Benny Jay: Tyrus Thomas Comes Back

I’m in a restaurant with my family — parents, wife, sister, kids — talking about this and that….

I feel a buzz in my pocket….

It’s the cell phone — some one’s sending me a text….

Discreetly, very discreetly, I reach into my pocket, withdraw the phone, flip it open and look down to see the message…..

“Tell Deng to stop shooting that damn jump shot”

It’s Norm and he’s speaking in a Bulls code that only we understand. He’s assuming that I’m watching the game — cause, what else would I be doing? — and he’s assuming that I’m upset cause Luol Deng, the starting Bulls forward, is settling for jump shots instead of driving for the basket.

I assume this means the Bulls are losing. They’re always losing. Even when they’re winning. Like Monday. They had a thirty-five point lead in the third quarter and lost the game. I don’t want to talk about it. How can you blow a thirty-five point lead? I still don’t want to talk about it. It’s cause they didn’t have Tyrus Thomas. He got hurt — broke his arm. Has been out for six weeks. Or has it been seven? I love Tyrus Thomas. If they had Tyrus Thomas, they wouldn’t have blown that aforementioned thirty-five point lead I don’t want to talk about….

“Excuse me,” I say.

I get out of my seat and walk across the restaurant to the bathroom. It’s a pretty clean bathroom. One urinal. One stall. I look around. No one there. Just to be sure, I bend down and peer under the stall. No feet. Good. I take out my phone. I punch in Norm’s number. I write: “whos winning wats score im at a restaurant”

Oops. The door opens. Someone comes in. I hastily turn and face the urinal, like I’m taking a leak.

“Hey,” says a voice.

“Hey,” I say back.

He goes into the stall.  He starts taking a leak.  Geez — he sounds like a freaking race horse.

The phone buzzes. It’s a return message from Norm: “Bulls up 14 3:00 left n 3rd”

I look around. The guy’s still peeing. I type back: “good keep me posted”

I keep up the role play — splashing water on my hands — as if Secretariat over in the stall gives a damn about me.

I go back to the table. I take my seat. There’s a bunch of conversations happening at once. I’m thinking — it’s probably the fourth quarter. They probably blew the lead. Just like on Monday. God, how the hell did they blow a thirty-five point lead? I don’t want to even think about that game….

Bzzz.

The phone.  It’s Norm. Got to be. Who else? He’s sending an update. The game’s over. Must be. If I look at this message, I will know if the Bulls won or lost. The answer’s in this phone. Good God, the suspense is killing me….

Discretely, I take the phone out of my pocket, flip it open and look down:

“bulls win by 11 tyrus hits 20″

“Yes,” I softly exclaim.  “Yes….”

Outside the restaurant, I tell my sister: “Bulls won….”

“So,” she says.

“So, they’re coming back….”

“They suck….”

“No, they don’t….”

“Yes, they do….”

“No, they don’t….”

“Bulls suck, Bulls suck….”

Ah, yes, another fun-filled exchange with my sister. Sometimes I think we were put on earth to torture one another. Isn’t that what all siblings are for?

But it doesn’t really matter cause — guess what? Tyrus is back and the Bulls won…..