Foul Trouble

by John Feinstein

  He smiled. “Of course, if you want to sign early with us, I withdraw everything I just said.”

  Terrell laughed. He really did like Coach Todd. And, he had to admit, the decision that had felt so clear-cut the night Coach K had been in his house felt less so now. “I’ll think about everything you said,” he promised.

  “That’s all I can ask,” Coach Todd said. “That and your signature on a letter of intent.”

  On Friday, Terrell would have found that request laughable. Now, he nodded his head and said, “We’ll see.”

  Coach Wilcox had scheduled practice for four o’clock Sunday afternoon in order to give Terrell and Danny plenty of time to get back from their final campus visits. Danny had been at Harvard, meaning he had spent the night at the Marriott Long Wharf, a really nice downtown hotel, and not in his own home, even though they were about equidistant from Harvard.

  “If I could spend four years staying in that hotel, I’d commit to Harvard right now,” Danny said as they were getting into their practice gear. “Place is right on the water, across the street from Faneuil Hall.”

  “Yeah, but what’d you think of Harvard?”

  “Where?” Danny said. Then he laughed. “Honestly—it’s a great place. I loved Coach Amaker, just like on his visit, and the players are cool. The campus is amazing. But do I want to go to a place where I can’t get a scholarship? Do I want to be so close to home? Do I want to study that hard?”

  “And?”

  “I don’t know! Why don’t you go there with me and we can make history. Take ’em to the Final Four.”

  Terrell laughed. “Now you sound like Coach Todd,” he said.

  Practice was spirited, since they’d had two days off. Terrell would have liked to have gone out for post-practice pizza with the other guys, but he had homework, so he begged off, showered quickly, and was the first one out the back door to the parking lot. He was tossing his gym bag into the backseat of his mom’s car when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

  “You’ve lost your white shadow, Terrell. Amazing.”

  He turned and saw Maurice leaning against a car a few spaces away from his.

  The rest of the dudes were there too: Anthony, Chao, Sky, Dante, and the new guy, Felipe.

  “What’s up, Mo?” Terrell said, trying to sound friendly and not impatient.

  “We’re heading over to Norm’s,” Maurice said. “We thought we’d pick you up on the way.”

  Norm’s was a divey bar/restaurant named after the Cheers character.

  “Can’t do it tonight, Mo,” he said, smiling. “Just got back from a college visit. I’ve got homework, and my mom’s waiting on me. That’s why I’m out of here so much faster than anyone else. Next time, okay?”

  He started to pull open the front door.

  “No, not okay,” Maurice said, pushing himself away from the car to walk over to Terrell. He was about a foot shorter than Terrell and yet, for some reason, Terrell always found him intimidating. “You’re coming with us. In fact, I’m going to ride over there with you. We need to talk.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Terrell didn’t say a word during the drive to Norm’s, and neither did Maurice. When they walked in, the place was almost empty—not too many people out on a rainy Sunday night. The rest of the dudes were already seated at a booth way in the back.

  Terrell sat down on one side while Maurice sat down on the other. Somehow this felt like a showdown.

  “You want something?” Chao asked. “Drink? You hungry?”

  “Starving,” Terrell said. “Which is why I’d like to go home for dinner, and do the pile of homework I’ve got waiting. But apparently Mo has something he wants to talk about.”

  Anthony grunted. “Dude, if you’re breathing, you’ll get into any college you want. They don’t care ’bout your history grade.”

  “But my mother does,” Terrell said. “And she’s more important than the colleges. And more important than you, for that matter.” He started to stand up.

  Maurice leaned across the table, put a hand firmly on Terrell’s shoulder, and pushed him down. He was surprisingly strong for his size. “Terrell, don’t be like that. Give your old friends a minute. We’re worried about you.”

  “Worried?” That was unexpected. “Why would you be worried about me?”

  “We think you’re missing your main chance,” Maurice said. “Your straight-arrow coach—he wants you to take a scholarship and that’s it, right?”

  “What else would I take?” Terrell said, though of course he knew.

  Maurice sat back and looked at the other dudes. “Told you,” he said. “They’ve got him snowed.” He leaned forward again. “Terrell, you know how much all these people are gonna make off you? You’re worth millions to any college you go to, to the TV networks, to the shoe company that has their deal, to the coach, to the coach’s agent, to the president of the college—hell, to the entire athletic department, which will be selling your jersey. While you get nothing. Everyone gets rich except you.”

  “I get rich if I make it to the NBA. And if I don’t make it to the NBA, if I do what I’m supposed to, I get a college degree.”

  “Excuse me for sayin’ so, ’cause I don’t really know you that well, but are you kidding?” Felipe said. “You sound like one of those commercials they play during games, where everyone’s a student-athlete and is goin’ to end up as president or something.”

  Terrell actually laughed. Felipe was right—he did sound like one of those stupid commercials. He and Danny loved to hate them—they were like parodies of themselves. Their favorite was the one where someone was a swimmer but also a concert violinist. “I hear you,” he said. “And I know there’s a lot more on offer. Trust me, I know. But I don’t want to owe anything to anyone.”

  “You don’t need to,” Maurice said. “People should owe you.”

  Terrell shook his head. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going. “What’ve you got in mind?”

  “A win-win for everyone.” Terrell said nothing, so Maurice pushed on. “There are people who someday are going to want to do business with you—who want to start doing business now. If you want to play by the NCAA’s rules, no reason you can’t. You never even have to meet any of them. We’ll be their bridge to you until the day you turn pro.”

  “Bridge?”

  “We’ll be, like, your agents—even though we’re not officially agents, so no one can say you have an agent. People can pay us, but really the money’s for you, see? Less a small percent, of course. The point is, you can start making money—and earning interest—right now, instead of having to wait.”

  “And how are you going to convince these ‘people’ that I’ve given you permission to represent me—officially or unofficially?”

  “Easy,” Maurice said, clearly prepared for the question. He pointed at Sky, who reached into his jacket pocket and produced a piece of paper, which he handed to Maurice.

  “Sky’s got a friend who’s a lawyer. All it says is we’re your unofficial reps until you turn pro. Nothing binding, except it shows people you know that we’re helping you out. No one will ever even know about it except the people we show it to as proof you’re with us.”

  Terrell knew that what Maurice was proposing was ridiculous. But he didn’t want to just laugh it off and make him mad. “Let me think about it,” he said.

  Maurice looked at him suspiciously. “You’re just trying to stall, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Terrell admitted with a sigh. “Maurice, you know I can’t sign anything like that. For about a hundred reasons.”

  “You got a better idea?” Maurice said, sounding irritated again.

  “No. I haven’t been thinking about this,” Terrell replied.

  “Which is why you need us to think for you,” Maurice shot back. “Your old friends. Who knew you when. Who know all your secrets. Those things you’d rather keep between us…you know, like what a partier you are.”

  Terrell jus
t stared at him. “I’m not—you know it was just that one time.… ”

  “I’m kidding, come on.” Maurice grinned, but his tone was anything but light. “Loyal friends like us, we’d never let anything bad happen to you. Friends take care of each other. Right?”

  What could he say to that? “Tell you what,” Terrell said finally. “When these ‘people’ come to town, I’ll come meet you and them. I won’t commit to anything, but I’ll let them know that we’re friends. I’m pretty sure they’ll take care of you.”

  Maurice looked at the other dudes. “What do you think?” he said.

  “I think, screw that,” Anthony said. “Dude isn’t talking anything but a free meal every now and then.”

  “No, it could be more,” Felipe said. “He comes out with us, it tells people we’re tight. I think we can work with that.”

  “I do too,” Maurice said. “Being friends makes everything work, right?” He reached his hand across the table to Terrell.

  Terrell had never found the word friends quite so frightening. But he took Maurice’s hand.

  Terrell filled Danny in on what had happened the next day at lunch. Danny kept shaking his head in disgust. “Why would you agree to hang out with them at all?” he said. “Maurice clearly showed his hand when he brought up what happened in July.”

  Terrell popped a couple of French fries into his mouth and nodded. “Of course he did,” he said. “But I’m not really worried about that. You think any of the schools that are recruiting me will care that I smoked pot once?”

  “So why…?”

  Terrell smiled. “Bobby Kelleher.”

  “What?”

  “I think the story he’s trying to do is a good idea. And if the dudes can convince some of those sneaker reps or agents or the guys who do the dirty work for coaches that they’re the way to get to me, they’ll come running.”

  Danny shrugged. “They’ll come running if you call them. What do you need the dudes for?”

  “Because with me they’ll be more subtle about it. I’m sure the word is already out that I don’t want to be bought and paid for. So they’ll be careful. But if the dudes can convince guys that I’m in but that I want to keep a low profile, then we’ll find out what they’re offering.”

  Danny picked up the bottle of Coke he’d been drinking and drained it. “You know, for a dumb jock you’re pretty smart,” he said.

  “I need your help, though,” Terrell said.

  “What?”

  “I need you to be totally pissed off at me when I start hanging out with the dudes again. If you’re not, they may wonder if something’s up.”

  “Act pissed off at the dudes?” Danny said with a big smile. “I think I can do that.”

  After talking it over with Coach Wilcox, Terrell asked his mother if Coach Stephenson could come over to the house for a talk. When his mom asked what it was about, Terrell said, “I want to tell you both together.”

  Shortly after eight o’clock, the three of them sat down in the living room. Coach Stephenson looked about as tense as Terrell could ever remember seeing him. There was none of his usual joking or questions about practice. The early signing period would begin in exactly seven days.

  “I’ve given this a lot of thought,” Terrell said. “You guys were right about me taking those last two visits to Atlanta and Mass State. I learned a lot on both trips. If I had to sign today, I would sign with either Duke or Mass State.… ”

  “Terrell, you need to really think this through before you make a final decision,” Coach Stephenson said, breaking in—though not really, because Terrell had paused briefly to see if he would.

  “Yeah, Coach,” he said. “That’s what I was about to say. I think I need more time, and, really, I don’t have to sign early. I know that means I’ll have to deal with all the recruiting stuff during the season, but I’ve handled it for six months. I can handle it a little while longer. And I know all the coaches will understand that I don’t want to be pressured too much.”

  “Do you think Coach Todd and Coach K will be willing to wait?” his mom asked.

  “For Terrell, they’ll all wait,” Coach Stephenson said.

  “I think so,” Terrell agreed. “I mean, Coach Todd asked me not to sign early. And that made sense to me. That way I’ll be able to see what happens at all five schools with their seasons, and maybe see who signs where.”

  Coach Stephenson was nodding. “You’re doing the right thing, Terrell,” he said. “You need to take your time and gather as much information as you can.”

  “Barrett, don’t you think we have more than enough information already?” his mom said.

  “Sure we do,” Coach Stephenson said. “But if Terrell isn’t sure, there’s no reason to rush him.”

  His mother sighed. “It’s your decision, honey,” she said finally. “I’ll back you, no matter what.”

  Terrell was relieved to hear that. He knew his mom was still standing behind him. It was also pretty clear where Coach Stephenson was standing.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The next few weeks flew by for Terrell.

  There wasn’t a lot of free time. His weekdays were all pretty much the same: school, practice, dinner, homework, bed.

  The weekends weren’t a lot different. There was still homework, and there was practice on Saturday morning. On Friday nights, he satisfied his unofficial commitment to the dudes and spent time with them. He insisted on going to Nettie’s—in part, because he liked the pizza; in part, because Valerie Dove worked there. He and Danny had made a pact: Danny would ask Laurie Walters to the Thanksgiving dance and he would ask Valerie Dove.

  “If we both get shot down, we can stand in the corner by ourselves all night,” Danny had joked.

  “We won’t be alone,” Terrell had answered. “The dudes will hang out with us.”

  Fortunately, they didn’t have to test the theory. Laurie all but jumped up and down when Danny finally asked her after about five minutes of um-ing and uh-ing and trying to seem casual. “I thought I was going to have to ask you,” she said with a mischievous grin.

  Valerie Dove was another story. Terrell liked her not only because she was pretty and smart but also because she made it clear that his status as a basketball star didn’t mean anything to her. She was considered a shoo-in to be the class valedictorian and had applied early decision to Harvard. If anyone was awed, it was Terrell—not the other way around.

  He didn’t want to ask her in front of the dudes, so on the Saturday before Thanksgiving he and Danny and James Nix went to Nettie’s for a post-practice lunch. Laurie had told Danny that Valerie would be working. The opening game of the season was six days away; the dance, seven days away.

  As soon as they sat down, Danny noticed Valerie delivering a pizza to a table that was halfway to the men’s room. “Go ask,” he said. “Now.”

  “Now? I was thinking I’d ask on our way out,” Terrell said weakly.

  Danny just smirked. So did James, clearly enjoying seeing the guy who was so in control on the basketball court dealing with something he had almost no control over.

  Terrell got up and started walking slowly in the direction of the men’s room, hoping Valerie would finish refilling the iced tea before he got there.

  For once, he got lucky. She turned from the table almost at the moment he arrived. For just a split second, she smiled as if she was happy to see him. Terrell hadn’t seen her smile all that often, but when she did, her eyes sparkled. “So, it’s the BMOC,” she said. That was what she called him—Big Man on Campus. Often when she took their order she’d say, “What’ll it be, BMOC?”

  Terrell wasn’t going to be intimidated today. He’d seen the smile, even if only for an instant. “Yup, it’s me,” he said. “You know we start the season on Friday night.”

  “Oh, really?” she said.

  “Why don’t you come?” he said.

  “Working,” she answered. “You guys are supposed to kill Burlington anyway.”

/>   Aha! She was paying attention to basketball.

  Someone was waving from a booth to get Valerie’s attention.

  “You working Saturday too?” he asked quickly.

  “Lunch,” she said.

  “Well, then, why don’t you go to the dance with me Saturday night?”

  He said it so fast that it came out more like, whydontyougotothedancewithmeSaturdaynight?

  She stared up at him for a second as if she wasn’t sure what he had said. He wasn’t 100 percent sure, either.

  Then she raised one eyebrow. “You know how to dance?” she said.

  “A little,” he answered.

  She smiled, showing the dimples again. “Guess I’ll have to teach you, then. Can’t have the BMOC tripping over his big feet and getting hurt.”

  Terrell wanted to let out a whoop. Instead, he just smiled—dopily, no doubt. The guy in the booth was calling now, getting impatient.

  “We’ll talk later,” she said.

  He nodded, but she was gone, heading for the booth. No matter. He’d scored. He could return to the table with his head up.

  “Well?” James said as he sat down.

  “She said yes,” Danny said before he could answer. “Just look at his face.”

  “She’s gonna teach me how to dance,” Terrell said, knowing he still had the dopey smile on his face.

  “I’d buy a ticket to see that,” Danny said.

  Valerie’s prediction for the Minutemen’s season-opening game proved accurate. Terrell had scored 37 points and dunked five times before Coach Wilcox took him out with four minutes left. Danny had 16 points and 16 assists, and James Nix, in his varsity debut, had 18 points and 10 rebounds. The final score was 92–47.

  Before heading for the locker room, Terrell scanned the crowd in the stands for his mom. She never yelled or cheered during games, but she was always there. He spotted her halfway up on the home side. As she did after every game, she put her hand on her heart and then pointed to him and smiled. He nodded and waved and headed for the showers.

  The lobby was a mob scene after games and Terrell’s mom hated crowds, so she wouldn’t wait. Mrs. Jamerson also knew Terrell really wanted to go out with his friends after games, so she got a ride home with a neighbor and left the car for Terrell.