The Tail of the Tip-Off Read Online Free

applauded the Clemson team. As the players retired to the locker rooms, quiet fans filed out.
    It was mid-season. The teams in the conference were all getting better, together. As the crowd shuffled down the circular halls, they discussed the toughness of Clemson and their thoughts on UVA's next game.
    Josef P., still in his ref's striped shirt, sprinted out into the parking lot to his car. He opened the door and pulled out a gym bag and as he turned to run back through the sleet, Fred Forrest stopped him. He was by himself, as Mychelle had hurried to her car on the other side of the lot.
    â€œYou cost us the game, asshole!”
    Matthew Crickenberger, passing on the way to his car, stopped. “Hey, that's enough of that.”
    â€œDon't you tell me what to do. You're the last person who should tell me what to do,” Fred sneered.
    â€œWhat are you going to do, Fred, fine me for being off a quarter of an inch on an access ramp?” Matthew said but with some geniality.
    Josef shivered in the sleet as Fred stepped in his path. H.H. came up, having sent his family to the station wagon.
    â€œI'll do whatever I want!” Fred, adrenaline still pumping after the game, shouted. “You'd better remember that.” He pointed his finger at H.H. “You, too. Bunch of rich assholes. And you, asshole”—Fred suffered from an attenuated vocabulary—“make a call like that in a playoff and you're dead.”
    â€œGo on,” Matthew said to Josef as he stepped in front of Fred to block him from taking a swing at Josef. “For Chrissake, Fred, it's only a game.”
    Josef ran, shivering, back to U-Hall. By now a crowd had gathered around, including Harry, BoomBoom, Fair, Big Mim, Jim, Little Mim, Blair, and others. Aunt Tally sulked in Big Mim's Bentley but her niece refused to allow her to stand in the worsening weather.
    The animals, awakened by the slamming of doors, watched. They heard bits and snatches of the fuss, which was a row down from their truck.
    Then Fred surveyed his audience. “It's not just a game. Basketball is life.” He spit on the ground next to H.H.'s shoe.
    â€œCrude.” Blair towered over Fred.
    â€œDrop dead,” Fred snarled up at the handsome face.
    â€œIt's bad sportsmanship, Fred, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself.” H.H. was disgusted.
    â€œWho are you to talk? You crawled over the old Miller and Rhoads building when Matthew wasn't there. Trying to figure out how to run with the big dogs.”
    H.H., a little raw on the subject of competition with Matthew, swung at Fred, hitting him square in the gut.
    Fred doubled over. Fair Haristeen, strong as an ox, quickly grabbed H.H. from behind, and walking him backwards, pulled him to the family station wagon.
    Fred, helped to his feet by Matthew, screamed after him, “I will get you! You'd better be perfect because I'm going to make your life miserable!”
    â€œThat's enough, Fred.” Matthew was disgusted with the wiry middle-aged inspector.
    â€œAsshole,” Fred snarled at Matthew then stalked off.
    â€œWhat a jerk!” Little Mim shook her head, scattering snowflakes. The sleet was turning to snow.
    â€œDon't use slang, dear, it's so common,” her mother, wrapped in mink, her second best coat for winter, said sotto voce.
    â€œOh, Mother.” Little Mim turned her shoulder to her mother, slipped her hand in Blair's. “Let's go to Oxo, shall we?”
    Mim glared as her daughter sauntered off. Then she turned to Harry standing next to her. “Think twice before having children.”
    â€œI'll be sure to be married first.” Harry tried to lighten the moment.
    â€œThere is that.” Big Mim exhaled, then looked skyward. “We'd better all get home before the sleet that's underneath all this turns to ice.”
    â€œAlready has, honeybun, already has.” Big Jim returned his attention to his wife after watching Fair deposit a