Foul Trouble

by John Feinstein

  “We really appreciate the invite, Tommy,” Coach Wilcox said.

  “There are a couple other guys here who want to say hello,” Coach Amaker said. Seeing what was probably a terrified look on Terrell’s face, Amaker laughed. “Don’t panic, Terrell. No agents, no shoe salesmen. Just Frank Sullivan and Tom Konchalski. They got to town today and wanted to swing by and say hello to your coach.”

  Terrell heard himself breathe a sigh of relief, a sign of how tense he was feeling. They walked inside. The old gym had clearly been spruced up in recent years. The floor gleamed and the bleachers looked like they’d been freshly painted. Harvard had won the Ivy League title for a second straight season and was getting ready to play in a second straight NCAA tournament the following week. Clearly, their success had resulted in an upgrade of the facilities.

  Konchalski and Sullivan were sitting on folding chairs under one basket. The two men stood up to greet Coach Wilcox and also warmly welcomed Danny and Terrell, who stopped to say hello while everyone else was directed to the locker room by Amaker.

  “Boy, have you two had a ride since last summer,” Sullivan said in greeting.

  “Yes, but they’re right where they want to be right now,” Konchalski said in his very proper and polite way. “You boys have really played wonderfully this past month.”

  “Well, we’re just glad to be playing this weekend,” Coach Wilcox said.

  “Spoken like a true coach,” Konchalski said. “And in this case, you’re absolutely right.”

  They made small talk for a couple of minutes before Coach Wilcox suggested that Terrell and Danny get changed for practice. Before they left, Terrell made a snap decision. “Coach, before we leave today, do you think it would be okay for me to talk to Mr. Konchalski for a couple of minutes?”

  “Absolutely,” Coach Wilcox said. “I think that’s a good idea, as long as you’re okay with it, Tom.”

  “I’d be delighted,” Konchalski said. “Anything I can do to help.”

  For once, Terrell actually believed that.

  They didn’t practice very long or very hard. Most of the time was spent going over the offensive sets that Central would be running and working on their zone defense. When Coach Wilcox told the players to spend ten minutes of practice shooting free throws, he motioned Terrell over. “Terrell, you can pass on the free throws. Go spend a couple of minutes with Mr. Konchalski.”

  Terrell grabbed a towel and walked over to where Konchalski was sitting with Coach Amaker. Frank Sullivan had left a few minutes earlier. Seeing Terrell coming, Coach Amaker stood up. “Take my seat, Terrell,” he said.

  “You sure, Coach?” Terrell said. “We can go someplace else to talk.”

  Amaker shook his head. “No, no. I’ve got to go put together a practice plan. We practice at five today because some of our guys have late labs on Friday.”

  “Does Danny know about late labs?” Terrell said, grinning.

  Amaker looked around as if he’d just been caught at something. “Did I say labs?” he said with a grin. “I meant crabs. Friday is crab day in our cafeteria.”

  Terrell laughed. “I promise to keep your secret.”

  “If you come to Harvard,” Amaker said, “I’ll take your labs for you.”

  “How about Latin?” Terrell said.

  “Can’t help you there,” Amaker said. “I struggled with English in college. Some people thought I should claim it as part of my foreign language requirement.”

  He shook Terrell’s hand, patted him on the back, and said, “Seriously, Terrell, good luck. You listen to Coach Wilcox and Mr. Konchalski and you’ll be just fine.”

  He waved and headed off. Terrell sat down. “So, Mr. Konchalski, am I going to be fine? Has Coach Wilcox filled you in?”

  “The basic story, yes. But I’d like to hear it from you. Tell me what you think your choices are.… ”

  Terrell took a deep breath and began.

  Twenty minutes later, as his teammates were heading for the bus, Terrell stood up and shook hands with Konchalski. “Thanks for listening, sir.”

  “Terrell,” Mr. Konchalski said, “I feel confident that you’ll make the right choice.”

  “I just wish I knew for sure what the right choice is. I think I know, but I’m not a hundred percent sure.”

  “If you were one hundred percent sure,” Konchalski said, “you wouldn’t be human.”

  Danny had lingered near the door to wait for him. “So what do you think?” he asked.

  “I think he is the only honest man in the gym,” Terrell said. “I think I know what I need to do now.”

  “What is it?”

  Terrell smiled. “Make sure we win this game.”

  Danny rolled his eyes. “Okay, Mr. Mysterious. Just promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That after we win tomorrow, you won’t make any final decision without telling me first.”

  “Deal,” Terrell said. “By the way, I’m also planning to win Sunday against the team from Connecticut.”

  “Jeez, I almost forgot about the game with Connecticut,” Danny said.

  “Well, remember it. We could be playing against our old pal Jay Swanson. His team is in the final down there.”

  “How do you know that?” Danny asked.

  “Mr. Konchalski told me. He said he thinks we’ll beat Central but that Norwalk will be tough. He thinks they’ll win their championship game for sure.”

  Danny shrugged. “If we beat Central, I don’t care that much what happens against Norwalk.”

  “You want to lose to Jay Swanson?”

  “Okay,” Danny conceded. “I care.”

  Central High’s Wilson Walton was an excellent player, but his shooting range didn’t go much beyond five feet from the basket. Which explained why he hadn’t been in the elite group of recruits along with Terrell, Michael Jordan, Alex Mayer, and Jay Swanson.

  Coach Wilcox’s strategy to play zone defense worked perfectly. Central’s guards kept trying three-point shots, and they kept clanging off the rim. As a team, Central shot five-for-twenty-seven for the game from beyond the arc. Danny was five-for-eight by himself. Plus, Walton had no chance to guard Terrell. He picked up two quick fouls before Central decided to collapse on Terrell every chance it got. Lexington’s outside shooters, led by Danny and James Nix, made fourteen of twenty-eight from long range, and that was the difference in the game. Alan Inwood even hit two three-pointers. Lexington led by double digits the entire second half, and the final score was 79–64.

  It all felt slightly anticlimactic to Terrell. He had waited a year to play this game again, and he was thrilled to win it, especially considering the fact that a month earlier he had wondered if he’d be playing at all. He loved seeing Coach Wilcox being handed the state championship trophy, and he was very happy to be named MVP. But he kept hearing an old song his mother liked by Peggy Lee in his head: “Is That All There Is?”

  He found he was happy to have one more game to play the next afternoon. Danny had told him that Norwalk had also won, so they would get to face Swanson one more time. If Tom Konchalski’s assessment of Jay’s team was right, then the buzz Terrell wanted from a down-to-the-wire final high school game could still happen.

  There was just one issue: All the super friends and his mom had decided that the state championship game was the big one. They’d planned a party for that night.

  “You’re coming,” he told Danny in the locker room. “You and Laurie.”

  “No way,” Danny said. “You do not want me there with those people.”

  “Come on, man, you have to protect me. They’re going to try to convince me to sign.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes! They didn’t all come to Boston for the weekend to cheer me on. And tomorrow after the game, we’re all going home. This is it for them. I know it.”

  Danny sighed. “Okay, we’ll come. But I’m bringing one more person with me too.”

  “Who?”
r />   “Bobby Kelleher. If they want to make some kind of move, let them do it in front of a reporter.”

  Terrell smiled. “Tell him to bring a notebook,” he said.

  “I’m going to tell him,” Danny said, “to bring a tape recorder.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  Danny and Terrell were both greeted with huge hugs of congratulations from Valerie and Laurie back at the Marriott Long Wharf. Valerie made a big deal about looking at Terrell’s MVP trophy. “This is something you’ll keep forever,” she said. “You should be proud. You should both be proud.”

  Danny knew she was trying to keep Terrell from worrying too much about what was to come that night. He had pulled Laurie aside to tell her that their plans to go to dinner at Legal Seafood had to be put on hold. “I have to do this for Terrell,” he said. “He thinks it’s going to be a rough night.”

  Laurie nodded. “So does Valerie,” she said. “I understand.”

  They settled for a private walk to the end of Long Wharf, where they sat looking out at the harbor for a while. But Terrell’s dilemma followed them.

  “What do you think Terrell will do?” Laurie asked. “I mean, it’s so much money, and the way Valerie explains it, the risks are low.”

  “Yeah, but think what he’s risking. If he’s caught while he’s playing in college, he’d lose his eligibility. If he’s caught after that…You think having your reputation ruined wouldn’t hurt?” Danny said. “Some people wouldn’t care, but I think Terrell would.” He leaned forward and looked her in the eye. “Valerie doesn’t think he should do it, does she?”

  Laurie looked straight down at the ground.

  “Laurie?”

  “No, she doesn’t think he should do it,” she said. “But she wants him to decide for himself. She’s afraid that if she tells him not to do it, and then he doesn’t because of her and something goes wrong, that it could affect their long-term relationship.”

  “They’re eighteen,” Danny said. “No one should be thinking about a long-term relationship at eighteen.”

  “Really?” she said sharply, and Danny realized he’d made a mistake.

  “Well, you know what I mean,” he said. “You kind of go one step at a time. See where life takes you. So much will change during college, right?”

  She was looking out at the water, and Danny couldn’t tell if her eyes were glistening because of the wind or for another reason. “Uh-huh,” she said. “Sure. That makes sense. Let’s go back inside. I’m getting cold.”

  So was Danny, and it had nothing to do with the wind. He sighed. It was going to be a long night.

  “Terrell, I thought you understood this was…well, family only.”

  Danny wasn’t stunned by Barrett Stephenson’s greeting when he, Laurie, Terrell, and Valerie walked in the door of the hotel suite that someone—Terrell wasn’t sure who—had rented for the evening. Terrell had texted him shortly after he and Laurie had walked back into the hotel and said that he had “issues” and could he please hold Bobby Kelleher off—at least for a while. Danny had called Kelleher and suggested he show up closer to eight.

  “I was going to come late anyway,” Kelleher said. “You guys walk in with me in tow, no one is going to be happy.”

  Still, even though Danny hadn’t expected anyone blowing kisses when he walked in, he was a little bit surprised that Coach Stephenson was so blunt so fast.

  Terrell was not only prepared but appeared to be ready to dig in for a fight. “ ‘Family only’?” he said. “I see a lot of people here I don’t even like very much.… Danny’s like a brother to me—you know that. He can leave if you want, but I’ll be leaving with him.”

  “Terrell, take it easy,” Valerie said. “We’re here to have a good time tonight, remember?”

  Stephenson recovered quickly. “Danny, I’m sorry,” he said. “We just didn’t expect you. Thought you’d be with your dad tonight. Come on in—of course. You too, Laurie. We’re thrilled to have you here with us.”

  Danny resisted the urge to say anything. As Terrell and Valerie headed for Mrs. Jamerson, he took Laurie’s arm and steered her in the direction of a bar set up in the corner of the room.

  “Danny, we have to go say hello,” Laurie hissed.

  “I know,” he said. “I just need a minute. I have to get the lay of the land—or the people. We’ll get drinks for Terrell and Valerie and bring them with us so we don’t look rude.”

  She didn’t argue. They ordered three Cokes and a Sprite. While the bartender was pouring, Danny looked around the room. The gang was all here: Stan Montana from Athena and David Forcier the money manager were standing on either side of Mrs. Jamerson, with Paul Judson just off her shoulder. Creepy Donald Johnston the Third was right next to him. Hitchcock, the guy who had “accidentally” run into Danny and Terrell on the flight to Atlanta, was a few feet away, with someone else in a suit. Billy Tommasino was there, and so was Ray Leach—whom they hadn’t seen since the summer. Everyone, Danny noticed, was in a suit. The dudes were there too. Maurice had apparently worked his way in this far. He and the others were hanging around the buffet table. Chao, he noticed, was wearing a sports coat but with his “Yao Rules” T-shirt underneath. Danny couldn’t help but smile.

  There were also a couple of older men whom Danny didn’t recognize. One wore a black suit with a garish red tie and a red shirt. When he hugged both Terrell and Valerie, Danny guessed he was the obnoxious university president Terrell had told him about.

  “They’ve brought out all the big guns,” Danny whispered as they picked up their drinks.

  “They look kind of scary,” Laurie said.

  Danny nodded. “See the guy in the black and the red? I’m betting that’s the president of the University of Atlanta.”

  “Who’s the other old guy?”

  “The Mass State president?” Danny said. “Let’s go over and find out.”

  They walked in the direction of the circle of people surrounding Terrell, Valerie, and Terrell’s mom. Several of them looked in their direction but said nothing. It was Mrs. Jamerson who finally acknowledged their presence. “Danny!” she said. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad you came.”

  She put out her arms so Danny could lean down and give her a hug. She did the same for Laurie and then introduced them to the crowd. The guy in black and red was, indeed, Dr. Wayne Haskell, the president of the University of Atlanta. He politely introduced Danny and Laurie to “my competition, the honorable Dr. James McPherson, Mass State University.” The two presidents were also the only ones who made any attempt to talk to Danny and Laurie.

  “Well, I can see you boys certainly have excellent taste in girls,” Haskell said, looking Laurie up and down in a way that made Danny want to slug him. “Young lady, you’re so pretty, you’d fit right in on our campus.”

  “Ours too,” McPherson quickly put in.

  “Gee, too bad it’s too late to apply,” said Laurie with a fake smile. “I guess I’ll have to go to a school that likes me for my GPA.”

  Haskell raised an eyebrow. “Beauty and brains. Formidable. Good luck, Mr. Wilcox—I suspect you’ll need it.”

  Danny didn’t know what to say, but that was fine, Laurie seemed to be on a roll.

  “Oh, Danny doesn’t need luck. He’s got brains and talent.” Laurie slipped her arm through his. “He’s on his way to Harvard.”

  “Ah, Harvard,” Haskell said without missing a beat. “The U of A of the Northeast.” He turned his back on them without waiting for a response.

  McPherson coughed, smiled, and followed Haskell as if he needed looking after.

  Danny looked at Laurie with fresh eyes. “Wow. That was—”

  “—rude,” finished Laurie. “But really satisfying.” She smiled sheepishly and squeezed his arm. “You’re a bad influence on me.”

  Danny laughed. But then he got serious again. “So, you still want Terrell to throw in with these guys?” Danny asked. “You think all the money in the world would make it worth it
?”

  “He’ll never see either of those guys again after tonight,” Laurie said.

  “I certainly hope you’re right about that,” Danny said.

  He looked around for Terrell, but he was gone. So was his mom. Stan Montana, Judson, and Hitchcock were also missing. Billy Tommasino was talking to Valerie, but Danny thought he had a pained look on his face.

  “Where did Terrell go?” Danny asked Valerie, pulling her away from Tommasino.

  “Into the bedroom,” Valerie said. “Danny, you have to give him some space. He has to figure this out himself.”

  “Do you think he will?” Danny asked.

  “I have faith in him,” she said. But she didn’t sound as sure as Danny would have liked.

  “Well…It’s time to make some decisions, yes?” Paul Judson said. “We’ve all been dancing around this for eight months.”

  It was clear to Terrell that this was Judson’s meeting—though why wasn’t quite so clear. Judson was standing by the window, which had a panoramic view of Boston Harbor. The suite’s bedroom was large enough to hold a table and chairs, and there was a comfortable armchair where Barrett Stephenson had guided his mom. Terrell sat at the table. Everyone else—Coach Stephenson, Stan Montana, Glenn Hitchcock, and Donald Johnston the Third—was standing. Apparently, college presidents didn’t attend meetings like this one.

  “Mrs. Jamerson—and Terrell—the men in this room, along with whichever coach you choose, will be your team for, we hope, a long, long time. You both know I have a working relationship with Billy Tommasino, but right now I’m here just for you—a neutral party to help guide you. You really have two decisions to make here: Which college you want to play for and which sneaker company you would like to represent. I won’t come into the picture officially until later.”

  “So you don’t put yourself at risk,” Terrell heard his mom say.

  Judson smiled at her, said nothing in response, and went on. “We actually did a coin flip before you got here, and it was determined that Atlanta and Athena would have the first shot,” he said. “After I present everything to you with Stan and Glenn here, they’ll leave and Billy Tommasino and David Forcier will come in. Obviously, if you choose Athena, that will mean Atlanta. If you choose Brickley, it will be Mass State.”