Free Odd Jobs by Ben Lieberman

a bunch of spices on the beef. When all 10 pieces are spiced, another metal tray is locked into the 6-foot guardrails and dropped down on the 10 slabs of beef that were just spiced. Ten more slabs are spiced up and another tray is put on top. This is how a Pastrami Tower is built at Station One, and there are 12 stations in the Pastrami Room. Throughout the day, thousands of towers are created. It looks like a fucking medieval city or something.

    The guy at Pastrami Station Two lets out a big sneeze. He’s courteous enough to his co-workers to catch all the spray in his hands but goes on flinging the spices on the beef. Remind me not to eat Reuben sandwiches anymore. As I look closer, I notice the sneezer is Hector Pinto. He must have been trans f erred here for a while since his injury on the Butcher Block.

    I watch as the Pastrami Towers are sent to be cooked. They are then packaged in airtight plastic packages and boxed. I even follow them to the warehouse. I watch the merchandise go to the warehouse because every time I’m there, I notice a portion being taken out and separated; some packages never actually make it into the warehouse. For every ten boxes, one box gets separated. No one seems to mind or ask and I’m not going to, either. But I know something really crooked is going on here.

     

     
    I’ve burned enough brain cells on pastrami allotment, so it’s basketball time. I’m back to playing hoops at Hempstead Park, and my knee seems to be holding up pretty good. Maybe one day I should put basketball behind me, but I just can’t seem to get it out of my system. I even rationalize that playing b-ball will help me train for the boxing matches. Nothing beats basketball for a real cardio workout.

    What’s really amazing is that Loot and Carey get all three of us onto a pretty hot team for the South Shore Classic. It is a big deal. The tournament lasts three weeks, and I remember as a kid I never missed a game. But the Classic isn’t for just anyone. It draws some of the best talent around, including college players from some big-time programs. All the teams have sponsors, and you have to be invited to play.

    I’m joining our team for the South Shore Classic in the quarterfinals. Rosters can add and subtract players at any time because the organizers know the really big-time talent is not going to commit for an entire three-week clip. So you never know who could show up for the finals. That’s why Loot can add me to the roster on such late notice. Besides being the captain of the team, he’s basically the Mayor of Hempstead Park. It’s all he’s ever aspired to do, and in a way I’m jealous. Loot is probably the happiest guy I ever met.

    Loot’s real name is Jordan Hightower, but “Loot” works great for the South Shore Classic. Hightower gave himself the name Loot because as one of the all-time great trash talkers, he claims to be the “money player.” The guy who announces all the game’s action over the PA system loves nicknames like Loot. This guy is nuts. If you don’t have a nickname like Loot does, odds are you will by the end of the game. The announcer rarely sits and it’s not at all out of the ordinary for him to do his play-by-play standing on top of the scorer’s table, sometimes even on the court. The crowd loves him. They call him the Mouth of the South, Mouth for short.

    I’m glad Mouth likes Loot, because he tends to help us out. Today we need the help. Our team, the Buzzards (named for our sponsor, Buzzard’s Bay Bar and Grill on Fulton Avenue), has a particularly tough match-up. Their team has a 6’10”, 285-pound player that the Mouth has simply dubbed “The Building.” The team’s good, but pretty much it’s The Building and everyone else.

    Mouth is in his glory tonight. He is drawing on every street-ball taunt he has accumulated over his illustrious career, My other great friend, Carey, who Mouth has nicknamed Turbo, has two guys on him and is forced to make a