“You’re talking about basketball camps.”
“Yeah. The Nike camp, the Prairie State Games. You know.”
“Yes,” said Quackenbush. “We do know. How much money does your uncle give you?”
Sonny felt like his privacy was being invaded, and why were they trying to make him feel guilty? It was annoying, but apparently not to Gardner, who seemed utterly placid. Sonny decided not to mention the Toyota. He told them, “It varies. Sometimes he gives me a hundred.”
“This is a generous uncle,” observed Quackenbush.
“I guess he is. Is there something wrong with it?”
“Probably not.”
“I’ve lived with him and my aunt since my sophomore year.” He needed some more water.
Quackenbush poured himself a cup of coffee before he continued. “Sonny, when did you decide you were going to enroll at SIU?”
“I signed my letter of intent last November.”
“That’s what we have on record. What I mean is, when did you make up your mind?”
He had to think before he could answer. “By the time I was a junior, I was pretty much decided.”
“Pretty much?”
“I was decided. My mind was made up.”
“Fine. Did you make official visits to UCLA and the University of Illinois last fall?”
Gardner interrupted for the first time: “It doesn’t seem in very good faith to ask him what you already know.”
“Okay,” nodded Quackenbush, “fair enough. When you made those campus visits, Sonny, did you tell those coaches that you had already made up your mind to go to SIU?”
“Not exactly. I told them I was leaning, but they wanted me to come for the visits anyway.”
“Why UCLA?” asked Burns.
Sonny provided the only answer he knew, “I always liked the Bruins on TV, and I wanted to visit the campus.”
Burns looked up quickly from his notes. “You wanted a free trip to California.”
Sonny blinked. The way everything seemed to have a double meaning added to his tension. “I wouldn’t exactly put it that way.”
“How would you put it, then?”
“I already told you how I put it.”
It was Gardner’s turn to make another interruption: “Let’s be fair here. Sonny was entitled to five official visits, but he only made three. Lots of prospects sandbag their way on a much bigger scale than that. Let’s be fair.”
Burns seemed impatient. “Why the U of I?” he wanted to know.
“When I was a sophomore, that’s where I wanted to go,” Sonny told him.
“Why?”
“I wanted to play in the Big Ten. It seemed big-time, almost like the NBA.”
“Did University of Illinois coaches make you any offers of cash or other gifts?”
“No,” answered Sonny. “I thought I already told you nobody offered me anything illegal.”
Quackenbush said, “You wanted to play in the Big Ten, and then you chose to come to SIU. What changed your mind?”
It was the easiest question yet. Sonny told them, “My uncle Seth is an SIU alum. It was important to him for me to play here.”
“So you chose SIU to please your uncle?”
“It’s not quite that simple. My mother’s in the state hospital in Anna. My aunt pointed out how I wouldn’t be able to visit her if I went away from home too far.”
“Family loyalty then, primarily?”
“That was a big part of it, but I like Coach Gentry and the players, too. It meant a lot to me when I found out Luther Cobb was coming here.”
“You wanted to play with Luther Cobb?”
“Sure. Who wouldn’t?”
Then Quackenbush asked, “Is it fair to say that you wanted to go to the U of I, but your uncle exerted enough influence to change your mind? Is that a fair statement?”
They are twisting this, Sonny thought to himself. And why do they care so much about Uncle Seth?
Gardner complained, with unconcealed impatience: “Would you expect a high school sophomore to have his mind made up about college plans? Especially one who’s getting pressure from college recruiters day and night on the phone?”
Sonny appreciated the supportive intervention, but Quackenbush simply said, “Fine. Is it fair to say you accepted free campus visits to the U of I and UCLA after you had your mind made up to attend SIU? Is that fair?”
It seemed so argumentative that Sonny felt defensive. He looked at Gardner, who simply smirked and gave it a wave of his hand. Which Sonny interpreted to mean, It’s all just a matter of routine, so go along.
But Sonny had his own impatience by this time. He said to Burns and Quackenbush, “It’s a basically accurate statement, but I don’t know if it’s fair or not.”
When the interview was over, Sonny went straight to practice, an hour late.
After supper, he called his uncle to tell him about the Checkpoint interview. Uncle Seth told him not to worry. “It’s strictly routine, just going through the motions.”
“Easy for you to say, you weren’t there. You know about this?” Sonny asked him.
“A little. I may be an old fart, but I get around some.”
“I didn’t even know this was comin’,” said Sonny.
“Don’t worry about it,” Seth repeated. “You need any money?”
“Not really.”
“Maybe you should. Spend a little money, have a little fun.”
“Right.” But when he hung up the phone, Sonny felt relieved.
Another walk in the rain, through Thompson Woods, heading for study table. This was cold rain, falling steady through bare branches. The occasional lamps, if they weren’t burned out, lighted the path, but it was an especially dark night.
Sonny wore his Cardinals baseball cap, but it didn’t prevent some of the rain from splattering his face. He thought how strange it seemed, the way things could turn ironic. Checkpoint was being somebody. So were press conferences, phone calls from reporters, microphones in your face, and the hot light of the Minicam. Sonny was somebody. When he was a senior at Abydos, they ran his picture in Street and Smith. He didn’t care about it; he only cared about the game itself, and even that was a kind of vacuum of its own, the way he played it in his private zone of intensity that blotted out the cheering crowds and the backslappers. Maybe most of life itself. Was basketball fun?
A tutor helped him with gerunds and participles but what little interest he had was brief. It was between 9:30 and 10:00 when he ran into Warner at the Pizza Hut on the lower level of the student center. Warner was a sportswriter for the Carbondale paper, the Southern Illinoisan, whom Sonny had known for a long time.
“Would you like to tell me about Checkpoint?” Warner asked him.
Sonny had to smile. “How come you know so much?”
“It’s a reporter’s job to sniff these things out. But if I knew so much, as you put it, I wouldn’t need to be asking you any questions.” He was smiling.
It was a long line they were in, and they found themselves near the end of it. People stared at Sonny, but he was used to it. Warner was a tall, gaunt man with a perpetual twinkle in his eyes. He’d been covering Sonny’s games since his sophomore year.
“So where’s your pencil?” Sonny asked.
“I don’t need a pencil for porch talk. It’s too late to be on duty anyway. I tried to raid the refrigerator but there wasn’t anything in it except for health food like carrots and celery.”
“They say it’s just routine,” Sonny stated.
“Checkpoint? Yeah, that’s all it is.”
“You might think different if you were there. I wonder who else they’re going to interview.”
“You mean here at SIU?”
“Yeah.”
“Nobody,” said Warner. “Only you. They only screen the top fifty freshmen in the country. If you’re looking for recruiting violations, that’s the most likely place to find them.”
“But what about Luther? He was
a junior college all-American.”
“He was, but that’s just it. Luther’s a junior college transfer, not a freshman. If he went through Checkpoint, he probably went through it two years ago.”
“Well, did he?” asked Sonny.
“I don’t know,” Warner answered. “Maybe not. The NCAA doesn’t usually take too much interest in guys who go to junior college. Look at it this way, Sonny; it’s an honor to be chosen.”
“Let’s believe that.” But he wondered why this information had to come from a newspaper reporter. Why not from the basketball staff, or the athletic director’s office, or the compliance officer?
It was their turn to order. “Buy you a slice of pizza?” offered Warner.
“Sure. Why not?”
Warner was smiling again, but this time in an indulgent way. “Why not is because it would probably be a violation. If I buy you something to eat, that’s a gift. I’m not an SIU alum, but anybody who spends as much time as I do on this campus would be seen by the NCAA as a representative of SIU athletic interests. Ergo, I would be providing you with an illegal gift.”
“Okay, okay. Gardner goes over all this stuff, but it’s too complicated.”
“Complicated it is. It’s a game you have to play like you’re walking through a minefield.”
Sonny looked him in the eye, which meant he had to look down. “It’s not the game I care about,” he said. “The only game I care about is the one played on the court.”
“I believe that,” admitted Warner.
When they found a table and started eating, Warner said, “I don’t want to alarm you, Sonny, but I’m going to put a bug in your ear. Checkpoint may be simply routine, but what’s coming is not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means an NCAA investigation. Does the basketball staff discuss this stuff with you people?”
“No, we never talk about anything like that, just the rules. Today was the first time I ever answered questions from the NCAA.”
Warner finished chewing, swallowed, and drank some of his Coke before he continued. “I probably shouldn’t mention any of this, but it seems like somebody should. There’s going to be an investigation, and I mean full-scale.”
“You mean of our program?”
“That’s exactly what I mean. The NCAA is going to conduct a full investigation, which won’t be routine at all.”
“How do you know?”
Warner shrugged and smiled. “I got hold of some information. Trust me on this.”
“I trust you. When will they have this investigation?”
“There’s no way to tell. The NCAA is overloaded, and they’re incredibly slow even when they’re not.”
Sonny could feel a knot forming in his stomach. I haven’t even played a game yet. “Are they going to have it this year?”
“They’d probably like to, if they can get their act together, but who knows? Time will tell.”
Sonny didn’t say anything for a while. He ate his pizza instead, and tried to remember details of his recruiting trips or specific conversations with coaches. He remembered when Uncle Seth finally set up a separate phone line with an answering machine.
Warner said, “I really wasn’t sure if I should mention this to you or not. I wouldn’t want to do anything to upset you. You’re a good kid, Sonny; I’ve always liked you.”
And what good does it do to be a good kid? “It’s okay, Warner, I’m glad you told me.”
“I hope so.”
“I’m not afraid of an investigation,” Sonny said. “I’ve never done anything wrong.”
“I’m sure you haven’t.” Then Warner changed the subject: “Are you ready for the Big Apple?”
He was talking about the NIT in New York City. “That’s not for another week,” Sonny replied. “I’ll be ready when the time comes.”
Sissy’s office was in ancient Allyn Hall on the perimeter of the old campus quad. Although he’d passed it many times on the way to informal workouts at Davies, he’d never been inside the building. If there was a comfortable way to talk to her, Sonny didn’t know what it might be, so he started with an irrelevant question. “Do you think Uncle Seth will be pissed when he finds out I quit the fraternity?”
“I have no idea, Sonny. Are you in a fraternity?”
“I was, until last week. I dropped out.”
“I’d like to see that as a problem, but in my mind a person who separates himself from the Greek system should be commended for an act of intelligence.”
Sonny absorbed her remark a moment or two before he continued, “I’m going to tell him I just don’t have the time, which is the truth. Not with classes and practice.”
“Did you enjoy the fraternity?”
“No.”
“Then that should be reason enough for quitting, shouldn’t it?”
“Probably. I just don’t want to hurt his feelings, I guess.”
“Why is it so important what he thinks?” Sissy asked him. “Why are you so concerned about Seth’s approval?”
Sonny looked at her. He felt like saying, He’s your father, for Christ sake. Instead, he told her, “Where would I be now if it wasn’t for Uncle Seth and Aunt Jane? They took me in when my mother went to the puzzle house.”
“I know, Sonny. I’m glad for that.”
“He supported my whole basketball career through high school. He took care of recruiters, summer camps, and just about everything else. It was like I had my own agent.”
Sissy answered, “I’m pleased to hear it. I hope he did it for the right reasons.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
It was somehow her cue to activate some impatient body language. She sat up straighter in her chair. “Let’s just say your uncle Seth hasn’t exactly made a habit of working at things that don’t benefit him personally. Have you never heard of doing the right thing for the wrong reason?”
“He’s your father, isn’t he?”
“Yes, indeed. Sonny, your uncle and I have a long and checkered history, which you and I don’t need to explore at this time. If he supported you, I’m happy to know it. In any case, belonging to a fraternity, or not, has to be your decision.”
Of course she was right. He looked out the window where the sycamore limbs, large and bare of leaves, mottled with missing bark, reached their bony branches right up near the glass. It was a clear sky, but the sun in it was the pale November kind.
“Why did you come to see me?” Sissy asked him. “You’re not here to talk about fraternities.”
“That’s true.” He was still staring out the window at the branches. “I’ve got a big problem. I dropped a course.”
“What course?”
“Anthropology. Intro to.”
“Why did you drop it?”
“I think I was flunking.”
“Then maybe dropping it was the right thing to do.”
He looked into her eyes. “I’ve only got eleven hours now; I’m afraid I’m not going to be eligible.”
“You’re talking about basketball now. Are you saying that you have to be carrying more than eleven hours to be eligible for basketball?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“And you didn’t know this when you dropped Anthropology?”
Sonny shook his head. “I probably should have. Robert Lee told me last night. He’s one of the other players on the team. I thought eligibility was based on the courses you’re registered for.”
“And apparently it’s not?”
“It gets worse. I might not even be eligible second semester. I might not have what they call satisfactory academic progress. Not with just eleven hours.”
“Have you talked to your academic advisor?”
“He’s on the A.D.’s staff. He’ll be pissed big-time.”
“Will he know?”
“All our academic stuff goes through the athletic director’s office.” At this point there seemed more than he could tell her. Or woul
d know how to tell her. There was eligibility, but there was also trust in the athletic administration. Sometimes it felt like your treatment wasn’t open. There was the possibility of the NCAA examining everybody’s transcript. When the basketball office found out, what if they tried to hide it? Then where will I be? Finally he said to her, “Sometimes it’s like you can’t even take a piss without the right person’s permission. Or that’s how it seems. Excuse my language.”
For the first time, Sissy laughed. “Sonny, forgive me for being blunt with you, but I have no patience at all with varsity athletic programs in college. There are universities where some of the best high school students are denied admission, yet basketball and football players can be admitted with ACT scores of fifteen.”
“I know all about that. What am I supposed to do?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s a corrupt sort of business, but you’re not its creator. Why are you telling me all of this?”
Sonny decided he might just as well say it. “I just thought that since you’re a professor, there might be something you could do.”
“Do? I don’t know of anyone who could reinstate you in a class once you’ve dropped it.”
Sonny was shaking his head. Since he was this far, though, he might as well go for the rest. “That’s not it. I only need one hour. I thought there might be something you could do.”
At first, she didn’t say a word. Slowly, and with some discomfort evident, she wheeled her desk chair close to him, using her feet to propel herself. She clamped his left hand, top and bottom. “Cousin, Cousin. Are you asking me to commit academic fraud for a jock?”
“No, nothing phony.” He tried to imagine how preposterous this request must sound, and how vague. “You have to understand, I’m not good at expressing myself. I just thought there might be something; I’m not sure what.”
She let go his hand. When she stood up, she did so slowly. “Come with me. I’ll buy you a Coke at the student center.”
This part was a surprise. “I’ll go with you, but I can’t accept the Coke.”
“Why is that?”
“It’s probably a gift. It’s probably a violation.”
“From your own cousin?” Then she began laughing and laughing, for what seemed like the longest time.
Sonny finally interrupted, “What’s so funny?”
The Squared Circle Page 4