Memoir

The Beach House

It was an extremely hot summer afternoon, the sun glistening down on us. My two cousins, my brother, and I laughed cheerfully from the epic prank we had just planned; we were so antsy and couldn’t hold it in, hoping that it would work. We four filled up some decently sized buckets of water, as the sun started to fade, and the beautiful sunset started to rise. A solid thirty minutes to an hour flew by; the whole plan was just invigorating all of us. We were bouncing off of the walls when we had finally set up the sinister plan, laughing playfully, hoping not to ruin the poor man’s day.

My brother entered the beach house full of adults drinking wine, and quite frankly they were probably enjoying having all the kids outside. Out of the four of us kids, my brother is definitely the most eloquent speaker, so he needed to convince them of what was happening. Unaware of what was going on inside, Claire and Emilee (my two cousins) and I awaited the opening of the door, which would signal that my brother James had done his job. We stood a solid 30 feet above ground level, the destination of the prank. James would not come out. We sat. We waited patiently, maybe not. But they would not come out. It felt like a solid two hours, but it was probably a good two seconds that we really waited. The door opened, and the prank was on. There was my brother, speaking overly loudly for a sentence or two to ensure the fact that we knew he was there, and my granddad trailed him as we had planned. My brother kept explaining to granddad why the hose was not functioning properly. My granddad went right under the hose and started fiddling with it. He turned it on. It worked, of course. My brother made a dead sprint inside because he had done his job. My granddad looked at James; he was so befuddled. He stood there, surprised. Then we unleashed the beast that had been waiting patiently for hours, days. We dumped three buckets, full of water, right on his nice collared shirt and khaki pants. He was done. He stood there, and we cracked up, laughing immaturely at him because he fell for our prank.

“Got ya there!” my cousin screamed.

“This is not over,” he whispered, laughing silently at his awfully intelligent grandkids.

The Beach House at Emerald Isle, North Carolina. I’ve had so many memories there over the past ten years. My grandparents own an astonishing beach house there, and we visit multiple times every year. Just looking back, I remember the five hour car rides we take several times a year, from Richmond to Emerald Isle, from work to vacation, from the boring city of Richmond, to the beach. The incredible landmark known as “the bridge” awaits us every time we make the long trip, sitting in the same place that we left it in. Every year when we cross the gorgeous bridge, we receive one of the most beautiful views I’ve had in my whole life, bright blue water staring at us. But more importantly, the bridge is a location, a landmark that indicates that we are ten minutes from our destination. Every time we visit, once we cross that bridge, we wake up, blast music, scream loudly, joyfully, knowing that we are so close to arriving; and then we arrive. Most of the time, our cousins from Chapel Hill and our grandparents are outside, waiting impatiently for us to arrive, and every trip, we arrive awaiting the new joys that will conquer us this time.

Out of at least the twenty times that I have been to the beach, there are a few memories that stick out, from long, never-ending journeys to the beach and back.

Back a solid four or five years ago, around the time we played the sweet prank on granddad, the Nelson family was at the beach: my parents, my brother, my grandparents, my uncle, my aunt, and my two cousins. At the time, my brother was a lowly six years old, and he was scared to death of the waves, like a midget is scared of a giant. My two cousins and I were having such a great time, jumping over the moderately-sized waves, enjoying each other’s presence.

“We should get James out here,” my cousin said with a straight face. I laughed, thinking what it would be like for him to be out in the ocean.

“No, for real.”

“Okay, go get him.”

Both of my cousins actually ditched me for a slight moment, and they went to our parents and James, who were sitting, some sleeping in their chairs placed alongside the water. I saw them talk for a minute, and then my mom and my brother started towards the ocean. I was speechless; my little brother was coming into the ocean.

We five jumped around, enjoying having my brother in the ocean for really the first time. We slowly trotted out a little deeper, due to the wave height which had not been very intimidating that day. I remember so specifically, talking with my two cousins, and then hearing my brother scream like a baby girl. My mom picked him up and started running, but they couldn’t move quickly in the ocean. I looked up. I saw the wave. In fact, I decided to scream like a baby girl too. I swear this was the biggest wave I had ever seen, and looking back on it, I haven’t seen a wave that big since. It felt like it was 100 feet in the air, no chance of getting over it.

“Tsunami!!!!!!” one of them screeched, the last words I heard before ducking under, having no idea who said it. The wave crashed down on us with a force harder than anything I’ve ever felt. It was like a NFL lineman hitting you with all his might. The wave absolutely destroyed me; I flipped, I think, 1,000 times under the water, getting sand all in my hair and all over my body, while receiving many scrapes from shells sharp as knives underwater. I came up, with that awful scent of salt washed up all over me, like it was in my mouth. I forgot about the other four and made a mad dash to put a warm towel over my body. I wrapped myself in it, covered my eyes, and called it a day. Thankfully, the other four apparently had the same plan. My brother. I completely forgot about him; fortunately, he turned out to be alright. Now, that was pretty much the last time he would touch the ocean water that trip. Because of that, despite getting flipped and twisted and hit and bruised, that was one of the best times of my life. It was then that I realized that I might never see a wave like that again, especially with my family surrounding me. It was a gift.

After swimming in the ocean, after playing in the sand, after gracefully sitting nearby the beach, the outdoor shower always awaited us when we returned to the beach house. Possibly the greatest invention ever, I use that thing as much as I can every visit, taking full advantage of it when I have it in my possession. It’s usually used by my brother, two cousins, and me, but adults use it occasionally. Every single time we go down to the beach, no exaggeration, we fight over who deserves first shower. There are always arguments and fights broken out by the poor person who has earned the last shower, usually me. There’s something about the outdoor shower that’s different. It’s quiet and relaxing, and the sounds of nature echo each other repeatedly, like the intention is for me to hear it. Pranks. Swimming. Almost dying in the ocean. Nothing compares to the family being completely together at night, celebrating life and living it to the fullest, at our beach house.

The tradition is set forth so every Fourth of July we are all at the Beach House. One Fourth of July was just so special, a couple years ago. We had, or I should say the parents had, executed an amazing dinner. Vegetables, shrimp, and some nice potatoes were all located gently on the plate, squeezed into a corner. Then, my dad brought out a huge steak, which would be for all of us. We all put a huge piece of steak on our plate and went to the table. The parents sat inside, and the four kids chose to sit outside. We slowly sat down, laughing, making jokes about our supposedly stupid parents, the heavy wind blowing our clothes so hard we could not stop it. The first bite of that steak was absolutely tremendous. To this day, that was the best piece of meat, possibly best piece of anything I’ve ever had in my entire life. Knowing our young immaturity, we decided to chuck some of the broccoli onto the other beach house’s property. Who wanted to eat vegetables for dinner? Not us. That was just such a fun dinner. We brought out our iPods and blasted some music, singing more loudly than the music was actually playing, and it was at maximum volume. Unfortunately, we had finished dinner; it was so much fun.

However, the fun had just started. We were all inside, screaming loudly, I don’t even remember what we were doing. It was definitely fun though. Then, the first firework rocketed violently into the sky; a new chapter of the night was about to be written. My grandma made some sweet banana ice cream. My aunt and my two cousins made a cake for my uncle, who by the way was having a birthday. Cake and some ice cream while watching fireworks is not a bad deal. We were all pretty silent while we watched the fireworks explode in the night sky, more and more colors rapidly coming together, making loud, loud noise. Finally, when we decided to head back inside, the two young ones went downstairs to bed. The rest of us pretty much partied like a bunch of college kids. Who would’ve thought we woke up the young ones? Oops, of course we did. They came up, and we played some board games, intense board games. Winning that game of Sorry was a huge accomplishment in my life I must say. As midnight neared quickly, it was time for bed. One of the best nights of my life had ended. I just wish I could relive that moment right now; then, everything would be so perfect.

I still go down to the Beach House regularly every year, but whenever I’m home, I always wish I was there. Throughout the years, I’ve had so many everlasting memories at that exact location that are worth a lifetime. And for all the new memories that will occur, I will savor every last one of them.

***

The Dragons

“Five, Four, Three, Two, One,” the opposing team’s crowd chanted as the buzzer rang loudly throughout the gym. The Dragons just lost in the championship game and had lost to the same team that beat them the previous two times before. It was a tough night, but it was only in third grade. Yes, we were only in third grade. We, the Dragons, would be ready to bounce back next year.

It was time for the fourth grade year in Bon Air Basketball. The team was extremely excited, talking incessantly about the season opener at school. We felt that we had enough talent to take home the trophy this year, and that was the team’s goal, along with having fun, of course. My dad and Coach Tarry, the two coaches of the team, gave the pregame speech for the opener, and they talked about having fun and all that nonsense, which was important; however, we had a grander goal in mind. A championship.

The season started off extremely well, the team swishing the outside shots, hustling for loose balls, and just flat out manhandling teams. We were 3-0 at the time, and we hadn’t come across a team who could physically challenge us. Our fourth game would be different. The Dragons walked into the Crestwood Gym and witnessed a team that would be able to challenge their one weakness, lack of height. The team called themselves the Raiders, and despite being in fourth grade, this kid on their team stood at six feet tall. It would be a game for the ages.

Obviously, the six foot kid won the tip off to start the game, and he handed the ball gently to their second best player, their point guard. He moved extremely quickly, and he was not easy to handle. The Raiders jumped out to an early 10-4 lead; we were a little rusty. The games were five periods, and the first one wasn’t even over yet, so there was plenty of time, plenty. Will Michael and Cole Bassett, the two guards from the starting lineup that day hit a couple nice shots to cut the margin. The lead was trimmed to 14-9 at the end of the first period. My group arose from the bench and trotted out to center court, the crowd anticipating a comeback. My friend Paul Hamilton and I led a comeback. Loudly screaming at his worst players, their coach was furious; Paul and I could not be stopped. With 17 seconds left in the period, I crossed-over the man guarding me, drove quickly to the lane, and dished it to the corner. Paul was waiting, and he drained a shot, giving us a 22-20 lead after two periods; Paul and I gave each other a huge chess bump as we jogged to the water fountain, our mouths awaiting the cold water that we deserved. We jogged back with high anticipations for the game, but this was a solid team on a mission.

The Raiders were not done. Their big man absolutely killed us in the third. He destroyed the other group as I watched from the bench, his bank shots from close range silenced our crowd. The Raiders jumped out to an astonishing 34-24 halftime lead; we were stunned. The coaches calmed us down at halftime, but we had not yet been behind by a double digit margin in the season. Our response would show our true character and our focus.  The fourth period did not get us back as many points as we would have liked against their weak, under-skilled bench. At the end of the fourth, the score was 40-32, Raiders. It was time for the last period. The fifth period was a six minute period; both teams would be allowed to press, and most importantly, the two groups would merge to form the best five players on the court possible. Will, Paul, and I would be playing together along with Luke Parry and Jake Johnston.

Paul would be taking the big man from their team, and I decided to guard their point guard, who I hadn’t played with so far in the game today. I could take him though, just like our team could take the Raiders. The comeback was on; we were pressing like crazy, got a bunch of steals, and we cut the lead to 4. It was 48-44 when their point guard dribbled the ball swiftly up the court. He took one bounce with his right and kept going. I poked the ball out, eluding what would’ve been a bad foul call, and the ball went right into the hands of Will. He through it to Paul who sprinted under the basket; Paul caught the ball, took one right-handed dribble, and laid the ball into the hoop. 48-46. Then we forced another missed shot, and we ran down the court; I ran down the court, dribbled into the paint, and I floated a ball up. Swish. 48-48. Two minutes remained in the game. On the following possession, with their coach screaming at the top of his lungs, like a shrieking girl in a horror film, the point guard dropped it down to their big man. He dribbled right, spun, and laid the ball in; and there was a foul. He got a shooter’s roll on the free throw to add to the lead, 51-48 Raiders. Will and I passed the ball up court to each other until I gave it to him when he backdoor cut. He bounced passed it to Jake, and the score was now 51-50 with one minute to go, as Jake finger rolled the ball into the hoop. In the ensuing possession, Paul poked the ball out of the big man’s hands; I recovered it; and we had an opportunity to take the lead. I gave the ball back to Paul on the fastbreak, and Paul scored once again. It was our first lead of the game, 52-51 with about 30 seconds remaining. Timeout Raiders.

The Raiders dribbled up the court, and then they passed the ball to their worst player on the court, who we had completely forgotten about; he dribbled to the hoop and banked in a layup with 15 seconds to go. 53-52 Raiders. Luke rolled the ball into Will to prevent the clock from ticking. We needed every second we possessed. Will picked it up at half court and dribbled in for a layup. It rolled out. The ball was tipped out to me right at the free throw line. I shot it. It hit the rim, then the backboard, then the rim, then out. Paul jumped for the rebound, shot, and the ball rolled out. Then the ball was knocked out of bounds with one second remaining. They successfully inbounded the ball, and the game ended. We were silent. The Dragons had just lost a heartbreaker, 53-52. It was an extremely tough loss, but on the bright side, we had not seen the last of them.

The next practice for the Dragons was not a fun one, but we needed to get prepared for what the rest of the season had in store for us. When we stepped on the floor, we worked our tails off because we had a goal in mind: to get to the championship and beat the Raiders.

We ended up winning a couple games before we played the Rebels, one of the top teams, in fact. They were all taller than us, stronger than us, and that definitely showed. We started off strong, competing with the foe on the other side of the court; unfortunately, they smoked us in the second half. We fell to 5-2, but the coaches were not mad at the loss. We played scared, like a mouse going up against an elephant. We were weak; we didn’t play the game that we needed to play. We weren’t running fast breaks like we had all year. We lost by about 15 points.

The next game was a huge recovery game.We would be playing the Hornets, who were 4-3, one game behind us in the standings. The coaches seemed a little worried during the week that we would come out slowly after the tough loss last week. What a horrible prediction!

I started that game against the Hornets, knowing most of the players on their team. I had one of the best games of that season. I ended up with 14 points, but most importantly I passed the ball around and got a lot of people open. It was our turn to destroy somebody, a quality opponent even. At halftime, we led the game 29-10. The halftime speech was terrific; the coaches told us to keep pounding the ball and to not give in. Meanwhile, listening to the other team during warmups before the second half, they knew they’d lost, their heads hanging like their lives were over. The second half was much the same. Everybody on the team scored that game, and we won 56-29, just flat out demolished them. We would finish the season versus a weak opponent, and it definitely showed. Another large victory encouraged us to battle into the playoffs. We finished the regular season with a very strong record of 7-2. It was time for the playoffs. The top eight teams would be entered into the postseason, and we were the three seed. It was time to fulfill our goal. In order to be the best, you have to beat the best.

The quarterfinals always approached right after the season started, it seemed like. The time had appeared; our time to capture our title that was ours.

I don’t remember who the quarterfinal game was against, but in the fifth period, the Dragons led the game 39-21, and we did not slow down; we were not risking anything to lose a game in the postseason. We kept running fast breaks, shooting good shots, attacking the holes in the defense. With one minute left, all of our bench players rose up and checked in impatiently at the scorer’s table. They loudly screamed our names, and the best five walked to the bench, clapping along with the applause we received from the crowd. We finished the quarterfinal game with a much needed strong victory. Semifinals, here we come.

The whole week at school bored me to death; I couldn’t focus on my work like I usually could. All I could think about was the game, the thought amazed me, the thought made me wish Saturday would just arrive, the thought just drove me insane. On Friday, school might’ve taken a solid 100 hours, but it finally wrapped up. When the final bell rang, I sprung from my seat like a kangaroo, picked up my backpack, and I quickly flung it on my back as I began to sprint outside. Friday night came upon me as I relaxed, watching TV with my family. I went to bed Friday night with an interesting feeling; I couldn’t wait to play, but something I hadn’t felt the whole week: I was nervous; I had a ton of butterflies in my stomach, but that would go away. It would all go away when I stepped onto the court.

The game prior to ours had ended, and it was officially gametime. Throwing off our sweats, rustling out the basketballs for warmups, we slowly got prepared for the game. The Rebels awaited us on the other side of the court, the only other team that had beaten us other than the Raiders. Possibly the best player in the whole league played for the Rebels, another Matt. I was assigned for Matt, and it would not be easy.

My unit started on the floor, along with Matt’s unit from the other team. Matt and I locked each other down, neither of us could even fire up a shot. Paul and I really competed against Matt and one other kid on their team from their starting lineup. We all played very aggressively and played strong defense. The lesser players on the units stepped up big for both squads. The period ended with a tie score, 9-9. It was a pleasing first period, not the best, not the worst, but we definitely had the ability to outplay our opponent. The second period played out well, both teams shooting mediocrely, and the great defense kept the game very low scoring for two high powered offenses. The third ended up with a much equal result as the first two periods. We walked slowly to the bench after the third, with our heads up, but breathing ever too heavily, our dry throats needing some water. However, only trailing 24-20 at halftime, this game was not at all out of reach. A win that we deserved, worked for, fought for, was sitting right in front of us, waiting for us to capture it. The buzzer rang, signaling the end of the half; it was time for us to capture it.

Watching the other group compete with the Rebels in the fourth was very inspiring; I couldn’t wait to get in for the final stretch, my legs shaking, my teeth chattering. The fourth period horn went off with the scoreboard reading Rebels 25, Dragons 25.

“You all ready?” Coach Tarry asked with a smile on his face after he grabbed the best five for the fifth.

“Let’s go! Heck yes! Let’s beat em, baby!” cheers echoed the gym, the team screaming and jumping up and down. We were ready, and they were not.

We absolutely dominated the Rebels. The pre-fifth period huddle had invigorated all of us. We exited out of the huddle, and the vibe from the Dragons filled the entire gym. Our parents were screaming; theirs were not. We wanted it badly; they did not. Quickly jumping out to a 29-25 lead after two layups, we had stolen all of the momentum from the game. In the next possession, the Rebels swung the ball rapidly, making everyone on our defense move their feet as quickly as ever. The Rebels eventually gave the ball to Matt, who only had two points on me the whole day. (I had four on him! But who’s counting?) He dribbled quickly to his right, crossed over subtlely to his left, and as I had anticipated, he spun around as he stuck low to the floor of the gym. It was his favorite move, and it had just shot him in the foot. He made that move on me plenty of times before, and I jumped on that move like never before and stole the ball from him. I picked it up; I dribbled right; I put my head down; I crashed into the paint; I rolled the ball in; 31-25 Dragons. A couple more layups after beating the press enhanced our solid, but not comfortable lead. Now a 35-27 lead with one minute left, Will bounced the ball slowly and carefully up the court, letting the clock tick to zero, so the victory would be sealed. Will dribbled right at me, and I circled behind him. When I caught the ball, I crossed over to my right, and Matt fouled me, which resulted in his fifth foul. His head hung as he walked more slowly than a 90 year old grandma to the bench. Then he picked up his water bottle, chucked it against the window, and that pretty much summed up his night, as he began to sag against the wall, while our whole team tried to hold in our laughter. It was actually quite funny. More importantly, on the next possession Will, Paul, and I passed the ball around the outside, stalling, dilly dallying, waiting for the end of the game. Finally, the buzzer rang, and we the Dragons had just earned a position in the championship. After the game, we all rushed to the tournament schedule outside the Bon Air Elementary School Gym to find out who the runner-up would be in the championship. The board read, “#3 Dragons vs. #1 Raiders.”

The school week bullied me the whole week. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday finally arrived, and it depressed me so much. Every single class bored me to death. I sat there just wishing I could tell the teacher how much nobody cared. Those type of days happened the day before game day, but I finally got home and fell asleep Friday night, waiting for the day of my life.

The championship game would be played on Saturday at James River High School, like every Bon Air championship game. Scheduled on a snowy winter day, the game would be great to get some exercise in some warmth. From inside the gym we could all spot the huge snowflakes dropping on the road, hoping and praying school would get cancelled on Monday; nevertheless, we focused on a greater issue, the championship game had finally reached us. The time had come. The Raiders walked in, giant as can be, just like the last time, but intimidating nobody from the Dragons because we had the talent to beat them; we just needed to believe it. My group would be starting the championship game, and as my group walked out for the tip off, I noticed how many people were at the game. There were a good couple hundred, bigger than any crowd I had ever played in front of in my life. The ref through the ball in the air, Paul not surprisingly lost the tip off to the giant, and we were on our way.

The players on both teams moved swiftly down the court in a back and forth contest, both teams trading buckets throughout the first period. The whole first resulted in a showdown between the two big men, the giant and Paul. Slowly backed down by the giant numerous times, one would’ve thought that Paul would not have been able to rebound from early poor defense. However, Paul was absolutely unbelievable on offense, dropping 10 of the team’s first 14 points, and helping us lead the game 14-12. The realization was ever too present that we possessed the talent to win this game, eager to do so as well. The starters from the game definitely were feeling the mojo as we jogged to the bench, clapping loudly about the lead we had earned from the well-played first.

“We got this, bro.” Paul silently whispered in my ear, breathing heavily, while we walked into the James River hallway for water.

“Yeah man!” I responded quietly, also gasping for air.

The second and third periods ended up with a close to the same result as the first period, except the intensity was lifted dramatically. Diving across the floor, scurrying for loose balls, both teams wanted this win. As halftime approached, the team was more than content with our first half performance, as we slowly gained more energy despite the exhaustion from running up and down the court. A notion floated around in our minds that we could actually do this, leading 34-27. The second half approached us, so we ambled out to the floor for pre-second half warmups. When the second half dawned upon us, I sauntered back to the bench along with the rest of my teammates who would be resting for the entirety of the fourth period.

“Tick, tick tick, biiiiinnnngggg!” the clock loudly blasted, signaling the time for the ultimate period, the last of the season.

The lead conquered our minds; we cherished it; it was ours. The scoreboard read 48-43 Dragons, but the game was far, far from over. The ball was bounce passed in by the Raiders, their point guard hobbling up the court. He dribbled anxiously to the left wing, then dumped the ball down to the giant. Instead of recoiling in fear, Paul bodied him up and knocked the ball off of the giant’s left knee. The ball rolled out of bounds, and Paul beat on his chest, along with a nice cheer from the stands, the coaches snickering on the sidelines at Paul’s celebration. Several baskets later, the score was 56-54 Dragons with one minute left. The ball was inbounded to Will; he sprinted down the court, keeping the ball at his side, needing to keep the possession. Flashing open on the right wing, I called for the ball. Thankfully, Will made a skip pass in my direction. I caught the ball and struck straight to the hoop. I gently shot it right off the backboard; fortunately, I was hacked. The ref blew the whistle loudly, making sure everyone watching us could hear. The ball stayed on the rim forever, but it eventually rattled out. Two free throws needed to be made by me; I had to execute.

As my routine always was, I dribbled the ball twice at the line, gathered myself, and brought the ball up to shooting position. The crowd screamed as loudly as they could, trying to get me to miss my shot to allow the Raiders a chance to tie, the older kids watching our game urging a comeback, the echoes of the noise filled the gym. I released the ball effortlessly with no nerves. Swish. As much as I wanted to turn to the crowd and put my finger in front of my mouth to tell them to be quiet, I destroyed the urge inside of me. In fact, the noise motivated me. Another shot must go in. The exact same thing occurred during the next shot, the noise, the echo, the yelling, the swish. Dragons 58, Raiders 54. To this day, those free throws stay in my mind as two of the most clutch shots I have ever made. The inbounds pass was stolen by Jake, and he chucked the ball to me. Once again, I brought the ball into my chest, dribbled, and was fouled. Additionally, I made two foul shots. With two more free throws by Paul ensuing the next Raiders’ turnover, we led 62-54 with five seconds remaining. Our fans stood up, loudly chanting.

“Let’s Go Dragons! - clap clap clap clap clap” our fans repeated numerous times before the Raiders inbounded the ball. Then, the ball was inbounded…

“Five, Four, Three, Two, One,” our crowd chanted as the buzzer rang throughout the gym. Flashbacks from last years championship emerged in my brain, except this year our parents were the ones cheering when the game had ended. The Dragons were officially Bon Air Champions.