Foul Trouble

by John Feinstein

  “Davis is a center,” Danny said.

  “True. But he was national player of the year, won a national title, and was the number one pick in the NBA draft after his freshman year. Jordan’s going to announce for Kentucky because Calipari is the best at dealing with one-and-done players.”

  “Is Coach Calipari paying him?”

  Kelleher shook his head. “Absolutely not. No smart coach ever does that. Oh, and your friend Alex Mayer is locked up for Mass State.”

  “Have you talked to Omar recently?” Terrell asked.

  This seemed off-point to Danny, but Kelleher just nodded. “He’s at home, still rehabbing. His goal is to walk again someday. He told me he wants to write a book about how quickly your friends disappear when you can’t play anymore.”

  Terrell snorted. “I could add a chapter.”

  Kelleher nodded. “True enough.” Then he plowed on. “Terrell, if my sources have it right—which I’m pretty sure they do—there are two schools putting together deals for you.”

  “Two?” Terrell said. “I thought it was just Atlanta.… ”

  “Nope,” Kelleher said. “It’s Mass State too. They just use a different M.O. Coach Todd isn’t involved, but Brickley takes care of things for him. That’s apparently how they landed Mayer.”

  “I never met anyone from Brickley when I was there,” Terrell said, puzzled. “In fact, I don’t remember seeing anyone from Brickley all season.”

  “Who funds Billy Tommasino’s camp? They’ve had other guys at your last few games. Because they’re more established than Athena, they can afford to be more subtle. Plus, Mass State tries to recruit guys on the up-and-up if they can. Brickley gets involved only when it’s absolutely necessary. That’s what happened with Mayer. He was ready to go to Kentucky until Brickley upped the bid.”

  Danny shook his head. “If you’d asked me to name one kid I thought wasn’t on the take last summer, it was Alex.”

  “He wasn’t then. But his family got involved. Or, more accurately, the people recruiting got his family involved. And his coach. He’s going to be an assistant at Mass State next season.”

  Danny sat back in his chair and whistled. “Well, bad news for anyone recruiting Terrell. They’re not going to get to him by offering his coach a job.”

  “No,” Kelleher said. “Not his coach.”

  They both looked at him quizzically.

  “Okay, look. The Mass State people know you like Coach Todd. Plus, it’s a good school. They’re calling themselves Duke North. Anyway, they think they have a good shot at you. But Brickley wants to be sure. They’ve already made an offer for you that’s pretty impressive.”

  “An offer?” Terrell said. “What are you talking about?”

  Kelleher held up his hand. “Hang on. Let me finish.

  “There’s nothing subtle about Atlanta, as you know. Your friend Maurice has been on the payroll all season just to keep an eye on you, although they cut him off after you got hurt.”

  “Can’t imagine why,” Danny said.

  “Yeah, well. They started paying again when Terrell started playing again. Plus, I hear he began dropping hints about going public if they didn’t. In the end, he might be their biggest mistake because he’s even less trustworthy than the rest of them.

  “Stan Montana and Athena are in the middle of the Atlanta offer, which I know will shock you. But that guy you met on the plane, Glenn Hitchcock? At least as important. Athena has lots of money and increasing clout, but no more than Brickley. Hitchcock can take Athena’s money and get you into all sorts of initial public offerings through his company. You can be wealthy before you finish college without any money actually touching your hands.

  “That’s what they’re going to propose to you. Of course, if you turn it down, they’ll deny ever knowing you.”

  “And if I don’t turn it down?” Terrell said.

  “Then you’ll be rich,” Kelleher said. “At least for a while.”

  Danny waited for Terrell to tell Kelleher that none of it mattered because he wasn’t going to be bought.

  “Okay, but what, exactly, are they going to offer?” Terrell finally said.

  “You really want to know?” Kelleher said, a rare look of surprise crossing his face.

  “Yes,” Terrell said. “I do.”

  Kelleher looked at Danny and sighed.

  “I want to be prepared…,” Terrell said, though, in truth, he didn’t know what he wanted.

  Kelleher took out a notebook and said, “Okay, here’s what I’ve got.

  “You go to Mass State, Brickley will give you a five-year contract the day you turn pro, with a million dollars a year guaranteed; a two-million signing bonus up front; and incentive clauses, some while you’re in college, like getting to the Final Four, being conference player of the year, national freshman of the year, or player of the year. Then there are more incentives in the pros: all-rookie team, all-star team, points-per-game, rebounds. Plus, you’ll ‘work’ Billy Tommasino’s camp this summer, which means you’ll go there, play pickup basketball, and get paid about ten thousand a day. They also have a ‘working relationship,’ as it’s called, with Fox. If you want it, you get a reality show as a rookie, and that can be worth huge money.”

  “A reality show?” Danny said. “Seriously?”

  Terrell laughed. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “No more ridiculous than the Kardashians…I’m just telling you what’s there. Want more?”

  “Sure.”

  “The Atlanta deal has more to it because they know you don’t really want to go there. The Athena money is probably close to double the Brickley money. What’s more, they’re going to name a sneaker for you. They want to call it the Terrell Jam shoe. There’s also that Hitchcock guy getting you into IPOs and increasing your initial stake. And if you sign something now, committing to Paul Judson being your agent, you’ll get another couple million up front from his agency when you turn pro. They’re going to have a camp of their own in Atlanta next summer, and you’ll work there, just like with the Brickley deal.”

  Finally, Bobby took a breath. Then he added, “They’re also creating a job for Barrett Stephenson.”

  Danny had been doing his best to listen and not interrupt, but now he couldn’t help it. “I knew he was in on this. Man. Unbelievable.”

  Kelleher held up a hand. “There’s one other thing that’s pretty significant.”

  “What?” Terrell asked, his mind reeling.

  “Your mom gets a house. Nothing outrageous—that would be too obvious. But if she moves to Atlanta with Stephenson, they’ll get something nice in Buckhead. If she stays in Lexington, they’ll set her up in a small house. Or if she wants to move a little farther out from Boston, something with some land.”

  Danny had known all along that Terrell’s super friends were willing to do a lot to get him on their team, but he was staggered by how much a lot turned out to be. “But…,” he said finally. “But—no offense, Terrell—is he worth this much? What if he does get hurt? Or doesn’t become a superstar in the NBA?”

  “If he gets hurt before all of this kicks in, they pay off a flat fee—I think it’s a million for Mass State and Brickley and two million for Atlanta and Athena. In either case, your mom keeps the house. If he turns out to be a lousy player, or not a great player, even…well, it’s their loss, and they move on to the next guy,” Kelleher said. “Danny, for these people, this is pocket change. It’s a risk/reward deal, certainly. They all are. But if they get Terrell locked up now and he takes off, he’s worth much, much more than what they’re paying.”

  “Why not just wait until I turn pro, when doing all of this isn’t against any rules?” Terrell said. “Why risk getting caught?”

  Kelleher smiled. “That’s a question for you, Terrell. What’s their risk, really? The NCAA can’t void any contracts. There’s some risk for Judson, because he could get decertified as an agent by the NBA. But this stuff happens all the time, and agents get a
round it. Atlanta and Mass State will claim they knew nothing and get off with an NCAA wrist slap. The only one who gets in trouble is you. And then only if you get caught while you’re still a student. If it comes out after you’ve gone pro, it would be a scandal and that could damage your reputation…but by how much is hard to know. Still, they’ll encourage you to be one-and-done. Sooner you’re in the pros, less risk for everyone—except your college coach. The only question for him will be ‘Can he play?’ It always is.”

  “What if I don’t want to do it?” he said. “What if I say I want to go to Duke or UCLA—or even Mass State—without any money? What if I just say no?”

  Kelleher stood up because it was time for all of them to get going. “That’s what I hope you’ll do, Terrell,” Kelleher said. “I honestly think it’s the best thing for you in the long term, even if it doesn’t look that way right now.”

  Terrell sighed. “I should talk it over with my mom,” he said. “And I’d like to talk with Coach Stephenson.… ”

  Danny snorted. “I have a few things I’d like to say to him too.” But he wasn’t at all sure that they were the same things Terrell had in mind.

  Danny and Terrell talked it over on the walk back to the hotel and decided that three o’clock in the afternoon with a state semifinal to play in four hours was not the time to make any decisions.

  Danny was concerned that Terrell might not be able to focus on the game that night.

  He needn’t have worried.

  Terrell played as if he was on some kind of a mission, and that wasn’t good for Gloucester. He made his first six shots, two of them threes, and had 12 rebounds by halftime. Gloucester managed to hang around for a quarter, trailing just 23–20, but it was 47–37 by halftime, and the lead got to be as much as 20 before the third quarter was over. Lexington cruised to an 81–66 win. Terrell finished with 33 points and 18 rebounds. Danny didn’t shoot much, scoring just six points, but he had 14 assists, and James Nix added 23 points.

  The state high school association had set up a “family reception area,” where the players could go after the game. It was actually a storage area for things like the Zamboni machine, which had been cleared out for the weekend. Blue curtains had been hung to dress up the walls and to section off an area for food, another that had couches and chairs and TV sets, and another where there was a bar.

  Naturally, the area was open to a lot more people than just family members. It was also open to sponsors—which meant all the major shoe companies—and their guests. That pretty much meant that anyone with a ticket could get into the “restricted” area.

  The place was packed when Danny, Terrell, and James Nix walked in after their win. They found Terrell’s mom looking far more dressed up than Danny could ever remember seeing her, standing in the crowded bar area with Coach Stephenson. There was no sign of Valerie or Laurie, but super friends were everywhere.

  “Where are Valerie and Laurie?” Terrell said about a half second before Danny could get the question out.

  “In the next room, eating,” Coach Stephenson answered. “Great playing, you guys. Game was never in doubt.” Danny was having serious trouble not glaring at Coach Stephenson, whom he had decided to blame for Terrell’s sudden wavering. Terrell’s mom gave her son a hug and a kiss and then did the same for Danny.

  “I’m so proud of you boys,” she said just as Stan Montana, Paul Judson, and Judson’s boss, Donald what’s-his-name the Third, magically appeared at her elbow.

  “We’re proud of you too,” Judson said, giving Terrell a warm handshake, as did Donald the Third. Montana followed with a hug that clearly made Terrell want to scream.

  “Paul, Donald, Stan, you’ve met Danny, haven’t you?” Mrs. Jamerson, always polite, said.

  “Of course,” Judson said, offering his hand. “Danny’s done a nice job of feeding off Terrell the last two years.”

  Reluctantly, Danny shook hands with all three of them. It was Terrell who couldn’t resist a jab. “If you knew anything about basketball, Mr. Judson, you’d know that it’s Danny who’s been feeding me,” he said, his voice ice-cold.

  “Terrell!” Mrs. Jamerson said.

  “Sorry, Mom, but these two have been putting Danny down since last summer,” Terrell said. “I’m kind of tired of it.”

  “Hey, Terrell, I think it’s cool that you stand up for your pal,” Montana said. “Your unselfishness is part of what makes you the player you are.”

  Danny thought he might throw up—preferably on Montana.

  Clearly, Terrell wasn’t going to take a deal from these guys because he liked any of them.

  That didn’t mean he wouldn’t take it.

  THIRTY-TWO

  As Terrell and Danny were being oozed on by super friends, Central High School was wrapping up their slot in the championship game. Wilson Walton scored 36 points and also grabbed 24 rebounds in Central’s win over Barnstable. Like Lexington, Central ended any notion of an upset early, taking a 24–11 lead at the end of the first quarter and never looking back, winning by a final score of 79–47.

  Cinderella had been sent home from the ball, and now the two best teams in the state would play for the title for the second year in a row. Terrell was determined to come away the winner this time.

  “Walton’s going to be a handful,” Coach Wilcox said at breakfast the next morning. “The key is going to be stopping the other four guys. He’s going to get his.”

  Terrell, Danny, and Coach Wilcox were sitting in the dining area of the Marriott a few minutes past eight.

  “I’ll keep him under control, Coach,” Terrell said. “I’m a better player now than I was a year ago.”

  “I know you are, Terrell,” Coach Wilcox said. “But you aren’t going to guard him. We’re going to play zone, and you’re going to work the opposite side of the court from him.”

  “But—”

  Coach Wilcox held his hand up. “I watched Central play last night. You didn’t. We need you all thirty-two minutes tomorrow.”

  “He’s right, Terrell,” said Danny, who hadn’t been at all surprised when his father brought up playing zone. “The only way they beat us last year was because you fouled out. Wilson will score a lot, but we’ll outscore him. And if he tries to guard you, then you’ll foul him out.”

  Terrell nodded. Periodically throughout the season the team had switched to zone, specifically so they would be familiar with it if they needed to play it. It wasn’t as if they would be doing something they were clueless about.

  “Okay, I get it,” he said. “I guess we’ll walk through it when we practice today.” They were scheduled to bus to Harvard that afternoon to practice after they had gone sightseeing and eaten lunch.

  “That’s exactly what we’ll do,” Coach Wilcox said. “Now, tell me why you guys wanted to have breakfast with me. I figured you’d sleep in until it was time for our walk on the Freedom Trail.”

  Terrell and Danny looked at each other. “You tell him,” Danny said. “It’s your story and your life, not mine.”

  Terrell nodded. He proceeded to walk Coach Wilcox through everything Bobby Kelleher had told them and about the way Stan Montana, Donald Johnston the Third, and Paul Judson had been stuck to his mother like Velcro. Danny filled in a couple of details that he had forgotten.

  Coach Wilcox sighed, picked up his coffee mug, and took a long sip. “Boy, I wish I had an easy answer for you,” he said. “Those are bigger figures than I imagined. Though I doubt they expected you and your mom to be this tough to convince—especially once they got Barrett on their side.”

  “It is a lot of money,” Terrell said. “I know it’s easy to say, ‘It’ll be there after college,’ but I can’t be sure, can I? I could get hurt. Or the next level might be tougher. It happens, right?”

  “Yes, it does,” Coach Wilcox said, draining his coffee. “If I’m being totally honest with you, Terrell, the only thing I’m really sure of is that if you decide to take the money, you’ll always have regrets.
You know who these guys are. I know money is nice, and these numbers are almost incomprehensible. But it isn’t everything.”

  “Unless you’ve never had it.”

  He nodded. “There’s truth in that. Let me ask you: Do you think LeBron James is any happier day to day than you are? I don’t. Not really. So maybe think about what will really make you happy.”

  “I think I need to talk to my mom.”

  “I think you do, too.”

  The whole team walked the Freedom Trail around many of Boston’s historic sites. Terrell was struck again by how close together all the famous sites were. He and his mom had done the Trail when they first moved to the area the previous year—Boston was a history lover’s dream city. Amazingly, Danny hadn’t ever done this before. He’d lived near the city all his life but still hadn’t seen most of it. They finished at the Old North Church, stopped to eat at the various Quincy Market eateries, and then had an hour to rest before the bus would take them over to Harvard for their two o’clock practice.

  Terrell was surprised when the bus didn’t cross the Charles River into Cambridge.

  “The athletic facilities are actually in Boston,” Danny said when Terrell asked him what the deal was. “Everyone walks across the bridge from campus to practice every day.”

  “Can’t that get cold in the winter?”

  “Very,” Danny said. “But it’s still kind of neat.”

  No question, Terrell thought. He’s sold on Harvard.

  The bus went through a back gate and took them past the ancient football stadium and then wound past various athletic buildings until it parked near the back door of Lavietes Pavilion. Danny had explained on the way over that Lavietes was the second oldest college basketball arena in the country, behind only Fordham’s Rose Hill Gym.

  As they walked to the front door, a familiar figure was waiting: Harvard Coach Tommy Amaker. Terrell was a little surprised to see Coach Amaker, because he knew this was a recruiting dead period. As if reading his mind, Amaker explained, “I can’t come to see you guys, so I thought I’d invite you to come see me,” he said, smiling. “If you’re on campus and I didn’t pay for you to get here, I’m not breaking any rules.”