by David Chill
Sal looked down at the ground for a minute as he weighed options in his mind. Other than his pride in being self-reliant, I didn't see any obstacle to my plan, nor a better one about to spring forward. Neither did he.
"Okay," he agreed.
I told Sal to follow me in his car. I offered Chase a place to stay as well, but he resolutely declined, saying he had a wife and kids to look after. I suggested to Chase that he call in sick rather than go to work the next day. To that, he gave no objection and said he could use a day off.
"There's one other thing," I said to Chase.
"What's that?"
"That gun you keep hidden under the driver's seat in the van?"
Chase stared at me. "How do you know about that?"
"I just do. Keep it on you for a few days."
Nodding solemnly, Chase agreed. He kept asking how I learned about the gun, but I just waved it off. "I'm pretty good at finding things," I said.
On the way home, I had a brief internal debate about calling Sal and stopping for an early breakfast at The Pantry again. Ultimately, I decided I needed sleep more than food right now. Tomorrow was going to be a mighty busy day.
Chapter 14
It was a little past noon when I woke up, and my bedroom was awash in sunlight. Since the window faced west, the morning light filtered in delicately. No harsh glares or sun streaks crawling through to disturb me. Not that I normally slept in much past daybreak. The only times I allowed myself to doze well into the morning were those when Gail came over. And as I began to stir from my slumber today, I found myself missing her, even though it had been less than three days since our return from Vegas.
I got up and made a pot of French roast. I had slept for a long time and felt good. Last night was productive in many ways. When you have a breakthrough after a lot of hard work, that delicious feeling of satisfaction settles in. Whatever bumps and bruises and stresses I had to endure now seemed eminently worth it. Nothing is better than cracking a case. I just needed to put the finishing touches on this one.
Sal passed on coffee and said he was going to go for a long walk by the bluffs overlooking the ocean. "I don't get to the beach much these days," he said. "Might as well enjoy it while I can. Besides, I'm supposed to walk a few miles a day for the therapy on my hip."
I called Detective DeSanto and gave him a brief rundown on what transpired at Malco last night, after we had uncovered the evidence surrounding Miles' death. He agreed there wasn't much we could do about Butterworth in the short run. By now he could be halfway to Argentina.
I called Gail, and the simple sound of her sweet voice on the other end of the line made my heart sing. The little things in life can be as precious as a diamond.
"It's good to hear your voice," I said.
"Yours too, compadre. I didn't hear from you yesterday. I always worry a little."
"No need. I have everything under control."
Gail laughed. "My, oh my. I don't know where you get that confidence."
"It's the belief that today is going to be a better day than yesterday. And tomorrow will be better than today."
"That sounds like it came from a preacher."
"I think I stole it from a greeting card."
"For a moment there, I was wondering if I was talking to my boyfriend."
"I like the term boyfriend," I mused. "Sounds a lot more intimate than partner."
"You know the reality is the same."
"Yeah, it is."
"So how are you doing, honey? Staying out of trouble, I hope."
"Not really."
"Uh-oh."
"But the good news is I think we've cracked the Malco case wide open."
"You found proof of who's involved in the thefts?"
"Pretty close on that. And we also found out who killed Miles."
"Wow. You've had a productive week. I can't wait to hear about it."
"And I can't wait to hear about the job with the City Attorney. How about dinner tomorrow night? It'll kick off a great weekend."
"Works for me."
I showered and dressed and tried to move my thoughts back to my speech this afternoon at SC. I had a rough idea of what I wanted to say, but was struggling to find the right words. I knew that sometimes when I stood up and spoke in public, the words flowed out effortlessly. Other times they came out in a halting way that was as awkward for me as it was for the audience. I wasn't a naturally gifted speaker when it came to large gatherings. But although I didn't know most of USC's current players individually, I did know this type of group very well.
It was a warm day and I arrived on campus a little before 3:00. Entering the McKay Center, I wandered around for a few minutes before stopping by Coach Cleary's office. I said hello to Sean, who told me everyone was waiting for me in the team meeting room. As I started to walk out, he asked me to wait, and dug into his desk drawer. Pulling out a large envelope, he said it contained two field passes for Saturday's game, in addition to four tickets.
"Sorry about these tickets not being exactly on the 50-yard line. Coach said you'd understand."
"Sure," I laughed. "The UCLA game is always a hot ticket."
"Especially this year. The winner is one step away from the Rose Bowl. New Year's Day in Pasadena. It's big."
"Nothing like it," I said, and thanked him for his help. I had played in two Rose Bowl games myself and they held a very special place in my memories.
I needed a few minutes to find the auditorium. This was where the players and coaches gathered as a group. Typically, the coaches went over general plans about the upcoming game or disseminated news they wanted to share with the team as a whole. After that, they would break up and go off with their position coaches.
The auditorium was abuzz with conversation, and by my estimate it was filled with close to 100 players. The majority were African-American, but they were all between 18 and 23 and most appeared to be in incredible shape. The players often sat together by position. The linemen were the most noticeable, given that they were huge and often tipped the scales at over 300 pounds. But everyone else was very taut and solid and had arms the size of many people's legs. The biggest difference between now and when I played was that virtually every player was rippling with muscles. Even the kickers looked like they worked out vigorously. This was a group of extremely strong men, and they exuded the indefatigable confidence of youth and infallibility.
Johnny Cleary nodded to me, and I moved to the front of the auditorium. A number of assistant coaches came over and shook hands with me. Johnny motioned me aside and told me he was going to take care of some team business and then introduce me. After a few minutes of housekeeping items, Johnny began to give an introduction.
"Guys, we have a special guest today. Most of you won't recognize his name, but he is one of the Trojan players who helped make this university great. He never got his shot in the NFL because of a freak injury that happened off the field. But when he played here he was the heart and soul of the team. I know that because we played in the same secondary. You know I played cornerback here at SC about a million years ago. This man's name is Burnside and he played behind me at free safety. I want you all to stand up and give him a big Trojan welcome."
And with that, the players in the room rose in unison and began applauding and cheering. I was taken aback at first. I was expecting a polite round of applause, but the noise was deafening as players cheered and whooped. I smiled, waved, and motioned for them to sit down.
"Thank you. That's very nice, I appreciate it, I really do. Especially since none of you guys know who the hell I am."
The room roared with laughter. I began to get a good feeling about this.
"I'm going to talk to you like the grown men you are. I know some of you are still teenagers or in your early 20s, but you're men. And I've seen the effort you've put in this year. You're 10-1 and ranked in the top five in the country. You're among the most talented group of players USC has ever put together. But on Saturday against
UCLA, that isn't going to mean so much.
"We all know about this rivalry. A lot of you grew up in So Cal and have been playing with or against these guys since Pop Warner. You're good, they're good. Let me tell you how you're going to look back on this game one day. I can sum it all up in one word. Effort.
"Everything comes down to effort. And you get to decide on just how much effort. How much effort you're going to put in. It's not just about X's and O's. It's about trying. It's about giving your all. And no one can make that decision but you. You decide just how hard you're going to try. You decide how much effort you exert. You decide how much of you is going to be in this game. You decide how you'll look back on this game one day.
"Some of you have heard the name Vince Lombardi. And you know Vince Lombardi was one of the greatest football coaches ever. He was once quoted as saying, 'Winning isn't everything, it's the only thing.' And you know what? He later said he regretted putting it in that way. What he meant to say was that winning isn't everything, what's important is doing everything you can, to put your team in a position to win. It's about focus, it's about hard work, it's about dedication. It's about you giving it every last ounce of energy you've got.
"There are going to be days when the football just doesn't bounce your way. No one wins every single game they play. But the guys who succeed in this sport - and in life - give it their best all the time. They don't hold back. And it's hard to think that one day you're going to be old like me. Or Coach Cleary over there," I said, jerking my thumb towards him. "But you will be. It happens to everyone. And the last thing you ever want to think is, oh, I wish I had tried harder when I was younger. I wish I had done the work. I wish I had given it everything.
"You've heard the saying, 'Leave it all on the field.' That means putting every fiber of your being into performing at as high a level as you possibly can. This means doing the things that other guys aren't doing. This is what makes you different. What makes you stand out. What makes you get on the field more. What allows you to make plays. What makes the coaches notice you. What makes the NFL notice you.
"Let me tell you something. I wasn't the fastest guy on my team, I wasn't the strongest guy, the biggest guy, the smartest guy. Well... maybe I was the smartest," I smiled. Laughter filled the room.
"But I worked hard. Really hard. I tried to work harder than anyone else. I was one of the first guys on the practice field every day, and one of the last to leave. I pressed my coaches about what I needed to do to get better. I studied a lot of film to see where I could improve. But what I really did was focus on doing what I needed to do to raise my game to the highest level.
"How many of you do this? How many of you can honestly say you give it your all on every play? I know how tired you get, how much energy it takes. I'm not saying it's easy. But what I am saying is this. If you want to succeed, you have to work for it. And work really hard. People don't realize what you have to give up to become great. What you have to promise to yourself to become great. And live up to it. This has to be your creed. Your belief. What you do every single day.
"You know, we only get one thing in life. And we all get the same thing. We get time on this earth. And we don't know how much time we have. Which is why we can't waste any. Time slows down for no one. It's all we have. And it's not as much as you may think. It goes by fast.
"I had a shot at the NFL. But I busted up my knee and back then they didn't have the medical advances we have today. But working hard led me somewhere else, into a career in law enforcement. Now I have my own agency. My work is interesting. It's fascinating. It's challenging. I meet all sorts of people. Most of them I can help." I stole a glance at Marcellus. He was staring at me unblinking, his mouth slightly agape. "But I can help people because I work really hard at it. And the reward isn't always in money."
"If the numbers are correct, maybe seven or eight of you will be drafted into the NFL each year. A few more will catch on as free agents. Some of you will go on to make it in the league for a while. And when you're on that 53-man roster, you know you'll be making a lot of money. More money than you can make doing practically anything else at your age. But the average tenure in the NFL is three years. Three. Years. I think back to the guys from USC who were drafted ten years ago. I think only a couple of them are still playing. And not all the others are doing so well.
"This sport is brutal. And not just physically. You make a high profile mistake, whether on the field or off, and you may be out of the league for good. There aren't a lot of second chances in the NFL. If you're lucky you'll get one, maybe two shots. And that's why you need to prepare for life after football.
"Some of you love the game and will wind up as coaches. Some of you will move into other careers. But no matter what career you have, no matter what job you do, no matter what endeavor you're involved in. The harder you work at things, the more you will put yourself in a position to be successful. There is just no substitute for hard work. No substitute for effort.
"Try and think about just what it is you really want. And then put everything into getting it. You may need to make a course correction at some point. The very few who play in the NFL for a long time and invest well, they can retire and play golf the rest of their lives. But for the other 99 percent of us, we'll have to work at something. And the only way to do it successfully is by exerting that effort."
I paused and looked around. No one was daydreaming. No one's eyes were glazed over. No one was checking their watch. No one was leaning back in their chair. I think my talk was resonating. So I decided to lighten the mood.
"There's a story I want to share with you. It's about a great player who tried hard almost all the time. But he let his guard down for one moment. It was back during my sophomore year, and it happened in the UCLA game. They were up by 3 points, and there was about 20 seconds to go in the first half. UCLA had the ball down on our 5-yard line. The QB dropped back a step and then threw a quick bubble screen. They had been throwing that little pass the whole game, must have completed it half a dozen times. It usually only went for 5 or 10 yards, but those yards add up. The cornerback they were targeting was a guy named Johnny Cleary. I, uh, think you know him."
I looked over at Johnny and he was looking at the floor, shuffling his feet, trying to hold a smile back. He knew what was coming.
"But Coach Cleary, he read the play the whole way. They put a couple of blockers out there, but they never had a chance. Johnny stepped in front of the receiver and picked it off. And he had clear daylight ahead of him. He ran 90 yards and he was on his way to the end zone. And he was quick. No one was quicker than Johnny Cleary back then.
"But you know, they say the fastest guy on the football field is a quarterback who just had a pass intercepted. And that Bruin quarterback ran the length of the field and not only tackled Johnny before he got to the end zone, but he stripped the ball from him. That's right. Coach relaxed for that split second when he got near that goal line. And you know what happened next?"
I looked out at the team, and there was now a lot of grinning and laughing. Some guys were clapping their hands. You don't often get to see your head coach a little red-faced. Except maybe after a bucket of Gatorade is dumped on him during a post-game celebration.
"Well, there was one guy who didn't stop for a second. One guy who had a perfect view of what was happening. Because I was trailing Johnny on the play. I wanted to be the first one to jump on him and celebrate. I wanted to share his success. Our success. But the next thing you know, that football is rolling on the ground. And because I was running hard behind Johnny, I was right there. I scooped up the ball and ran 5 yards into the end zone. So Coach does all the work, he reads the play, he gets the pick, he runs 90 yards with the rock. But I'm the one who scores the touchdown."
The players were hooting with laughter. And above the din, I heard the voice of Marcellus Williams call out, "Hey Coach! Is that why we never run the bubble screen here? That's a play we should run on Saturday! They'l
l never see it coming!"
Johnny held up his hands. "Okay. Look, that's not the reason we haven't run bubble screens. It's a high-risk play. Like we just heard." He turned to me and smiled an evil smile.
"Burnside makes a great point. You have to play hard on every play. Most of us are guilty of relaxing once in a while. But what he says makes all the sense in the world. You never know when an opportunity presents itself. You have to be prepared. And being prepared means working hard. And putting in that 100 percent effort all the time. On every play. We only get one shot a year at UCLA and this is it. This is the big game. There is nothing like it in college football, a cross-town rivalry between two nationally ranked schools. We need to make every play count and we need total effort throughout the whole game.
"I'd like to thank Burnside for coming by and talking to us today. He's going to lead us on the field Saturday. Everyone needs to think about what he just said and take it to heart. We're going to work hard, we're going in totally prepared and we're going to win this thing."
With that, Johnny dismissed the team and the players began to disperse. A number came over and shook my hand and told me how much they appreciated my talk. A few said they thought my words were really important to them. And when most of the players had left the room, Marcellus Williams quietly approached me.
"That speech was amazing," he said.
"Thank you. This is the first time I've had the honor of addressing the team. I'm glad it went over well."
Marcellus drew in a breath. "I heard from Roper," he said.
"And?"
"Man, you really got through to him."
"Good."
"Yeah, you got through real good. He told me not to worry, he's not going to make trouble. He wants to stay in touch 'cause when I go pro in a couple of years, he says he can get some deals for me. Knows the guys at Nike, some record labels, too. He says he wants to help me, not mess me up."