Jackson Pollock Howell (Wolf, F) almost left the FBA.

His family was horrified when their son submitted his name into the 2003 FBA Draft after finishing his master's at Cambridge. The Howells were a family of college professors with generations of wolves studying and teaching in the university's halls. Jack was tall and lanky ever since he was a pup, and basketball seemed a good sport between studies. But his family hadn't realized Jack was the best player on the team or just how much he enjoyed it. It was a grave disappointment when he didn't enter a doctorate program, instead soiling his name pursuing a career as a professional athlete.

At the time, the Montana Howlers were trying to rekindle the flame of the 70's and 80's when the the team dominated the league with vicious, predator-filled rosters. No doubt some scout saw "6 foot 10 wolf" and pressured the team to pick up Howell in the first round. It wasn't long before they found Jack wasn't the snarling, ferocious predator they wanted but a quiet, thoughtful intellectual who prided his game on fundamentals and expert passing. He would have been thrown off the team if FBA rules hadn't forced a 2-year contract. That first year was terrible for Jack who sat ignored in deep reserve, taunted by his coach and teammates but unable to quit lest he face the wrath of his mortified family.

The only comfort Jack found was in a Yamaha C5 grand piano kept in storage at Treasure State Arena. Reserved for the occasional concert, Jack had convinced management to give him a key in exchange for keeping the instrument tuned. Jack was an accomplished pianist-- like anyone with mathematical gifts, music had come easily to him. And he would spend hours at night alone in that storage room, playing to quiet the voices telling him he had made a mistake.

The next year, that scout saved his job when he chose Kwaku Bbwaddene (Jungle Wolf, F) as the team's first pick in the 2004 FBA draft. Standing 6 foot 11 with green fur and long golden hair, the African-born jungle wolf was every bit as terrifying as Jack wasn't. Where Jack's game was about methodical positioning, passing and waiting for the open look, Kwaku's was ultra-athletic, ferocious, about attacking the cup and dunking hard on anyone in the way. And while Jack sat in deep reserve, Kwaku made bench from game one. It was clear to Jack what the team was saying. And they said it when an assistant coach told him to his muzzle, "Kwaku is what you were supposed to be, Jack."

Jack spent longer nights in the storage room, waiting for his second year to end and his contact to expire. Having spent his career as a bench warmer, he knew no one would want to sign him. He would be released and go back to Cambridge, where he would face his spurned family and be reminded of his mistake.

But late one night Jack was surprised when Kwaku came into the storage room. His ears folded, he knew the jungle wolf had heard him playing. But Kwaku was smiling and carrying a djembe, a traditional West African drum played with the paws. It took a moment for Jack to realize Kwaku hadn't come to taunt him. He'd come to join him. And they didn't just play together. They shredded together. It was the most amazing music either of them had ever made.

Jack was more than a little relieved when the Howlers offered him a 1-year extension. A number of injuries had forced the team to put Jack on the floor during the playoffs, where his critical assists shook up the defense and propelled the team to the Western Conference Championship series. And when Charles Yotechuk (Coyote, F) was traded to the Stanislaus Thrust for Lance Cheval (Stallion, C) and Lewis Lachler (Hyena, F), the team needed Howell more than ever. Howell's third year was a breakout, with the wolf's floor awareness and passing ability adding depth to the team's playbook.

And Jack was happier. The taunting had stopped, he was allowed to play his game, and he had a new friend. As it turned out, Kwaku was not the salivating, heartless werewolf he was being marketed as. He was the son of missionaries, raised in a city of apes in the northwestern end of the Republic of the Congo. His real name was Joshua Reed-- the name Kwaku Bbwaddene was what the locals had called him meaning "big dog born on Wednesday". His American parents encouraged him to learn the local customs as much as their own, and Kwaku grew up fluent in four languages. His father had been a college basketball star and taught his son to play, though Kwaku's game was heavily influenced by the high-flying styles of his chimpanzee friends. When Kwaku moved to the States, his muscular physique, ultra-athletic body and wild green fur hid a worldly, educated, and open-minded soul, one that made it easy for Jack and Kwaku-- despite their long list of differences-- to become good friends. And the team saw it. Jack was soon offered an even longer contract after his third year.

When Julio Onca (Black Panther, C/F) horrified the league by tearing open Buck Hopper (Rabbit, G) on the court, the Howlers scrambled to control the damage. With Onca's suspension, they needed Charles Yotechuk back, and they begged the Thrust to trade. They were lucky. Head coach Don Von Wasser had watched Jack Howell and saw the value in his game. And soon the lanky wolf from Cambridge was traveling west to put on a new jersey.

It was a good move. The new team liked Jack's quiet, thoughtful style, and he made fast friends with the young Czech-born sharpshooter Jakub Lyška (Red Fox, G), who struggled with English but could speak comfortably with Jack in German. Jack made starter, and with his help the club made their first Finals appearance in franchise history. It was a dream come true. Jack was an FBA star now. And those voices of question had stopped. He had made the right choice. This was where he belonged.

But he did miss something. He couldn't help but think of the time Kwaku brought his drum to the storage room, and the two wolves had jammed together. It was the first time he felt a part of the league, and he worried he hadn't thanked Kwaku enough for it.

A few years later, Jack and Jakub were traded to Kansas City. It wasn't about their performance-- Don Von Wasser had gone to the trouble of telling them he loved their game and everything they had done. But the team was desperate to win the Finals before Hopper's contract ran out, and changes had to be made. Jack wasn't upset. Professional sports is a business, after all, and just being in the league is its own reward. Besides, the Clefs had a tradition of first-rate musical performances during halftime, and that meant a Steinway Model D was sitting in their storage, the most magnificent piano Jack had ever laid his paws on.

It was a brutal season. The Clefs lost game after game, sitting in the gutter of the conference. It got worse late in the season when Jack hurt his leg, sidelining him for 8 games. Jack watched as the playoffs slipped out of reach and as team after team defeated his new club. But still halftime brought out the most amazing performances-- a ferret classical string quartet, a pair of jackals on sitar and tabla, a feline jazz trio, an Australian rock band of dingos, a rabbit hip-hop artist. For as depressing as the season might have been, Jack loved all the music he got to hear, so many styles, so many artists, so much talent.

When caracal diva Dayo pulled out at the last minute from a scheduled performance, Jack, still recovering from his injury, offered to take her place. When Jack noticed the Howlers were visiting that night, he reached for his phone and texted his old teammate.

KWAKU, BRING THE DJEMBE

And he did.

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A truly beautiful commission from the both artistically and musically talented  christaphorac!

I know for Easter I should be posting up something with bunnies-- but I post up bunnies all year round! So instead you get wolves, but also a story of redemption, of friendship, and how one little gesture of kindness can mean everything to a person. Which is really what Easter is about.