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  Graduating from high school was an anti-climatic event for Marcus and his mom. Overwhelmed with the disappointment of losing his “ticket” to college, he made plans to enroll in Burnham Junior College. He could live with his mom to save money and perhaps play for Burnham’s team. This was like trying to make lemonade out of a lemon. His mom was able to get Marcus a kitchen helper job at one of her housecleaning clients’ restaurant. He spent all summer working the dinner shift for low wages to save money for school. During the daytime, he was in the park trying to get his basketball legs back. He worked hard at both.

  The junior college coach knew he was enrolling and invited him to walk-on tryouts. Marcus made the team, but he was definitely slower than the other guards were and not big enough to play forward. Six-foot-three players needed to be quick, even on the junior college circuit. Academically, he struggled. Without the bright lights and advantages of a Division I school, he was on his own without tutors and academic advisors. Despite his advanced raw intellectual capacity and above-average IQ, his weak primary school education had taken its toll. It was hard to keep up with the better-prepared students in his classes, and he had become a practice player landing ninth on the team’s depth chart. Marcus was put in games only after the outcomes had been determined, otherwise known as “garbage time”. He dreaded the day he had to tell his mom that their dream had ended. He dropped out of junior college and began looking for a job.

  ***

  He walked around the tall buildings in Chicago trying to secure employment. With his high school certificate in hand, he was out of place in the bustling downtown Chicago area. He was imposing, but soft spoken. The Board of Trade was located at the base of LaSalle Street, in the heart of Chicago’s financial district. He wandered in to use the bathroom and followed the rope lines to the guard station. Before he could ask about public washrooms, he noticed a posting entitled, “Now Hiring”. The list below had several job descriptions. He did not know what most of these positions meant, but when the guard behind the desk offered to help him, Marcus said he was there to apply for a job. He called someone on the phone and after a couple minutes directed Marcus to an elevator bank taking him to the Human Resources Department.

  He was so nervous he almost wet his pants. Sitting across from a person who reminded Marcus of his junior college teachers, he reviewed the openings: Mailroom and Security Guard. The HR recruiter liked Marcus’ gentle demeanor and was conscious of his large body frame. He offered Marcus a job as a security guard.

  “Of course you’ll have to pass a background check. Then, we will send you to the county’s firearm training session. Assuming you pass this course, we will get you outfitted with a uniform and secure a firearm, handcuffs and other tools of your new trade. How does that sound young man?”

  “Outstanding,” Marcus replied without hesitation. “When can I start?”

  ***

  He quickly cleared the background check and easily passed the firearms training course. He worked the same guard desk where he first stumbled in looking for work. Marcus was the first contact that traders saw every morning as they entered the coliseum of commodity trading.

  “How ‘bout them Sox?” he learned to say to the south side traders.

  “This is the Cubbie’s year, right?” he said to the north side folks.

  In the fall or winter he would ask, “When are we going to get a QB for ‘da Bears’?” or “Did you see how many points Michael scored yesterday?”

  Many employees traded sports barbs with Marcus. He became so beloved that around Christmas time he had the most gifts and holiday tips of any employee at the Board. He occasionally had to break up heated disturbances by angry traders in the pits. He was big enough to split the combatants and he got along with everyone, so when he intervened, the temperature of the fight dropped right away. He enjoyed the attention and took his assignment seriously – turning away vagrants and unauthorized patrons. Members really came to like his friendly disposition.

  One of the members of the Board of Trade was Jon Handelair. He was an entrepreneurial immigrant, originally from Holland, who found his way onto the Chicago Board of Trade. As a young man, Jon made a fortune trading wheat futures during President Nixon’s export embargo to the Soviet Union. He stopped trading futures contracts after he had accumulated substantial wealth, and was now working as an administrator at the Board of Trade. Mr. Handelair knew most members either from trading days or as a department director. He was certainly an executive, but he made it a point to know people by name. Exchanging hello’s before the day began was a normal ritual between Marcus and Mr. Handelair.

  No matter the weather or economic conditions, Mr. Handelair greeted Marcus by saying, “It’s a beautiful day to trade today!”

  And Marcus, paying homage to the ever optimistic hall of fame Cub player Ernie Banks, would respond, “Let’s play two today!” Both laughed and high-fived each other to start each day.

  ***

  A few years later, the Board of Trade administration decided to sponsor a recreational basketball league at the Chicago Club to foster after-hours fun with member firms. Fighting to buy and sell wheat, corn and pork belly contracts daily was a high stress, physically challenging way to make a living. Many market participants were ex-athletes, or at the very least, had competitive personalities. It was no accident that most traders were under forty years old. Rigors of trading shortened most members’ careers. The purpose of the basketball league was to let the member firms blow-off steam and establish sportsmanship that might spill over onto the trading floor. Jon Handelair asked Marcus to play on the exchange’s staff team. Marcus was flattered to be included in an otherwise good-old-boys culture consisting of high-income traders and well-educated staff members. Marcus had a sense of his place on the team and in the league. Although he was easily the best player in the league, he decided to play half-speed just for fun and exercise. He purposely would not show off in front of the members or staff on the hard-court.

  The official scorekeeper for the Board of Trade league was Jon’s daughter, Elizabeth. Although Hyde Park was close to the projects where Marcus grew up, Elizabeth Handelair did not attend any of the local Chicago Public Schools. She was bright, and more importantly her family was rich. She attended the University Of Chicago Laboratory High School where she developed an idealistic attitude along with her privileged classmates. Elizabeth fit in well with the elite Hyde Park crowd, but was not completely comfortable with her social status. She volunteered in a program sponsored by the mayor’s literacy program to help inner city kids develop reading skills. She felt good about her volunteer participation and it caused her to reevaluate her family’s materialist dispositions. Her conservative parents travelled with the south side “in crowd”. They watched Elizabeth evolve from her inherited spoiled affluence to a socially conscious young woman.

  Upon graduation, her friends made plans to attend largely conservative, Midwestern schools such as the state universities of Illinois, Iowa, and Indiana, or private institutions including Northwestern, Chicago, and DePaul. Elizabeth had other ideas. She chose to attend Haverford Liberal Arts College near Philadelphia over her second choice, the University of Wisconsin (otherwise known as the Berkley of the Midwest). Her Haverford peers were similar to her in many respects. They had wealthy parents, well-prepared academic training at excellent high schools, and an introduction to living well. These students did not want for much. The difference between Elizabeth and her new classmates was that she arrived on campus with her father’s middle class values: hard work, academic study, and a clannish dedication to his family.

  Haverford cemented her drift toward liberal approaches to life. She thought that some of her father’s values were understandable, but ideals of the past generation. During college, not only did she evolve with her political and social philosophies, she blossomed into a beautiful woman. She was tall, and her natural blond hair color was consistent with her genetic Dutch tendencies. Elizabeth also had acc
ess to family money. However, she neither wanted to become a “trust fund baby” nor was she prepared to lower her standard of living.

  After college graduation festivities ended, Elizabeth came home for the summer to her family’s spacious penthouse to plan her future. She had great options for the fall: DePaul Law School or Northwestern MBA or a two-year stint in South America working for the Peace Corps. Helping her Dad with the basketball league and other temporary jobs gave her something to do for the summer while she sorted out her fall choices.

  Elizabeth became the scorekeeper for the Board of Trade Basketball League. Participants in games usually ended up at a funky, downtown Chicago watering hole called The Bar Double R after each game. The staff team led by Marcus Imari lost the first three league games to the members, and Elizabeth could not help but razz Marcus one night at the bar.

  “At least your team is very consistent this year” she teased. “Maybe you could beat my little brother’s team!”

  Elizabeth surprised Marcus with her opening salvo for this conversation. She normally ignored him – instead seeking the company of the young, white and up-and-coming traders. He found her beauty quite appealing, but perhaps out of reach for a college dropout.

  “We could beat any of the teams in the league if we really want to,” Marcus replied. “We found the secret.”

  “What about the undefeated “Trader Carl’s” team? They beat you last week like a drum. I’m serious, you might not win a game this year,” Elizabeth paused. “Alright, what is the secret?”

  “We need to charge up on barbeque ribs from Tropical Hut. It is a smokehouse on Stoney Island. That’s our secret plan,” he laughed.

  Elizabeth persisted. “What a great plan – load up right before a game and be slower than you are already! I really think that you probably are not going to win a game this year. Let’s make a bet on your next game against Trader Carl’s team. How about this - if you lose to them, you have to bring me Tropical Hut Ribs?”

  “And if we win?”

  “Marcus, you don’t have a chance of that. However, if you win, I will bring you lunch from Manny’s Deli. OK?”

  Sensing an opportunity but being nervous about crossing an unspoken, invisible line, Marcus debated about his response Throwing caution to the wind and ignoring the fact that she was Caucasian and the daughter of one his bosses, he replied, “That’s not enough, given how good Trader Carl’s team seems to be. They are undefeated. How about this - if we lose, Tropical Hut Ribs are ok. But if we win, you must promise to go out on a date with me.”

  Marcus stunned Elizabeth by his counteroffer; this was a test of her idealism. She was not really inclined to date a black man, but she was so sure of the cocky Trader Carl’s team against the staff’s ragtag squad. It may have been the wine cooler talking but she replied, “You’re on, Marcus Imari. By the way, I like ribs with mild sauce!”

  ***

  Marcus reminded her of the bet the next few times he saw her at the gym. The staff team continued to lose games because Marcus had not yet showed his complete skill set. He anxiously anticipated the upcoming game against Trader Carl’s team. If somehow his team won, he would have a date with a fine woman, albeit someone way out of his social and educational range. Before the game, Marcus asked his team to gather round for a meeting.

  “Fellas, I want you to know something about this game. I made a bet with one of the boss’ daughters that we would win. “

  “Are you crazy, Imari?” broke in one of his teammates. “We haven’t won a game yet, and you think we can beat the best team in the league?”

  “I’m just asking you to try hard tonight. I’m going to play tougher than you’ve seen so far, and I might hog the ball a little – because I’m not going, we are not going to lose tonight.”

  No one took offense at Marcus’ instructions. Most of them suspected that so far he was playing at half speed anyway. They left the locker room fired up, ready to contribute to their first team win.

  “Elizabeth, the bet’s on right?” he reiterated as he went by the scorer’s table.

  “Remember, mild sauce, please,” she shot back with a smile.

  The game started with a couple of missed jump shots. After snagging one of many defensive rebounds, Marcus dribbled the ball “coast to coast” and dunked the ball for an inspiring score. His teammates marveled at the range of his skills unseen until that night. They were reluctant to shoot in the first half, and it was all Marcus. He swatted Trader Carl’s shots away on defense and put in layup after layup in his own basket. As the game wore on, he was double and triple teamed which allowed his fellow teammates to have open, uncontested shots. The staff team’s first win shocked everybody, especially Elizabeth. She knew she had to face the date arrangements at The Bar Double R that night after the league games ended.

  “How’s Saturday night?” Marcus asked Elizabeth.

  “I don’t, don’t know” She stuttered as she anticipated her father’s objection to her going on a date with a black man.

  “You can’t skate on this bet. No reneging allowed. I will pick you up Saturday night. You’ll have fun and I promise to get you home safely.”

  Thinking she would satisfy the bet as quickly as possible, she said, “OK, OK. Let’s go early. How about 5:00. Pick me up in Hyde Park”.

  “I can’t wait,” he replied.

  ***

  Music was blasting from the windows of the car as Marcus drove south to pick up his date. Maniacally he changed stations, honking at stopped cars not immediately recognizing the green light ahead of him, and checking his watch persistently. He turned off the radio a few blocks away and practiced aloud, “Good evening, Elizabeth, you look fine tonight!”

  “Hi Elizabeth. You look beautiful tonight!”

  “Hi, you look nice! That is it. I’ll keep it simple.”

  Elizabeth was waiting under the protective awning leading into her father’s Hyde Park condominium. Marcus pulled up in his modest five years old, four cylinders Ford Maverick. He got out of the car thinking he should call up to the condominium to pick up his date, but immediately saw Elizabeth waiting by the sidewalk. She had pulled her hair back and she was wearing makeup – she looked beautiful in the late afternoon sun. Marcus opened the car door for her and off they went.

  “I’m so used to seeing you in basketball shorts and t-shirts. You look very nice tonight dressed-up,” she said to break the silence.

  Marcus was so nervous he forgot his practiced opening line and blurted out, “You smell good, too”. Her lilac perfume was distinctive, but so much for his practice greetings.

  “So, where are we going to eat?” she asked.

  “I want to take you to get ribs at the Hut, but before we go I need to make a quick stop. I hope that you don’t mind.”

  “It depends on where it is.”

  “I want to introduce you to my kids. It will just take ten minutes, and then we’ll grab dinner,” Marcus said.

  The word “kids” was ringing in her ears. She had no idea that he had children. She was shocked. This was going to be the worst date of her life. Her stomach flipped over. As if he did not have enough strikes against him already, she regretted ever making the bet with Marcus. Her face became flush. Any small amount of enthusiasm she might have had flew out of the window as they made the short drive to the near west side. Marcus parked the car in front of an old high school building in the Englewood neighborhood. He shut off the engine and got out of the car. Being a gentleman, he hustled awkwardly around the passenger side and opened her door.

  “Come on,” he suggested as he put his hand out to help her out of the car. “My kids are inside.”

  They walked through the heavy wooden doors and up a long creaky flight of stairs. He led her down a short hallway and opened a classroom door. As soon as they popped inside, five boys ran toward Marcus. He put one knee down to their level and had a group hug with all of the kids. The boys were looking at Elizabeth and whispering questions to Marcus. />
  “Something’s not right here,” Elizabeth thought. “The boys are all about the same age, maybe 10 years old, and they are calling him Mr. Marcus.”

  “Boys,” Marcus said. “I want to introduce you to a friend of mine. I work with her at the Board of Trade and she came with me tonight to meet y’all. This is Ms. Elizabeth.”

  “Hi Ms. Elizabeth,” the boys shouted in unison as she shook their hands in turn.

  The high school kid, who was watching the boys before Marcus arrived, waited for the commotion to die down and asked, “Mr. Marcus, would you like the boys to read their stories to you and Ms. Elizabeth? They have been working hard today.”

  Marcus winked at the older boy and said, “Love to hear them. Let’s have ‘em”.

  One by one, each child read his story to Elizabeth and Marcus. They were all similar versions of the following:

  “Mr. Marcus is our basketball coach at Englewood Boys Club. He is so cool and very tall. He helps us learn basketball. We have fun with him too, but he makes us do homework before we can play.”

  Elizabeth understood, these were not his biological kids – he was a volunteer big brother. He was a huge influence in the boys’ lives. She felt emotionally moved by how much respect the kids showed to Marcus. Based on the way Marcus and the kids interacted, they might as well have been his real children. She was so impressed. “Your stories are awesome,” she told the boys.

  “Well, kids. Ms. Elizabeth and I have to roll. I know you guys have swimming tonight, so have fun and remember to read your books at home this weekend. I’ll see you Monday after school.”

  One of them begged, “Can’t you watch us swim for a little bit?”