Jimmy

It was 3pm and we were bored. The season was around the corner, and this was going to be one of the last free afternoons we’d have until summer.

“Let’s go eat Japanese food,“ Jimmy said, “I want to get out, and I know a place!” Amidst our weak objections we rallied and headed to a nearby sushi restaurant on that fateful January afternoon.

An older Asian gentleman greeted us, smiled, and escorted us to a booth next to a window that looked out on the street. We immediately ordered a couple of pitchers of beer and Jimmy pushed the menus towards us saying, “Order whatever you want  boys, I got it.”

Jimmy always had money, although he didn’t have a job. I heard his uncle in San Diego regularly sent him cash to take care of his rent and his other college expenses.

Sadly, Rob and I lived on a shoestring budget. We worked when we didn’t have classes at the University and barely had anything left over after paying rent, gas and buying our weekend cold packs.

The beers kept coming and the food was tasty. We lost track of time. Rob and Jimmy ordered a couple of sake shots and I could see they were getting trashed. I figured it was time for me to start slowing down since I only had $10 in my pocket and someone would have to drive us home.

The afternoon sunlight that came in through the windows gave way to long shadows, and the first hint of the early dinner crowd drifted in. As a small group of people were seated near us, Jimmy looked around, then leaned in and whispered with his evil grin, “Ready? Let’s dash.”

Dash mode? I was not expecting this, not today. Immediately I stood up, grabbed the keys off the table, and loudly asked “where is that jacket? In the backseat?” I headed for the door and nodded as I passed the waiter. You never want to be the last guy in the restaurant.

I was down the street when I heard a loud voice yell “Hey! Get back here!” I turned to look back at the bar as Robbie and Jimmy came running out. Robbie spotted me, pointed and ran in my direction. As we had previously used this successful escape tactic, Jimmy ran the other way. They never catch you when you split up.

I took one last look back and saw the waiter on the sidewalk in front of the his place. He looked in our direction, then turned and chased Jimmy towards the alley. I jumped in the van, fired up the engine and put it in gear as Robbie ran up, laughing hysterically, and flopped into the front seat.

I pulled out onto Coast Highway and we motored towards the park where we figured Jimmy would run to. “There he is!!” Robbie yelled, pointing past the cross street and we busted out laughing as we saw Jimmy run down 20th St., followed by the waiter who was cursing him out.

“Go down to 22nd” Robbie told me, “he’s headed to 22nd!”

The next few minutes were into slow motion as we turned onto 22nd St. We saw Jimmy come off the boardwalk, with the waiter closing in. He hopped up on the wall to avoid a large crowd of people near the street corner, and from the wall jumped down and over a parked car onto the street below.

He landed awkwardly and we heard someone call out. “Hey man, are you ok?!?” We could also hear the waiter yelling, “I better not ever see you again!!”

Jimmy got up slowly, clutching his right ankle, and as he looked up, he saw our van. He hobbled over as Robbie opened the sliding door, but Jimmy paused and started to turn back. “Wait! I lost my slippah!” Robbie looked at him in disbelief, then ran back near the wall to get it for him.

As we drove back to the house, Robbie asked Jimmy about his ankle, and he said it was all good as he gasped for breath. When we got to the house, Jimmy hobbled up the stairs, stumbled in and dropped on the couch.

It must’ve been about ten minutes before I bounced back into the living room to check on him. I asked him if I could see the ankle and hiked his jeans up, and revealed a gnarly, black and blue mess.

“Holy shit,” I said “you gotta go to the hospital.” Jimmy argued that it was fine, but I called my other roommate who came out and took a look. His face went pale when he saw the ankle. We propped Jimmy up and helped him back to my van.

Jimmy’s ankle was broken in two places and he had damage to his ligaments. Six hours later we returned home with Jimmy in a large cast and crutches.

“My dad’s gonna kill me,” he mumbled, and I could see the tears in his eyes as he gingerly slumped down on the couch. I offered to call his parents, but Jimmy said he’d call them in the morning.

Instead, he reached for the phone and dialed another number. It was late, and I wondered who he was calling. From the kitchen I heard him say “Coach, it’s me Jimmy…I just wrecked my ankle.”

Jimmy lost his baseball scholarship that afternoon, something he talked about, and worked so hard for, since he was seven years old. He was one of the most promising high school players to come out of Hawaii. I could only watch in silence as he burst into tears, realizing he had just thrown away his dream.