Introducing Richard Koenigsberg, human being

I had a great deal of prestige in the lower-class community in which I grew up. But then my parents moved to an upper-class community (I was in danger of becoming a "hoods"), where I instantly became  a nothing.

Thank God I knew how to play basketball. I did radical things (for that time) like "passing behind my back." I was ruthless and fearless in driving to the basket. One square type (they were all square in those days, angry at me for my boldness & flamboyance said, "Who do you think you are, Bob Cousy?)"

Little did he know this would become my nickname, Cousy, or the Cous. And everyone spoke of "the Cous" with warmth, not knowing the name was born in hostility.

Even my best friends addressed me by this name (almost never Richard). This name lasted throughout high school and beyond (even though I barely made the JV basketball team--15th man sitting on the end of the bench and rarely playing) as my basketball career ended.

So, I went from being a very popular guy in the lower-class community to being NOTHING in the upper middle-class community. Still, I was an athlete. There was an 8th Grade Athletic Club. Mr. Tice, the gym teacher, was the coach. 30 guys were chosen for the "Athletic Club". 

Then, there was the selection for the starting five. Thrilling to see it posted on the bulletin board: Bob Davies, Buster Lawder, Tom Moore, Dave Dornbusch, and RICHARD KOENIGSBERG. I instantly became "somebody."

The guys on the team didn't like me. I was outside the "clique." Plus, I was a daring player, unconventional for the time, driving to the basket whenever I felt like it, passing behind my back, stealing the ball. In those days, "passing the ball around" was the thing. Buster Lawder would look at me, then pass the ball to someone else. But Mr. Tice, the coach like me, and the other players had to tolerate me.

I probably weighed 110 pounds at that point, but I wasn't aware of how small I was. The other guys didn't treat me as if I was small.

What's more, I wore very heavy glasses. The first coach was a bit contemptuous, until I made a few hook shots from the foul line. He called me "specs." But at one point my co-backcourt man (Bob Davies, 180 pounds) was so fed up with my ball-handling antics that he said, "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, BOB COUSY" (the great Celtics star).

BORN IN HOSTILITY, but the nickname stuck throughout my high-school days and beyond. I was known as Cousy and "Cous" and "the Cous" by some. And my younger brother was called "Little Cous." Well, this was deeply satisfying, although eventually I took it for granted that I was "the Cous."

My name was what the scholars call a "narrative." But one doesn't create a "narrative" out of nothing. Social constructions build upon EMBODIED REALITY. And it was my physical agility, strength and refusal to be intimidated that was the source of the narrative, my nickname. And no matter how much my "teammates" challenged me (110 pounds with thick glasses), i they couldn't dislodge THE COUS.