The Sixth Man

by John Feinstein

  Max begged off the Friday-night party, telling Alex, Jonas, and Christine to let everyone know he had a bad sore throat. Alex knew that excuse would work—once.

  The four of them met for lunch again on Saturday. They talked about the game and the week; and it was Jonas who finally asked Max if he had made any decisions about coming out.

  “I don’t know. I talked to both my parents—separately—about it this week. My mom says I should do whatever feels right. Which is nice, but not much help. My dad was cooler about it than I expected, but he seems to think as long as everything is going well here, why rock the boat? He’s got a point, I guess.”

  Alex actually felt a pang of jealousy that Max could have a conversation like that with his father. He and his dad hadn’t spoken—unless brief texts counted—since the Christmas disaster. His dad had left a voice mail after the Bryn Mawr win, and Molly had told Alex he’d tried to call her on several occasions.

  “I just can’t talk to him about it yet,” she’d said, sounding very grown-up and very sad. Alex felt pretty much the same way.

  “Okay,” Christine said, bringing Alex back to the here and now. “But how do you feel about it, Max? What is your gut telling you?”

  Max laughed. “Nothing,” he said. “Everything. Part of me wants to do it and move on. Another part of me says my dad is right. Things are going well. Maybe I should keep quiet and just play.”

  He looked at the three of them, clearly seeking their thoughts.

  Alex looked at Jonas, who just shrugged as if to say, You take this one.

  “Look, Max, I’m not in your shoes,” Alex said. “So if you think I’m out of line in any way, just tell me.”

  “No,” Max said. “I’d really like to know what you think.”

  “I think we’re playing really well right now. With you here, we’re a real team. We’re three and oh in the conference, and we beat Bryn Mawr, who was picked to finish second. I’d hate to mess up that momentum….”

  “So you think I should wait,” Max said.

  Alex nodded, then shook his head. “No. I’m being selfish. I want you to do whatever you think is best for you,” he said. “This is your life, and you’re the one who’s going to have to deal with it—whatever ‘it’ happens to be.”

  Max thought a moment. “Actually, you’re wrong,” he said. “This is part of your life too. And Jonas’s. It will affect everyone on the team. Because it is going to be a big story—I know that. And there are going to be some guys on the team who will be upset—I know that too.”

  “You shouldn’t worry about those guys—” Jonas began.

  “Yeah, but I do,” Max said. “I don’t want this to divide the team….”

  “The team’s already divided,” said Christine, who had been surprisingly quiet. “This will just give them something else to focus on. Some people won’t care at all. Some will have mixed emotions but will stay quiet. And some will say stupid things like, ‘I don’t want him in the shower room.’ ”

  Max smiled. “I’ve heard that one before about other guys,” he said. “And they were even talking about it on the news after Jason Collins and Michael Sam came out. Why do people assume that gay people can’t control themselves and straight people can?

  “But that’s the least of it, really,” he added. “I’ve been reading a lot of the coverage from when other athletes came out….Some of it is inspiring, and some of it is pretty ugly.

  “The point is, you’re right, Alex; this is bound to affect the team. And I like winning too. I can wait.”

  “Are you sure?” Christine asked. “If you keep playing well and the team keeps winning, the Max mania is only going to grow.”

  “Let’s see how it goes,” Max said. “For now, let’s just play basketball.”

  The next couple weeks were the most enjoyable Alex could remember since the midseason stretch during football, when Matt Gordon had been hurt and Alex had been the starting quarterback and the team was winning easily.

  They stretched their record in the conference to 7–0, with three easy wins and one narrow escape. The escape came at King of Prussia on the last Friday in January. The Lions trailed 57–52 after three quarters, largely because Steve Holder had gotten into foul trouble and because Max had lost his temper.

  Max had gone to the party the previous Friday night, with Christine acting as his bodyguard. They figured if Christine hung out with Max a lot that people might get the wrong idea and give Max some space. They figured wrong.

  “Hope Alexander did everything but head butt me to get to him,” Christine reported later. “You’d think by now she’d get the hint he’s not interested.”

  “I don’t think Hope takes hints,” Alex said.

  “Or no for an answer,” Jonas added.

  Max survived the night, but he didn’t come to lunch the next day at Stark’s. And it was pretty clear that he was uptight at practice on Sunday. He didn’t hang out at all when practice was over, dressing fast and leaving the locker room with a quick “See you guys tomorrow.” The same had happened on Monday.

  They got through an easy win on Tuesday, and Max seemed more himself. But Wednesday and Thursday he seemed stressed, and then came the game at King of Prussia. KOP was 5–1 in the league, having lost on the road to Chester, who, like Chester Heights, was undefeated. That the game was close surprised no one. KOP had lost 55–51 to Chester, which meant they could play.

  Early in the third quarter, with Chester Heights leading 41–38, Max caught a pass on the wing, made a pretty shot fake to get around his defender, and drove to the basket. Seeing Max with a lane, Pete Sessa, the Cougars center, scrambled to cut him off. He was too late, slamming into Max as he laid the ball in. The whistle blew, and Alex pumped his fist because Max would be going to the line to try to give the Lions a six-point lead.

  Except he wasn’t. The official came out from under the basket with his hand behind his head, signaling a charging foul on Max. It was a brutal call. Sessa hadn’t even been close to being in position to take the charge. Alex had a perfect view from across the key of him arriving a full step late and initiating the contact with Max.

  “NO WAY!” Alex screamed, causing the official to give him a look. Alex turned away so he wouldn’t get into trouble.

  But Max was having none of it. Alex heard him screaming, “Are you kidding me? You have to be kidding!”

  Now Alex turned and saw Max in the official’s face.

  “Back off, son. He established position on you.”

  “WHAT?!” Max screamed. “There’s no way!”

  Steve Holder, always the cool head, got between Max and the official. “Come on, Max, we’ll get it right back,” he said, trying to move Max away.

  “He was at least a step late!” Max yelled. “What were you looking at?!”

  The official, who had started to walk away, turned back to Max, pointed his finger, and said, “That’s enough.”

  Then he walked to the baseline with the ball, blew his whistle, and said, “Let’s play.”

  Max was still seething. On the inbounds pass, he reached his hand in and knocked the ball loose. The whistle blew again—another foul, Max’s third. Alex had dropped back on defense, so he couldn’t see whether the call was correct or not. It didn’t matter to Max. He jumped up and went right at the official.

  “Have you ever seen a basketball game before?” he demanded. “EVER?!”

  That was it. The official made the T sign for a technical foul, and Holder and Jonas and Alex all rushed in to pull Max away.

  Alex saw Jameer Wilson sprinting to the table to report in for Max. Coach Archer had to get him out of the game—in part to calm him down but also because the technical counted as his fourth foul, meaning he was one away from fouling out. Alex, Jonas, and Steve escorted Max to the bench to make sure he didn’t try to get in one more shot at the official.

  “I’m fine,” he kept saying. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not,” Holder said.
“You gotta calm down, man, or you’re going to get tossed, and we need you.”

  That seemed to bring Max back to earth. He walked to the bench, where Coach Archer put an arm around him and began talking quietly to him as Ernie Gulbis, KOP’s point guard, went to the line to shoot the technical free throws.

  The rest of the quarter went badly, the Lions’ three-point lead turning into a five-point deficit. Max came back at the start of the fourth quarter, and Coach Archer switched to a zone defense, in part to force the Cougars to shoot more from outside but also to try to protect Max from picking up his fifth foul.

  Both strategies worked. Max’s expression never changed throughout the last eight minutes. When he went up for a jumper in the lane and clearly got hacked across the wrist but didn’t get the call, he said nothing, sprinted back on defense, and made a clean steal at the other end. He hit two key threes in the last four minutes and had five rebounds. With the defense keying on Max, Jonas found some open space and scored eight points in the quarter. A Holder layup with 3:12 to play put the Lions ahead for good, and they ended up with a 77–72 win.

  As soon as the buzzer sounded, Coach Archer sprinted after the official Max had tangled with.

  “I just want to say one thing,” Alex heard him say. “My kid was right. You let people foul him all night. You shouldn’t be officiating.”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, instead heading for the handshake line with his players.

  “That was a bad move,” said Steve Holder, who was standing behind Alex in the line and had also heard the comment.

  “Why?” Alex said. “Game’s over. He’s standing up for his player.”

  “This game’s over,” Holder said. “Chances are, we’ll see that dude again.”

  He had a point.

  Alex was worried. The ref had clearly missed the call, but Max didn’t usually lose his temper. Besides Holder, Max was usually the calmest guy on the court. He never showed any emotion when he made a shot and had never argued a bad call beyond a quick look at an official before.

  Alex suspected Max mania was part of the problem. At home games, the “Max Pack” was now close to a hundred girls, and they all made a point of shrieking rock-concert-style when he was introduced with the other starters. Max was trapped: the team was playing well, and he wanted to keep riding that wave. But clearly another part of him was drowning.

  Max went straight home after the King of Prussia game, leaving Alex and Jonas to fend off Hope Alexander at the after-party.

  “Where’s Max?” Hope asked, without so much as a “hello” or “nice win.”

  “He was tired,” Alex said.

  “And he got teed up and nearly thrown out of the game,” Matt added.

  Alex and Jonas had filled him in on the game after arriving.

  “What’s teed up?” Hope said, looking exasperated.

  “It means he got into an argument with one of the refs,” Jonas said. “Cut the guy some slack.”

  Alex looked at Jonas. It wasn’t like him to snap at people.

  “Cut him some slack?” Hope said. “What’s that mean? I’d just like to see him come out and get to know more people.”

  “He was beat,” Alex said, deciding he’d better cut off the argument before it got out of hand. “He just wanted to go home. No big deal.”

  Hope raised an eyebrow but then turned and walked away, her entourage following.

  Matt was shaking his head as she walked away. “You have to admire her spirit,” he said, smiling.

  He turned to Alex. “For the record, though—if I were Max, I’d be here, not hiding out. I mean, look at those girls. He can have his pick of any one of them.”

  “I’m pretty sure he knows,” Alex said. And left it at that.

  On Saturday morning, Alex woke up early and decided it was time for him to play the role of Christine Whitford. He called her and said he thought they all needed a lunch at Stark’s.

  “Did something happen last night?” she said.

  “At the party?” he said. “Nothing important. But you saw what happened in the game. Max isn’t Max right now, and he’s not talking about it. I don’t think that’s good.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there,” she said.

  Jonas was in too.

  Max hedged. “I’m okay, Alex. I’m sorry I blew up last night—”

  Alex cut him off. “You don’t need to apologize, Max. Just come to lunch.”

  When they were all assembled, before Alex could say anything, Max said, “I know why you wanted to talk, Alex, and you’re right. It’s time.”

  It was Christine who spoke first. “Max, are you sure? Just because you lost your temper for a moment over a bad call—”

  Max waved his hand. “It wasn’t just a moment,” he said. “I’ve been uptight for a while now. It’s harder than I thought to hide. I thought keeping quiet would be better for the team. But I could have cost us the game last night….”

  Jonas tried to jump in. “You were right about the bad call, though. Any of us could have lost it.”

  “But it was me who did. No, I think it’s time.

  “Christine, are you still willing to let me write something for the Weekly Roar?” Max added. “If it’s in next week’s paper, the news won’t break until after we play Chester on Tuesday, so it won’t affect that game. Except that I’ll feel better, so I’ll probably play better.”

  Their hamburgers arrived. Max picked his up and grinned. “You know how I know this is the right thing to do?” he said. “Because I feel better already.”

  Max was nowhere in sight at lunchtime on Monday when Christine sat down at their table. She handed printouts of something to Alex, Jonas, and Matt.

  “You might as well read this too,” she said to Matt.

  The headline at the top of the printout was self-explanatory: MAX BELLOTTI: I’M GAY.

  The byline said, BY MAX BELLOTTI, AS TOLD TO CHRISTINE WHITFORD. It was written in the first person and got right to the point.

  I’m gay. I’ve known for a while, and I’ve been out with my family and a few friends, and now it feels like time to be out more publicly.

  Coming out is, for me, a great relief. It means I can be who I truly am every day at school and out of school. I’m planning to join the GLAAD group here at Chester Heights, and I hope that my coming out will encourage other gay high school athletes to do the same.

  I don’t think it takes any great courage to do what I’m doing. Athletes like Jason Collins, Michael Sam, and Derrick Gordon have already blazed this path for me and for others who will follow.

  The story went on to talk about his friendships with other gay athletes who were still closeted and that he hoped they would feel comfortable coming out too at some point in the near future. He offered special thanks to Alex and Jonas.

  They have known for weeks and haven’t pressured me one way or the other about when or even if I should come out. If my being gay has affected the way they feel about me, I certainly haven’t seen evidence of it. They’re great teammates and wonderful friends. And they’ve given me hope that my other teammates and schoolmates will see this as no big deal too. Time will tell.

  All three boys finished reading at about the same time. Alex had heard Matt say “Whoa” when he saw the headline, but beyond that, he didn’t seem fazed.

  “When did he tell you guys?” he asked.

  “The day after the Bryn Mawr game,” Alex said. “You remember how Hope and the girls were all over him at the party that night? He told us the next morning. He was thinking about coming out right then but decided to let it ride awhile. I guess awhile is up.”

  “It’ll cause a stir around here, that’s for sure,” Matt said.

  “Maybe in all of Philadelphia,” Christine said. “He’s the leading scorer in the conference right now. I think it’ll get picked up on TV, radio, the Internet, newspapers….”

  Matt looked at Alex. “What is it with you, Goldie? Trouble follow you everywhere?”

&n
bsp; “You call this trouble?” Alex said with a grin. “And Jonas has been here all school year too, you know.”

  “Jonas didn’t have the false-positive on his drug test,” Matt said.

  “True,” Alex said. “But seriously, do you really think this is trouble? I mean, what’s the big deal? There are probably gay players on the football team too.”

  “Not openly gay,” Matt said. “Look, I couldn’t care less, but Max is a star player and he’s movie-star handsome. This is going to go viral in about two minutes.”

  The win over King of Prussia meant that Tuesday’s game against Chester would be a showdown between the two unbeaten teams in the conference. The game would also mark the halfway point of the conference season. Each school played home and away against the other eight conference schools.

  Chester had been everyone’s preseason pick to win the conference title. Chester Heights had been picked eighth.

  But here they were at midseason—neck and neck.

  Chester’s gym was packed. It looked to Alex like people were practically hanging from the rafters and sitting in the aisles during warm-ups.

  “Guess they don’t have any fire marshals around here,” Jonas said.

  Alex and Jonas had talked to Max at lunch about when and how he was going to tell the team about the story they’d see in the Weekly Roar.

  “I told Coach Archer this morning,” he said. “I thought he should know, and he was great about it. He suggested I tell the guys after the game. No need to distract them before.”

  As it turned out, it probably wouldn’t have mattered. For the first time since December, the Lions were completely outplayed.

  Zane Wakefield couldn’t even last his usual three to four minutes. He turned it over twice and forced a terrible shot, and Coach Archer had to call time-out to get Alex into the game. By then, Chester was already up 9–0. Alex was better than Wakefield—someone playing with a hockey stick would have been better than Wakefield—but not good enough. He had serious trouble dealing with the Clippers’ senior point guard, Avery Jackson, at both ends of the court. This was hardly surprising given that Jackson had already committed to Villanova and was clearly a D1-caliber player.