Judge Not

Judge Not

“The best way to destroy an enemy is to make him a friend.”

-Abraham Lincoln

Grade school football may lack the glamour and excitement of Friday night lights, but there is no lack of effort on the field during the Saturday afternoon games. Every game has meaning to the players, but the upcoming contest was special as the Lincoln Lions had lost to their arch-rival, the Jefferson Pirates, 3 years in a row.

“Do you think we have a chance against Jefferson, Matt?”

“Of course we do, Will. We play our game, cut out the mistakes, and we can do it.”

“I don’t know how we stop Rocky.”

Rocky, a single-name identifier, in the mode of Elvis, Madonna, and Zorro. Matt’s jaw tightened, and his fingers twitched at the sound of the name.

“I’d love to beat those guys, Matt, especially after what Rocky did to you… I mean to us… last year. I know you feel responsible for the loss, but anyone would have gotten tripped up by the move he put on you and then ran 80 yards for a touchdown.”

Matt clenched his teeth and formed a fist. Will thought he noticed a wave of red flow across his face. It wasn’t just the humiliation suffered in last year’s contest; it had been brewing for years.

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5th Grade Basketball:

In the waning moments of a tied game, Rocky stole the ball from Matt and drove the length of the court to score the winning basket. In the handshake line after the game, Rocky made an L on his forehead with his thumb and index finger when he got to Matt. The universal “Loser” symbol infuriated Matt.

“Did you see what he did, Mom? He’s such a jerk.”

“We don’t call people names, Matt. Don’t stoop to his level.”

“Even if he is a jerk?”

“Matthew…”

6th Grade basketball:

In the waning moments of a tied game, Matt faked to his left, executed a perfect crossover dribble, and drove the lane to the basket. As he went up for his game-winning shot, Rocky appeared out of nowhere and slammed the ball back into Matt’s face. Matt fell to the floor with blood pouring out of his nose. To add to his embarrassment, Matt’s mom rushed out onto the floor to tend to her son. Another dose of humiliation awaited him in the handshake line.

“How’d that Voit burger taste, loser? Did your mommy kiss your boo-boo and make it all better?”

“I hate that guy, Dad.”

“Matthew, Jesus said love thy neighbor.”

“Jesus didn’t have Rocky living in his neighborhood.”

7th Grade baseball:

Possessed of a nice straight ball, Matt was Lincoln’s #1 pitcher. As the best athlete in town, Rocky naturally took the mound for the Pirates. Rocky smacked 3 home runs while Matt went down swinging 3 times. Matt tried to avoid the handshake line, but Coach Larson saw him hiding behind the water cooler and made him join the rest of the team in the traditional display of good sportsmanship. Matt dreaded the moment.

“Good game, slugger. Ha, ha, ha…”

“Mom… I’m sorry, but the guy is such an ass…”

‘Matthew!!”

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Matt suffered unbearable disappointment, frustration, and humiliation at the hands of Rocky for 3 years. Child psychologists will differ on whether a 12-year-old is capable of harboring feelings of true hatred for another human being, but one sit-down with Matt would convince all of them that children of that age are capable of such emotions. Matt, of course, wanted his team to win this final game against Jefferson, but more than anything, he wanted to best Rocky at something… anything. He desperately wished for the opportunity to say something clever and nasty to him in the handshake line after the game.

The game stayed close into the 4th quarter. The turning point, once again, was a Matt-Rocky moment. Matt took the handoff and bolted through the middle of the line and saw nothing but daylight ahead of him. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see Rocky approaching from behind. Rocky slammed the ball out of Matt’s arms, caught it in mid-air on a bounce, turned and sprinted 50 yards for a touchdown to seal another Jefferson victory.

In the post-game handshake line, Matt closed his eyes, but he couldn’t close his ears.

“Hey, Fumbles, maybe you’ll do better in Powder Puff football when you get to high school.”

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The carefree days of summer for 13-year-old boys- fishing, biking, swimming, hanging out at the park, and of course, thinking about, talking about, and dreaming of girls.

“Matt, are you going to ask her out or not?”

“I don’t know, Will. What if she says no?”

“No”, the scariest word in the English language when it comes to young men making their first forays into the perilous world of romance. Fear of rejection trumped any moments of trepidation Matt ever experienced on the football field, standing at the free throw line, digging his cleats into the batter’s box, or sitting down for a math test he was woefully unprepared for.

Marcie stole Matt’s heart in the 5th grade. Unlike the consideration and analysis of a child’s ability to hate, there is broad concurrence in the field of child psychology, as well as in the opinion of all parents, that a 13-year-old boy cannot know, feel, or understand the meaning of true love. Again, Matt would disagree.

“Matt, you’re not going to know unless you ask her.”

Matt rehearsed. He wrote notes. With phone in hand, he employed the time-honored athlete’s tactic of visualization:

“Hey, Marcie, this is Matt. I sat behind you in Miss Helstern’s science class.”

“Of course, I know who you are, Matt. How nice of you to call.”

“Well, I was just wondering, there’s a new movie coming to the Paradise Theater this weekend… and, well, I was just wondering if you’d like to go to the movie with me.”

“I would love to go! And maybe we could go to Alfredo’s for pizza after the movie. My treat.”

“That would be great, Marcie.”

Matt fell asleep, smiling through the night. He would call Marcie tomorrow.

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“I got her number for you, Matt. My cousin knows her older sister.”

“Thanks, Will. You’re my man.”

“So, you’re for sure you’re going to call her tonight?”

“Yep.”

“You’re not going to chicken out?”

“Nope. I think she’s the one, Will.”

Will understood the flaw in Matt’s thinking.

“Matt, we’re 13 for Christ’s sake. We’re not old enough to find the one.”

“Oh yeah, what about Romeo and Juliet? She was 13.”

“That didn’t end well, Matt.”

Matt tilted his head back and felt the warmth of the sun on his face. He closed his eyes and dreamed of his date with Marcie. Will was focused on his red-and-white bobber as it floated downstream with the current until he noticed a couple walking hand in hand on the other side of the river.

“Uh, Matt…”

“What?”

“I think Juliet just took off with a despicable knave.”

“What are you talking about?”

It pained Will to do it, but he flicked his index finger in the direction of the couple across the river.

“No, it… it can’t be. It’s not possible.”

“I’m sorry, Matt. It is. It’s Rocky and Marcie.”

Matt was crushed, but he found some solace knowing there wouldn’t be a handshake line.

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Revenge ruled Matt’s mind for the rest of the summer.

“Dad, what are some of the worst things a person could do to another person without going to jail?”

“What?”

Matt entertained a number of diabolical schemes, but in the end, he couldn’t come up with a plot sufficient to quench his thirst for retribution.

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Most roads from Jefferson and Lincoln led to Central High School. It didn’t take long. As Matt boarded the bus, he noticed them sitting together in a seat just a few rows from the front. He tried hard to keep his eyes trained down the aisle, but he couldn’t resist a quick look as he passed by.

“Hi, Matt.”

“Hello, Marcie.”

Rocky took note.

“You know this loser?”

“Yes.”

Matt fumed as he made his way to the back of the bus. As he plunked himself down on the back bench, it occurred to him that he could have another 180 days of these painful moments ahead of him. Round trips would put it at 360 such meetings. His excitement about his first day of high school floated off into the thin air along with the old school bus’s dark cloud of exhaust.

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“Just ignore him, Matt.”

“After what he did to me, Mom?! He ruined football, basketball, and baseball for me… and then he stole my girl.”

“Your girl? What girl?”

“Well… almost my girl. But I can’t stand seeing him in the hallways at school. And he’s in 2 of my classes! The bus ride is the worst.”

“Is he bothering you at school?”

“No, not really.”

“Then just ignore him.”

“Ignore him? He scarred me for life.”

“Only because you let him, Matt. Forgiveness will set you free.”

“You can’t be serious. Forgive Rocky? He is so obnoxious. He’s got to be the biggest jerk in the world.”

“He was rude for a moment. You’re the one keeping it alive.”

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Fall came and went without further insults from his nemesis, largely because Matt didn’t try out for the football team. Cautionary words of advice from his father about the potential for injury, coupled with a careful examination of his image in the hallway full-length mirror while clad only in his boxers, convinced Matt that football was not his future. But the agonizing memories persisted.

He replayed the miscues on the football field, the strikeouts, and the bloody nose, over and over again. He relived the handshake lines in his dreams.

The first dusting of snow brought new worries. The basketball season was approaching. Matt was a pretty good basketball player, and he was confident he’d make the team. It was a certainty that Rocky would be on the team. Matt and his Dr. Evil…or his own personal Biff, would be back in his future… as teammates! This would be a challenge.

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“How’s basketball going, Matt?”

“Great, Mom. I think I’m doing good. The coach might even move me up to JV.”

“That’s awesome.”

“And the best part… Rocky sprained his thumb the first night. He’ll be out for a while.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“You mean because it will hurt the team?”

“No, it’s disappointing that you’re happy someone got hurt.”

Basketball did go well for Matt. When he wasn’t pining away over his lost love the past summer or hanging out with Will, he was shooting hoops in his driveway. He was moved up to JV, and he was one of the first subs off the bench. Not having Rocky around was the cherry on top.

But all good things must come to an end. Halfway through the season, Rocky returned.

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“I hear Rocky’s back, Matt. You guys getting to be good buddies?”

“Very funny, Will. He’s so obnoxious. He runs around out there like he’s the 2nd coming of Michael Jordan.”

“Does he remember you from… well, you know?”

“Oh yeah, that’s the worst part. Every time he steals the ball from me or scores on me, he’s got this big shit-eating grin on his face. One night he asked me if I could still taste the Voit burger he served up for me when we were in grade school.”

“Ooo, that’s nasty.”

“Really, I hate the guy. I don’t know how anybody could be such a jerk. I’ll be his dad must be a real jerk too.”

“Rocky doesn’t have a dad.”

“What do you mean?”

“My cousin told me. His dad cut out on them when he was five.”

Matt had no response.

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“Dad, Will’s family is going to the beach today, and Will says I can come along.”

Sometimes an expression is all that is needed, but Matt’s dad added the words just to be sure.

“Matt, God didn’t say keep holy the sabbath unless Will wants you to go to the beach. Get in the car.”

Marcie and her family didn’t usually attend the 10:00 AM Sunday mass, but today she was there. This would make the event even more painful for Matt. He would glance at Marcie, just to beat himself up a little bit, and then study the colorful stained-glass windows or the vast ceiling above, and then take a look back at his lost dream. He was about to doze off when Father Martin approached the lectern.

“Matthew, pay attention.”

Sometimes a son understands the difference between a mother’s suggestion and an order.

“Yes, Mother.”

Matt felt like he was being tag-teamed. Father Martin was talking about forgiveness!

“… and as we learned from Luke, Jesus said, “Judge not, and ye shall not be judged; condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned; forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.”

The church seemed to grow quiet. Father Martin continued to speak, but his words weren’t reaching Matt. He was no longer pondering the figures in the windows. His head didn’t tilt upward toward the ceiling. He forgot Marcie was there. Every so often, Matt was listening, and every so often, the spirit shows up.

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After Tommy Williams sprained his ankle and Skip Jones blew out his knee, Matt was inserted into the starting lineup as the point guard, but as soon as Rocky returned, Matt took a seat on the bench. Matt got decent playing time, but it wasn’t the same. He missed hearing his name announced during pregame introductions and the excitement of being at center circle for tip-off. He had tried so hard to follow his mother’s advice and the words of Father Martin, but getting replaced by Rocky restoked the fires of resentment.

Rocky was terrific in his debut, rebounding, stealing the ball, hitting 3-pointers, and running the show from the point. Matt fumed as jealousy joined forces with all those ill feelings that had built up over all those years. He wanted Rocky to fail, even if it meant his team would lose.

He didn’t want Rocky to score another basket and add more points to his already impressive stats sheet. He wanted him to throw a bad pass. He wanted him to travel with the ball… maybe foul out of the game… or better yet, maybe break his other thumb. Coach Sanders's voice got Matt’s attention.

“Matt! You’re in for Charlie.”

This was the first time Matt and Rocky were on the court at the same time in a game. It seemed surreal. His mortal enemy was now his teammate. Nothing about it felt right. Wanting to do well while hoping his teammate failed presented a challenging dilemma.

Matt had the ball at the top of the key, and Rocky was open at the baseline. Matt froze. He clutched the basketball like he had never seen one before. The scene repeated itself. Coach Sanders didn’t notice, but Matt’s mother did. She was disappointed.

“Oh, my God. He won’t pass the ball to Rocky.”

In the final minute of the game, with Central safely ahead, Matt tipped an opponent’s pass in the air, tapped it forward, grabbed the ball, and dribbled down the court. It would be an easy score and his only points of the game.

Out of the corner of his eye, Matt saw Rocky off to his side trailing the play. Matt's body continued to function as a basketball player, but his mind was everywhere but inside that gym.

The Creator designed the human brain for just such moments. Brain signals can travel at speeds over 250 mph, and Matt was putting the pedal to the metal. Within seconds, he thought of everything- Rocky flashing the Loser symbol, his bloody nose, his mother and forgiveness, the “Fumbles” comment, Father Martin, Rocky and Marcie on the school bus, judge not, Rocky’s homers, celebrating a broken thumb, his dad, no dad, his dad, no dad. It all added up to only one conclusion. Matt flipped the ball to Rocky and stood aside.

Rocky looked stunned. Now it was his turn to crank up those brain cells- calling Matt a loser on the bus, the Voit burger, Matt striking out 3 times in one game and the “Slugger” comment, finding humor in Matt’s bloody nose, Matt flipping the ball to him so he could make the layup. It all added up to only one conclusion. Rocky flipped the ball back to Matt.

“No, you stole the ball, you take the shot.”

“No, Rocky, I’d feel better if you did.”

Matt flipped the ball back to Rocky, who immediately flipped it back to Matt.

“Why did you give me the ball, Matt?”

“Why did you give it back, Rocky?”

They stared at each other. Without another word being spoken, they understood, and both boys smiled.

The buzzer sounded. Coach Sanders scratched his head, and the two boys walked off the court together, laughing as Matt’s mom wiped away a tear.