#teamwor

As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a baller. 

It's a spring Saturday morning. A couple of morning joggers check their apple watches for whatever it is people check when jogging, a group of sportswear clad 40 to 50 somethings are mimicking the moves of a woman stretching, people walking dogs, people drinking coffees and analysing the week gone by. The basketball courts at Finsbury Park are full. Friends and strangers from all walks of life gather. Some heated exchanges and some juvenile messing around and a few doing some serious basket balling.  A lifeless body lays facedown to the side of one of the courts. The group from the court closest all stare over at the body. A couple of them run over to check. Some looked concerned overs look just normal and eager to get on with their game. 

So, there lies a body.  A body of a young (not young) man. The body of a man that once had dreams. Dreams of actually going out and playing basketball with other people that enjoyed playing basketball. He set out to achieve this dream no matter the cost.  Well, he had achieved that dream, but turns out the price was a little higher than what he saved for.  Lets go back about 6 months and  find out where it all started and how we got here. 

I'd been eager to start playing basketball again. A few things were holding me back. 1) Team sports scare me 2) Since I'd stopped drinking as much I'd become increasingly bad at talking to strangers/making new friends/keeping current friends/all social situations 3) My fitness and being self conscious about my body/size etc. I always saw myself as the little, skinny whipper snapper and because I seldom look in the mirror I could convince myself that was the case, but on the court when you're playing with a load of new people that don't know each other and don't know names, then the way to talk to or about the person is to use physical cues.  'Pass it big man' 'Defend the big man' 'Hi big man'  'Defend the guy with the bad hairline'  'Don't let the out of shape guy get away from you'  'don't defend the guy with the children's socks on, he can't shoot anyway so don't waste your energy as he is going to miss whether you defend him or not'  And that sort of thing  I started doing the same, but I said nice things instead.  'pass it to me big blue eyes'  'Mark the guy with the nice T shirt'  'Make sure you defend that guy, he's doing really well and great at shooting, not only is he really good he seems like a really nice person'  And that sort of thing 

Team sports from an early age filled me with fear. On Saturday mornings before the weekly football match for my village I'd be praying the other team didn't turn up or the pitch was water logged, so I could stay at home and watch Live and Kicking and hang with Mum.  I use to love being on the bench. Which worked out well because that was often the position the manager said I'd really excelled in.  I must have made it easy for the manager, because when you are coaching kids you need to make sure they all get some game time and each get a chance starting the game to make it fair and keep the cold, tired, over competitive parents happy and interested. But as I was happy to volunteer to start as a substitute and the manager was happy to not have me playing, it was win win.  So most Saturday mornings, I'd sit on the grass cross legged and daydream  of being in the studio, shooting the shit with with Jamie Theaksten and Zoe Ball. 

I gave up team sports when I got to secondary school. Things were getting a little too serious and a little too aggressive for my timid ways. I was however drawn to the world of WWF wrestling, I think I was drawn more to the soap of it all rather than the fighting. I know, I know it's not real fighting you tell me and I think in secondary school I was aware of that, but one of my earliest memories was going to watch Summerslam 1992 with my Dad at The NEC or Wembley and I was a little less clued up. I was only 5 years old and I remember being so nervous that the wrestler I wasn't cheering for would hear me and come and 'get me' or 'kill me' So, I would chant 'I don't mind' to every match. That way I could stay neutral and by not taking sides if they did hear me (We were sat so far back there were binoculars kicking round) then they couldn't 'Sharp shooter me to death' because I was clearly saying, I don't mind who wins. So when everyone was chanting for 'Bret Hart, Bret Hart, Bret Hart, I would chant 'I don't mind, I don't mind' and say it so quickly that the syllables squashed together to match what others were saying.  This is probably my earliest memory as a human being and it really does explain a lot about my character and personality and existence.  But anyway, I loved wrestling for a bit, then lost interest like most things, but for some reason Basketball has always been a big love of mine, but I'd never really played it with other people, because I was never friends with anyone that liked it

So back to 6 months before the body was found at Finsbury Park basketball courts. 

I have joined a 'recreational' basketball league and I am on my way to the first game. Before I'd paid my £60 I emailed in advance to explain that I hadn't played in 10 years and only want to join if everyone was a beginner/very bad. I was assured this WAS the case. I realised within 2 minutes of being there. This wasn't the case. Everyone was pretty good and strong and competitive. The main problem I have with team sports is that I don't like to let strangers down.   I'd grown accustomed to letting my close friends and family down, but to let a stranger down seemed unthinkable. I knew the physical aspect was going to be a challenge, but I hadn't prepared for the mental challenge. Instantly I volunteered to start on the bench as per usual.  The mental challenge was then also thrown a little curveball as I turn up and Andrew Garfield is in our squad. I am going to be referring to him as 'Garf' as that is what he introduced himself as and what we called him. If you are gonna talk about him though I'd stick to 'Andrew Garfield' as it was kinda an exclusive friend sorta thing so just to save confusion I'm calling him 'Garf' but when I say 'Garf' you should still think 'Andrew Garfield' as I don't want you to think you can also refer to him as 'Garf.' Thanks for understanding.  Garf  was there with an American friend who I think was also an actor, as I Kinda recognised him. He was very serious and what he lacked in sense of humour he made up for in very lovely muscly arms to skinny body ratio.  Garf however was very lovely.  It was wild witnessing how the social dynamic and how people act when you are on a basketball team with a Hollywood actor. It was quite the social experiment.  People's bodies all face towards him when we are sitting down, people complement him more than they complement others, we were all the Gareths to Garf's 'David Brent'  We hit it off straight away. We were absolutely having what I've been told can only be described as 'Superb banter' Being an amateur rock and roll star myself and after meeting at least 3 celebrities before I was pretty much on the same wave as Garf. Unlike the rest of these losers.  We were getting on very well, laughing and chatting about being a creative (I brought my guitar in once, when I didn't have band practice, just so he'd ask me about it)  The thing was, I couldn't give a shiny shit who he was and I don't much care for famous people for just being famous (the exception to the rule being the night I met Michael Stipe In a bar in Berlin, but that's a story for another day) But I was of course aware that he would have influence and people love the guy so if I could become best friends with him and get him to like me and my music then it could really be game changer. He could save my music career and if I just so happen to become best friends with a Hollywood actor in the process then that was a risk I was willing to take.  So when others in the group were creaming themselves over the guy and sucking at his teets every chance they could get (one guy said it was an honour to have him on our team and another guy drunkenly left a voice note on the group WhatsApp one night saying how much they loved Hacksaw Ridge and how much they loved Garf), I played the cool game. 

This worked for a bit. 

But then things took a turn. 

We actually started to play basketball. 

And in real time I could see everyone including Garf lose all respect and interest in me as a person because my basketball skills, knowledge and ability was probably the worst they had ever seen.  I'd turn up to the games and to practices and each week I could see it was a pain and effort for any of them to speak to me. These were proper sporty boys. I was the weak link. I was like a little Antelope Tryna be friends with the lions.  I noticed Garf was speaking to the other boys a lot more. He became very good friends with the guy that drunk dialled his admiration in front of everyone. THAT GUY. that guy works in IT and quotes the Hangover and went to see Drake live (I mean, I like Drakes' music but you wouldn't pay to go see him sing live would ya? If he was at a festival you'd have a dance, sure, but just a Drake concert? C'mon)  That guy and Garf became closer and closer and I was becoming a ghost. The thing that THAT GUY had, that I didn't? He was our best player. People love someone that is good at sports. It's obvious and it's in the American teen films, but it was strange witnessing it as a 30 year old.  Me being so, so bad at basketball had an actual affect on how these boys saw me as a person. They thought less of me, they don't like talking to me, jokes weren't landing that were landing before. The American guy I mentioned before, literally couldn't look me in the eye. I was down trodden and we were only 2 weeks into the 8 week season. 

I needed to change things. 

(Montage Music upbeat, playing)

Cut shots of me playing basketball and getting ever so slightly better. 

So the Saturday before our final game, I was a completely new person. I understood the rules and tactics a lot better, I was making screens and playing the pick and roll and making shots often. We had our biggest game coming up. We were 2nd from bottom in our league and we were playing the bottom side. We needed to win to not finish bottom. So we'd decided to head to Finsbury Park the Saturday  morning before the game. 

We start playing and I am on fire, I am on Garf's team and we are linking up for some great moves. We high five and we lock eyes. I think at some point he says something like 'nice one Thom' It was all a bit of a blur.  Maybe this was it. Maybe we WERE best friends after all.  After one shot went in Garf slaps my bum and I laugh and I go to slap his bum in return and in my excitement I stretch my upper body rapidly and my back seems to try to bend in 2 different directions. My laughter turns to an agonising scream! I can't hide the pain. I fall to the concrete.  Face down.  I can't move.  Garf and the best player come over to check on me.  'Are you okay?'  'My back' I say with some effort and my voice breaks like a teenager going hitting puberty hard.  'I'm fine' I stress  I don't want that guy to help me. I don't want to seem weak. I've worked too hard to fail now. 

I was breathing heavy and the boys were keen to start playing again. I tried to get up and 2 guys helped me. They prop me up, one either side and guide me to the side of the court. I ask them to stop for a second and turn me round. They do, but are a little confused.  I let out a little chuckle  'Hey Garf.'  He doesn't hear me cause he's started playing ball again.  I clear my throat.  'Hey Garf' I say a bit louder  He still doesn't hear me.  They 2 guys impatiently shout for Garf too.  'Hey Garf' they shout  Garf turns to us I give the 2 guys evils, as I could have got his attention myself and I didn't need their help.  Garf is looking at us.  'Hey Garf' I say again 'See you at the....'  I screech in pain because the guys had turned me round and started walking me off the court again. 

So I sat there for a bit and watched them practice. I didn't play the rest of the day and I couldn't play the final game either. They won the game though and went out for a celebratory drink afterwards. Which is so cool, I'm so happy for them. 

I didn't see Garf again, but I did message him one day with a link to Auld's debut album 'Mainstream Music' 

Now like at the end of The Social Network film where Mark is checking and refreshing the page to see if his ex girlfriend has accepted his friendship request, I check my phone and swiping up to refresh over and over again. Just waiting for those ticks to turn blue. Maybe he doesn’t have blue ticks on? I’ve heard it’s good for your mental health not to have the blue ticks, but the irony is it's awful for my mental health if ya got them off. So I'll never know if Garf listened to it or if he liked it or hated it or indifferent. I can only assume that he listened to it and loved it.