Love and Basketball Page #3

Monica lifts her bike from the ground and climbs on.

QUINCY (cont'd)

Wait. Cause you're my girl now you

gotta ride my bike.

MONICA:

I want to ride my own bike.

QUINCY:

My Dad always drives my Mom.

MONICA:

So?

QUINCY:

(impatient)

So that means I have to ride with you.

Monica doesn't move.

QUINCY (cont'd)

Come on.

MONICA:

I don't have to do what you say.

QUINCY:

Man, forget you then, stupid.

MONICA:

You're stupid. And your Daddy plays for

the worst team in the NBA.

Quincy's face instantly clouds.

QUINCY:

What?

MONICA:

(laughs)

Last time they won, Dr. J. was a nurse.

QUINCY:

Shut up!

He shoves her, knocking her off her bike.

QUINCY (cont'd)

I don't wanna be your boyfriend, you ugly

dog!

Monica leaps up, her dress now dirty. She shoves him back.

MONICA:

I don't want to be your girlfriend, big

head!

They grapple, then fall to the ground swinging...

FADE TO:

BLACK.

FOOTAGE. Men's NCAA Finals. Michigan State against Indiana

State. Magic Johnson against Larry Bird. Magic drives on

Bird, hits a beautiful scoop shot. He celebrates as he jogs

back down court...

FADE IN:

TITLE CARD:
"SECOND QUARTER" then "1988"

INT. CRENSHAW HIGH SCHOOL GYM - DAY

A snarling Black cougar glares down from a large mural. On

the court below, a girl's basketball play-off game.

The bleachers are almost half-full with a hyped crowd. In

the crowd are Monica's parents. Her father is excited and

vocal. Her mom reads a book. Also in the stands, the HEAD

COACH OF THE TENNESSEE LADY VOLS, PAT SUMMIT.

A fine-ass BROTHER leans in the doorway, sporting a letter

jacket with an embroidered "Q" on the chest. He gets as much

attention as the game. A couple of JUNIOR VARSITY

CHEERLEADERS smile his way.

CHEERLEADERS:

"U", "G", "L", "Y", you ain't got no

alibi, you ugly, yeah, yeah, you ugly.

"M", "A", "M", "A", how you think you got

that way, your Mama, yeah, yeah, your

Mama.

On the floor, MONICA, dribbles down court. Just EIGHTEEN,

her athletic figure has a few curves, but her loose jersey

does little to show it off. Her hair is a mess and her knees

are dark with bruises. A small scar is visible on her cheek.

She whips a no-look, around the back pass to a cutting

TEAMMATE under the basket, who scores. The crowd cheers.

Monica defends the opposing point guard like a gnat. She

knocks the ball loose and grabs it up. She goes for a lay-up

and the opposing guard steps in front of her. Monica crashes

into her, knocking both to the floor.

A WHISTLE.

REFEREE:

No basket! Offensive foul, number thirty-

two.

Monica leaps up.

MONICA:

What? She wasn't set!

The referee ignores her.

MONICA (cont'd)

She was still moving!

From the sideline, COACH HISERMAN waves frantically.

COACH HISERMAN:

Monica! Let it go!

Monica stares down the ref as she jogs back on defense.

The opposing guard drives the lane and puts up a shot.

Monica leaps and blocks it with a taunting scream. A

WHISTLE.

REFEREE:

Technical foul! Number thirty-two.

Coach Hiserman slams down his clipboard. Monica charges the

referee. A teammate grabs at her but she pushes her off.

MONICA:

For what?

REFEREE:

Taunting.

MONICA:

Taunting?!

COACH HISERMAN:

Sub!

MONICA:

Man, you suck!

The referee whips back around, whistle in mouth. Coach

Hiserman grabs her arm and pulls her off the court.

COACH HISERMAN:

Sit down and shut up.

Monica slams down in a chair, sweat pouring, hands clenched.

Her mom watches from the stands, completely embarrassed. The

brother in the doorway turns, leaves.

Monica looks up at the clock. SIX MINUTES LEFT IN THE THIRD

QUARTER.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. CRENSHAW HIGH SCHOOL GYM - LATE DAY

Monica, still benched, sits slumped in her chair, her sweats

on, her face dry. She glances up at the clock. TWENTY

SECONDS LEFT IN THE FOURTH QUARTER. Her team's up by SIX.

Her teammates dribble out the clock. The BUZZER SOUNDS and

they dance across the floor. Monica looks up in the stands.

COACH SUMMIT IS GONE.

INT. WRIGHT HOUSE - KITCHEN - DUSK

Camille, now forty-three, stands at the stove stirring a pot

of gumbo. Lena, 21, and pretty, stands next to her, holding

a handful of plates and silverware.

CAMILLE:

...and if you want a thicker base, you

can cut in a potato or just use a little

flour.

LENA:

But you use potato?

Camille nods as they cross into:

INT. DINING ROOM - CONTINUOUS

At the table, Monica is in mid-conversation with her dad.

Camille and Lena start setting the table.

MONICA:

Dad, you have to talk to Coach for me.

NATHAN:

And what am I supposed to say to the man?

MONICA:

The coach from Tennessee was there and he

has me riding the bench.

NATHAN:

You lost your head.

MONICA:

I was just showing emotion.

CAMILLE:

So that means it's alright for you to act

like that?

LENA:

(to Monica)

What'd you do?

MONICA:

(dismissive)

nothing.

CAMILLE:

I don't know why I keep hoping you'll

grow out of this tomboy thing.

MONICA:

I won't. I'm a lesbian.

Lena chokes on her drink, cracks up.

CAMILLE:

That's not funny

MONICA:

Well, that's what you think, isn't it?

Cause I'd rather wear a jersey than an

apron...

CAMILLE:

Watch your mouth.

Nathan quickly jumps in, tries to clean things up.

NATHAN:

Monica, I think her point is...maybe it's

time to start thinking about other things

besides basketball.

MONICA:

(taken aback)

What?

NATHAN:

You only have one game left and you

haven't been recruited. Munchkin, I

wanted it as bad as you did, but we have

to face reality.

MONICA:

The coach from USC is going to be at the

championship.

NATHAN:

I know. But chances are...

MONICA:

Chances are there's still a chance.

Nathan nods. She can always soften her dad, but not her mom.

CAMILLE:

If you'd just listen for once, you'd

realize you have a lot more going for

yourself. You're smart, you'd be pretty

if you put a comb to your head. I mean,

why walk around with your hair looking

like "whodunit"...?

As her mom nags on, Monica looks out the window.

OUTSIDE, QUINCY and a GIRL lean against a car parked at the

curb, slobbing each other down.

Just shy of 18, with a magnetic face and muscular body, he is

a brother who drank his chocolate milk. HE IS ALSO THE

BROTHER WHO WAS WATCHING MONICA'S GAME FROM THE GYM DOORWAY.

Monica watches and her mom's droning voice disappears...

EXT. MCCALL HOUSE - SAME TIME

FELICIA, 17, can't get enough of Quincy's lips.

QUINCY:

Yo, Felicia, I gotta get to my game.

She keeps kissing him.

QUINCY (cont'd)

And my mom's about to be home.

FELICIA:

So I'm not good enough to meet your mom?

QUINCY:

Girl, she knew I had a hottie like you

up inhere, she'd beat the black off me.

FELICIA:

(kissing him again)

That's a lot of beating.

She finally lets go, and slides into her car. Quincy watches

her go with a cocky-ass smile.

INT. CRENSHAW HIGH SCHOOL GYM - NIGHT

A frenzied crowd from floor to ceiling watches Quincy explode

across the court. He is the complete point guard - hitting

from the outside, driving to the hoop, no-look passes,

playing tight D.'

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