Three Headed Owl

The Temple Owls had a special men’s basketball team in the early nineties. They had the indominable three headed monster consisting of Aaron McKie, Eddie Jones and Rick Brunson. Every offensive play went through these three and one of the three ended the offensive possession with the shot launching from his hands. The opponent knew what the Owls had on their playbooks. Yet, the Owls had tremendous success with this three-headed attack. Imagine three Jordans concocting an offensive scheme against your defense. Each individually cannot be guarded one on one, yet they also had the ability to assist one another to score against you. And by any way necessary: from deep range, inside out, from the post, on the break and so on. Plus, the Owls have the power of North Philly pushing them through. What made the 3 so watchable to me was their confidence under the pressure of having the ball in their hands most of a game. They never seemed shook even while Coach John Chaney barked at them from the sideline. The phrase, “tough as nails,” comes to the front of my mind. These dudes were just playing hoops, what existed outside the gym was far more intimidating than the wrath of an angry John Chaney. I watched their flow for many Saturdays as they balled out of control against some pretty good competition. They always remained stoic and confident in the skill set, their abilities. At that point in my life, 19-20 years old, I needed some of that confidence. I needed to find smooth. I needed to find calm. I needed to find the confidence to continue my personal growth. I needed to be Eddie Jones with the ball in my hands and finding that I am the shot caller. Scoring relentlessly and without want of recognition for the scoring, because it would come effortlessly. Like, oh this is something I do on the regular. A regular degular scorer.

Let me fast forward to the mid-nineties, circa 1996. I am lucky enough to have my best friend as the coolest cat on his grind. We reconnected in 96, both of us about 22 years old. His style is proficient in self-confidence. Enough that his cups overflow with it. Something of a phenomenon to me. I was still working my way through the fray and navigating the issue of finding my place. He already knew his place, aka where he wanted to be, so his sights were set on a goal at a much earlier age than me. This guy is my Ace, I owe a lot of me to him. We found each other again in a time when I needed someone to find me for myself.

So, summer of 96, my Ace and I roll out to Philly for the evening. We go to the African American museum of history in North Philly. Every first Friday of the month, the museum was converted to a dance club. It was one of those nights, as they say. Beautiful women everywhere, Diddy and Mase bumpin from the speakers. But, you know, we’re waiting for Keith Murray to be blasted from the turntables. You know, we’re a little more grimy than Diddy. Me and my man are chillin in the museum/club. I recognized his dedication to me that night. My social skills were still gaining steam but his were player status already. He stood by me and made the scene. This guy does not give an F about nothing. Smooth, he made it like we were the party and everyone wanted to be VIP with us. Ladies were giving looks, dudes were flashing respect. My man’s confidence was infectious as he danced by himself. He is the shit. So, the evening progresses and I’m feeling nice with a Rum and Coke. We chillin and vibin. I saw Eddie Jones come through the crowd, he walked past me and looked at me. I might have given him the head nod. I felt like a smooth operator, operating correctly. I wanted to challenge Eddie one on one, just for fun. Maybe for a round of shots. But, as smooth as he entered, just as quick he was gone. He flew away like an Owl.

January 30, 2018 (fast forward)

We went to Philly last Saturday. The underdog Eagles are in the Super Bowl next week. We started our day at one of my favorite watering holes. The Beer King on the southeast corner of Market and 43rd St. Me and my other Ace. The years have passed since the nights in the 90’s and thank goodness I was able to grow some confidence. Thank goodness for those evenings in the Illadelph with my friend.