greybeta | "Da Noise" story, retold

[Author’s note: Italics are used to mimic a black guy talking. That’s not a racist comment. It’s more of a narrative technique.]

So, at the end of my freshmen year, I was sitting around with a bunch of people doing a ministry project. In the downtime, we started talking. Then this one black dude in particular started talking. He was talking about how good his ballin’ skills were.

Now, me being who I am, I jokingly said something to the effect of “I could totally beat you.”

Now see, this dude was calling me out. Calling ME out. I can’t let that happen!

Indeed, I had called out that dude. Not that I could actually back it up, of course. He took one look at me and decided he had to put this skinny Asian guy in his place.

I can beat you with one hand. One hand!

(He gestures with his right hand)

Wait a minute, that’s impossible. I may be terrible at basketball, but this short black dude can’t possibly beat me with one hand. I mean, if he did I could never live it down. So we agreed to play one-on-one at the gym.

In these kinds of things, winning is not enough. No, there must be some sort of wager to preserve the integrity of the challenge. Money is kind of cold, so it’s usually something humiliating.

Like a nickname. We agreed that the loser would have to take on the nickname “Noise”, referring to the inability to back up your talk.

And you know what? He’s actually pretty good at basketball and I’m terrible. The game wound down to the point where a three would win it for either of us.

Now I should have won the game. I had a beautiful one-handed three clank off the back of the rim. I went out to get the rebound but it was just beyond my hand.

So I picked the ball up and took it to the top of the key. Then I faked inside and let loose a horrible looking, off-balance three.

And it went in off the backboard! LUCKY SHOT!

And he didn’t fake me inside. I had a smile on my face when he let go off that three because I knew he couldn’t make it.

But I did make it. So for about a week this guy kept refusing to take on his nickname. So we were standing around the ministry center one day when I had had enough of it.

Man, this was so wrong.

You know, I played your game, why don’t you play mine. I’ll take you on with one hand in foosball and you can play with both hands.

(I gesture with my right hand.)

I had never played foosball before, but I know he couldn’t beat me with just one hand.

And so we played, first to seven. The score ended being 7-1, with me scoring all the goals. I even scored on myself.

He set me up! After the game he was like, “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, I own a foosball table at home, in my room.” IN HIS ROOM! I couldn’t say anything after that.

And so, for the first time ever, “Da Noise” was silenced.