The gym floorboards rattled under the electrical exuberance of feet in the bleachers. High school boys jogged onto the court in predestined triumph, their jerseys streaming in line like a solid, red flag. In the tornado of noise, hands clapped synchronous thunder and beautifully discordant voices drowned the celebratory music. Enthusiasm savagely slung from one side of the bleachers to the other as names blared from the loudspeaker. Deep in the heart of the energy, I pounded my chest in furious pride and stretched my mouth in cheer until I felt my father tug on my shirt. He was clutching his arm. He was crying.