“You can’t make a call from here—”
“Yes, I can. Your phone’s authorized in the scoring area, and the tournament’s over. I gotta let Jerry Tarde know what I’m up to. Take thirty seconds.”
Slugger was still shaking his head. “What are you up to?” he asked.
“Give me the phone,” Keith said. He knew McIlroy was going to come outside at any moment.
“No,” Slugger said firmly.
Keith reached out and tried to swipe the phone from Slugger’s hand. His ex-teammate quickly switched it from his right hand to his left, watching Keith all the while. As he did, Frank reached out and grabbed the phone from Slugger, who—uncharacteristically losing his cool—tried to grab it back.
Frank tossed it to Keith, who spun away from Slugger so that he couldn’t pry it from his hands.
Slugger hadn’t locked it after his phone call. Keith went to recent calls, and there it was: the last call was to the number he expected. Erica Chambers hadn’t been lying about her cell number. He scrolled down and found a dozen calls to that number. Then he found the other one he was looking for, a different number in the 317 area code—from Friday night. He knew 317 was the area code for Indianapolis—which was where the NCAA’s headquarters were located.
Frank was hanging on to Slugger for dear life to keep him from getting to Keith. McIlroy came outside. The green-jackets, looking confused by the sight of Frank wrestling with his caddie, were coming for him.
“We need you right now, Mr. Baker,” one of them said quite firmly.
“Coming,” Frank said. “What’d you find in there, Keith?”
“Tell you later,” Keith said. “Go take care of the ceremony.”
As Frank was whisked away, Keith tossed the phone back to Slugger.
“You want to tell me about it?” he said.
“No, not really,” Slugger said.
But then he did.
* * *
More than an hour passed before Frank got a chance to talk to Keith. He had gone through the Butler Cabin ceremony, where he’d been given the medal as Low Amateur, and then did the same thing on the putting green. McIlroy had gone on at length about Frank’s “remarkable act of sportsmanship,” thanking him over and over for saving him from losing the Masters because of a mind block.
“I guess, given my age and Frank’s age, you could say I had a senior moment,” he joked.
Frank was brought to the press center before McIlroy and the questions were all about his cool under pressure and when he planned to turn pro.
“Not for a good long while,” he’d said, even knowing he might not have a choice in the matter.
Finally, someone asked if he thought he might someday regret stopping McIlroy from putting because it was possible he’d never have a better chance to win the Masters.
“You think I’d want to win the Masters that way?” he said. “I’d much rather be remembered for not winning it this way than for winning it that way. I would only have regrets if I hadn’t stopped him. Right now, I haven’t a single regret. Not one.”
As Frank stood to leave, he heard applause. Keith had told him reporters didn’t applaud at the end of press conferences. Apparently some—many—had decided this was a moment for that rule to be broken. He waved a hand in thanks and realized the applause was getting louder. Then, many—most? all?—were on their feet. Standing in the back of the room, Keith got misty-eyed for a moment.
It was pitch dark when they drove Frank back to the clubhouse. He’d told his father he’d meet him at the hotel. He needed some time alone with Keith before he faced his father or Ron Lawrensen. Or, for that matter, Slugger.
His father was waiting for him in the lounge. There was no sign of Keith.
“I asked Keith to give me five minutes alone with you,” his dad said, reading his mind. “He’s out on the veranda. I’ll send him in as soon as I’m finished. I promise this won’t take long.”
Frank sat down on one of the couches. His father sat across from him.
“I’m so proud of you right now, I don’t even know how to express it,” he said. “I’m proud because you played so well, but I’m so much more proud because of what you did on the eighteenth green.” He paused. “I wish I was half the man you are.”
“Dad, come on—”
His father held a hand up. “No, I mean it,” he said. “This last year, I’ve been the teenager blinded by money, letting Lawrensen lead me by the hand. I was willing to basically sell you. Ron didn’t walk today because he was trying to seal a deal with that Brickley woman. Gave me a lot of time to think as I watched you play. By the way, she’s now offering double the money that was on the table after what happened. If you want it, it’s yours. I’ll sign on your behalf.”
“I don’t want it, Dad.”
“Good. Neither do I.” He paused. “I just want to go back to when we played golf together for fun—although now I’m going to want a lot more shots than in the past.” He smiled. “You tell me where you want to go to college, and if the NCAA declares you ineligible to play on a college team and you can’t get a scholarship, I’ll pay your way.”
“Dad, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know,” he said, and stood up.
Frank stood, too, and they hugged.
“I’ll send Keith in,” his father said. “You two have a lot to talk about. He’s the other hero in this story.”
They hugged again.
“I love you, Dad,” Frank said.
“I love you too, son.”
He walked out.
Keith walked in a few seconds later.
The guard at the door started to say something, but Frank said, “He’s with me.”
The guard just nodded.
* * *
They walked back to the table in the dining area where they had sat thirteen hours earlier before going to see Jonathan Tucker.
“So?” Frank said.
Keith nodded, the way you nod when you have to tell a story but would prefer not to tell it.
“It was Slugger who called the NCAA on Friday,” he said. “He’s also been working with Brickley to make sure you sign with them—right now.”
“But why—”
Keith held up a hand.
“It’s always about money, Frank,” he said. “Your dad and Lawrensen had told him a while back that he was done once the Masters was over. They had lined up interviews with all the big-name teachers.”
“But Slugger should know I’d never—”
“Should know is right, Frank. But he didn’t. He was worried, and then Brickley showed up. Lawrensen was putting you up for bid, and Brickley was worried if you played well here—as in top ten or something—that Nike would come in with a blow-away bid. They’ve been known to do that. They told Slugger if he delivered you to them now—not after two years of college but now—they’d pay him two million dollars as a finder’s fee.”
“Two million dollars?”
“Lot of money for a guy with a wife and two young kids, a mortgage, and a salary of eighty-five thousand a year.” Keith let that sink in, then went on. “When you kept insisting to him and to me that you weren’t going to turn pro no matter what, he got scared. So, for insurance, he called the NCAA on Friday and told them what Lawrensen had been up to. He knew they’d come running because they love to take down stars in nonrevenue sports: it lets them show how tough they are, but it doesn’t cost them any money, the way taking down a star football or basketball player would.”
“But wasn’t he afraid I might get disqualified for not being an amateur?”
“He felt comfortable that Augusta wouldn’t want the scandal in the midst of the Masters. And he was pretty confident Tucker wasn’t going to take you off the golf course Sunday with the potential for record TV ratings because of you. Plus, he knew Tucker has a soft spot for amateurs because he won the U.S. Amateur himself. It was worth the gamble.”
Frank sat back in his chair.
�
�Still, how could he do that to me? I mean … that sucks.”
“For what it’s worth, I think he genuinely feels awful. He knows he’s ruined the most important relationship he’s ever had outside his family.”
“I don’t know if I can ever look him in the eye again,” Frank said. “What do I do now? If I can’t play college golf, then—”
Keith cut him off. “You might still be able to play. The Cam Newton case works in your favor, since you knew nothing about what your father and Lawrensen were doing. There’s also what happened today. If I were the NCAA, I’d want you playing college golf. You stand for everything that’s right about sports. They like that stuff.”
For a moment, Frank said nothing. “But you said this morning there’s no way to predict what the NCAA will do. That guy didn’t seem inclined to cut me—or anyone else—any slack.”
“True,” Keith said. “It could go either way. But it’s not his decision. It will go much higher than him.”
“But what if they rule against me? Guess I have to turn pro in college, then, right? My dad says he’ll pay my tuition, but I’m not sure he can handle that even if he wants to.”
“Best part of this story is, it looks like you got your dad back,” Keith said.
Frank smiled and said, “Yeah, I think I did.” His voice caught for a split second.
“I don’t think he’d have to pay your tuition, though,” Keith said. “I have an idea.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know how you’ve been asking me the last eight months if I was ever going to write anything about you?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, guess what? After today, publishers will be pounding on your door wanting a book. There will be a bidding war, and someone will pay a lot of money for your story.”
“And you’ll write it?” Frank said.
“I’d like to,” Keith said. “Unless you’ve got somebody else in mind.”
Frank laughed. “Yeah, right,” he said. “Split the money fifty-fifty?”
“Yup. Which should leave you with plenty to pay for college until you’re ready to turn pro.”
“Can I pick the title?”
“Sure,” Keith said. “What have you got in mind?”
“Do the Right Thing.”
Keith knew that was the title of a Spike Lee movie from the ’80s, and he suspected that more than one book author had used it as well over the years. But he could see why it was a title that appealed to Frank.
“Perfect,” he said.
“Let’s celebrate,” Frank said. “Let’s go crash the dinner for the members and the champion upstairs.”
“They might kick us out,” Keith said.
“You think Rory would let them do that?” Frank said.
“Come to think of it, I doubt it,” Keith said. “Let’s go.”
Frank stood up. He would have liked to have been at that dinner as the champion. But, under the circumstances, this was even better.
BY JOHN FEINSTEIN
The Sports Beat Series
Last Shot: Mystery at the Final Four
Vanishing Act: Mystery at the U.S. Open
Cover-Up: Mystery at the Super Bowl
Change-Up: Mystery at the World Series
The Rivalry: Mystery at the Army-Navy Game
Rush for the Gold: Mystery at the Olympics
The Triple Threat Series
The Walk On
The Sixth Man
The DH
Foul Trouble
Backfield Boys
The Prodigy
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
John Feinstein is the author of more than thirty books, including the #1 New York Times bestsellers: A Season on the Brink and A Good Walk Spoiled. He is also the author of numerous kids mysteries. His first young adult mystery, Last Shot, won the Edgar Allen Poe Award. John also works for the Washington Post, The Golf Channel, Sirius XM Radio and Comcast Sportsnet. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Part II
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
By John Feinstein
About the Author
Copyright
Farrar Straus Giroux Books for Young Readers
An imprint of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010
Text copyright © 2018 by John Feinstein
All rights reserved
Title page photograph copyright © Simon Potter
First hardcover edition, 2018
eBook edition, August 2018
fiercereads.com
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Feinstein, John, author.
Title: The prodigy / John Feinstein.
Description: First edition. | New York: Farrar Straus Giroux, 2018. | Summary: Seventeen-year-old golf prodigy Frank seems ready to blaze his way into Masters Tournament history, but his college plans are jeopardized by his father’s sponsorship plans that threaten to ruin Frank’s amateur status.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018001428 | ISBN 9780374305956 (hardcover)
Subjects: | CYAC: Golf—Fiction. | Fathers and sons—Fiction. | Conduct of life—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.F3343 Pr 2018 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018001428
Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945 ext. 5442 or by e-mail at [email protected].
eISBN 9780374305970
The Prodigy Page 27