Love and Basketball Page #14

Sidra laughs. They watch the madness out on the dance floor.

SIDRA:

So what are these Spanish guys like?

MONICA:

I wouldn't know.

SIDRA:

What? You've been over here seven months

and you ain't tapped anything?

MONICA:

Just not my type, I guess.

SIDRA:

Shoot, Italian boys love them some black

women. They can't get enough of me.

Monica smiles.

MONICA:

You ever think about going back?

SIDRA:

Sometimes. But what's the alternative,

not playing? You remember big Toni?

(off Monica's nod)

She quit last year, now she's working at

some bookstore. I mean, look at us.

They treat us like we're Hollywood stars

over here. We just played in the

championship game. It doesn't get much

sweeter than this.

Monica takes this in. Her eyes do not reflect someone on top

of the world. She takes a long drink.

INT. SPAIN - MONICA'S APARTMENT - LATE NIGHT

A small, sparse, one-bedroom. Sam, Diane and the rest of the

gang from "Cheers" fill the small TV screen that flickers in

the darkness. Their dialogue is dubbed in Spanish.

Monica sits on the floor, braiding her hair.

SHE WEARS BOXERS AND QUINCY'S OLD PRACTICE SHIRT. AFTER FIVE

YEARS, IT IS WELL-WORN.

Feelings of loneliness threaten to swallow her whole. She

looks out her window and sees her billboard, looming in the

distance. She just stares.

INT. LOS ANGELES FORUM - NIGHT

The crowd erupts as a Laker player dunks the ball on a fast

break.

ANGLE ON:

Laker announcers CHICK HEARN and STU LANTZ.

CHICK HEARN:

Stu, this game is in the refrigerator.

The door is closed, the lights are out,

the butter's hard and the Jell-Oooooo's

jigglin'.

STU LANTZ:

And here come the subs.

ANGLE ON:

Quincy pulls off his sweats and jogs onto the court with the

rest of the subs. He is twenty-three, a man. His goatee and

tired eyes make him look older. HE NOW WEARS NUMBER TWENTY-

ONE.

STU LANTZ (cont'd) (V.O.)

It's good to see these guys get a little

playing time. And the fans love it.

Quincy immediately gets a pass in the corner. He puts up a

quick three and it banks hard off the rim.

ANGLE ON:

Chick and Stu.

CHICK HEARN:

Three-pointer is off for the kid from

SC. Came out after his freshman year,

now in his fifth year with the league.

STU LANTZ:

The son of Zeke McCall, played twelve

years with the Clippers.

CHICK HEARN:

(nods)

Pretty good player. The kid's moved

around quite a bit, but he's hoping to

finally have a home with the Lakers.

ANGLE ON:

Quincy steals the ball, has nothing but open court ahead of

him.

CHICK HEARN (cont'd) (V.O.)

Watch out, folks, it's showtime.

Quincy takes off from the hash-mark and throws down a monster

jam. He swings high off the rim. Too high. His hand slips

and he crashes to the floor. His knee twists at a sickening

angle.

The dwindling crowd gasps as Quincy clutches his left knee,

writhing in pain.

INT. DANIEL FREEMAN HOSPITAL - HALLWAY - LATE NIGHT

Zeke walks down the corridor, checking room numbers. He is

forty-five now. His slight paunch as become a roll.

He sees Nona exiting a room, with an empty water pitcher in

hand. Her hair is in locks.

ZEKE:

Nona.

Nona looks over. Her eyes narrow.

ZEKE (cont'd)

How's he doing?

NONA:

Not great.

ZEKE:

What's that, not great?

NONA:

The doctor'll be back in a minute.

ZEKE:

Nona, please.

NONA:

He tore his ACL.

Zeke's shoulders slump. Then he looks back at her.

ZEKE:

Almost didn't recognize you with your

hair like that. How you been?

NONA:

Happy. And he won't want to see you.

Nona walks over to a MAN standing nearby. He puts an arm

around her and they move down the hall. Zeke watches for a

beat, then pulls open Quincy's door, steps inside.

INT. QUINCY'S HOSPITAL ROOM - CONTINUOUS

Quincy lays in the bed. His knee is bandaged and propped up

by pillows. He stares out the window.

ZEKE:

Hey, son.

Quincy turns, sees his father. He turns back to the window.

ZEKE (cont'd)

Well, you made SportsCenter.

QUINCY:

What do you want?

ZEKE:

Came by to check on you.

QUINCY:

After five years.

ZEKE:

Don't remember that being my fault.

Seems like you divorced me same time as

your mom.

QUINCY:

Look, I'm busy.

ZEKE:

I can see that. I know things look

pretty bleak right now, but you can't get

down on yourself.

QUINCY:

I stopped taking your advice a long time

ago, or did you forget?

ZEKE:

No.

QUINCY:

Good.

ZEKE:

Quincy. I know you left school early to

throw your middle finger up at me.

QUINCY:

And now I'm paying for it, right? That

what this is about? "I told you so?"

ZEKE:

You want me to f*** off?

QUINCY:

Yeah.

ZEKE:

Fine, I'll f*** off, but not til I say

something.

Silence. Then.

ZEKE (cont'd)

You're a better ballplayer than I ever

was. But you got a lot of other things

going for you. You're smart. I always

felt...I always knew that you could do

anything you wanted. You want to be a

ballplayer, be a ballplayer. Just know

you ain't like everybody else on that

court. You ain't like I was. You got

options. That's all I ever tried to show

you.

QUINCY:

You're still trying to tell me what I

should and shouldn't do. How come you

couldn't be the man you kept trying to

make me?

Zeke stares at his son, wishing he could satisfy him with an

answer.

ZEKE:

I just couldn't

With nothing left to say, Zeke pulls open the door and

leaves. Quincy stares at the door long after it closes.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. QUINCY'S HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY

A NURSE enters, carrying a bouquet of flowers. She moves

past the empty bed, puts them on a table already overflowing

with flowers. She pulls open the blinds and light floods the

room. She crosses back out.

A toilet flush. Beat, then Quincy slowly hops out of the

bathroom, scratching his bare ass through the opening of his

gown.

VOICE (O.S.)

And I thought this was gonna be awkward.

Quincy whips around and is shocked to see Monica standing

there, laughing. She has clearly made an effort with her

appearance.

QUINCY:

Monica?

He stumbles. Monica quickly goes to him, catches his arm

before he falls.

MONICA:

I'm sorry.

Quincy stares at her, completely thrown. It's been five

years. An awkward beat.

MONICA (cont'd)

So, how you doing?

QUINCY:

Alright. I heard you were in Spain.

MONICA:

I was.

(smiling)

I see your peach fuzz finally grew in.

Quincy rubs his goatee self-consciously.

QUINCY:

Just something I'm trying.

MONICA:

No, it looks good. I mean, it's cool.

QUINCY:

Thanks.

Quincy tries to adjust his footing and flinches in pain.

MONICA:

Shouldn't you be lying down, or...

QUINCY:

I'm alright. But you can sit.

MONICA:

I'm fine. My dad said you tore your ACL.

QUINCY:

Yup.

MONICA:

What are the doctors saying?

QUINCY:

(shrugs)

A lot of things. All I know is I'll be

back in six months.

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