by Phil Wohl
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Pete woke up at 11:30 on Saturday morning and was greeted by his mother, who told him that Coach Melnick had called about 10:00 a.m. Pete went to his parent’s room and immediately dialed the toll-free number to Melnick's sparsely-decorated, Barringer College office.
"Hello, Barry Melnick."
"Hey, Coach. It's Pete Berman."
"Pete! How did it go last night?"
"What, you don't know already?"
Melnick responded, "No, I've been sitting here the past few days reviewing tapes for our first round playoff game."
"We won by twenty-something, and I had 29 and 16. Who are you guys playing?"
"We drew the #1 team in the conference, Boulder Hill College, in the first round. We're the eighth seed, and only the top eight teams make the playoffs. At 13-15, we weren't exactly burning it up in the second half."
Pete asked, "How did you do against them this year?"
"Lost by 12 at home and 22 away."
"What do they have that you don't have?"
"Leadership. Smarts. Y'know, the intangibles you need to win ball games,” said Melnick.
"You’re getting my blood going,” Pete said smiling.
"Well, we'll have to build this almost from scratch."
"My team won two games my sophomore year."
"My Lessing team won three," Melnick shot back.
"We had eight players my junior year that were on the team the year before."
Melnick again returned Pete’s serve, "I think we had about the same."
"So you think this Barringer thing is doable?" Pete asked.
"I wouldn't have got you involved if I didn't think it could be done."
Pete said, "Well, that will give us something to talk about when I come up there after the season."
"I hope we'll have plenty to talk about, Pete Berman. Good luck on Tuesday."
"Yeah, you too."
"I'll talk to you next week," Melnick said as he hung up.
Pete had a lot on his mind. Not only was he going to face the pompous jerks of Rosewood Village on Tuesday, but he was starting to close in on making his college decision. Surprisingly, as each day went by, his mind became more at ease about where he was going than where he was. Where he was, was in the middle of a pressure cooker that changed nearly every day. Where he was going rested solely on the attractiveness of the Barringer campus. If the brochures and team yearbook where any indication, Pete would be shedding his navy blue and gold West Valley Rockets jersey for the Carolina blue and gold Barringer Bruins uniform.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The Tuesday night quarterfinal game against Rosewood Village brought out the usual West Valley overflow crowd. The cafeteria/television room was also full with about 100 people sitting and another 50 people standing for the last home game of the year. The wounds from the team's second round loss at Rosewood Village the previous year were still fresh in many people's minds. Not only had the team blown an eight-point lead in the fourth quarter, but Mike Stavros and his band of overrated spoiled brats had taunted the team in the closing seconds at their gym. This would be known as the whatever goes around comes around game.
The West Valley student body never needed a reason to be ruthless once inside The Launching Pad. It came easy for a group of teenagers hyped up by a variety of mind-altering chemicals and hormones. This was a school taken for granted for too long. This was a team, however, that was ready to approach a level of greatness.
For the first time all season, the two teams did not shake hands before the opening tap. Pete and Coach Andrews were also unusually quiet during their pre-game ankle taping ritual. As Pete finished tying his sneakers and got up from the chair, the coach patted him firmly on the butt and said, "Let's go get 'em." Dino Rizzo also came into the locker room, hugged Pete and grunted, "Let's get these mo' fo's, Pistol."
Rosewood Village had a very good team that was confident in their abilities and would not be ruffled by the crowd. These boys were great athletes and they were well coached. Besides their leading scorer Mike Stavros, the team also had an All-Conference point guard, Billy Kelly, and an All Division Center, Christian Bradford. The favored Rockets would be tested by the Gophers, but hoped to advance to Friday night's semi-final against either Bernaqua or Fellingwood. Pete was not looking ahead to Gerry Williams, because another S.O.B. named Mikos was talking to him from the first time he touched the ball.
"Hey, Petey. Still have those handle bars for hips?"
"Just wait 'till I get the ball, Mikey" an instantly-incensed Pete replied.
Tom Sullivan rifled a pass down low to Pete, who spun baseline, head-faked, absorbed the contact and softly banked in an eight-foot leaner. The referee blew his whistle and signaled the basket good and a foul. Streamers went flying from the stands and onto the court as the crowd went berserk.
Pete turned to Mikos and yelled, "All night, Mikey!"
Stavros laughed and took his place on the foul line. He thought for a split-second that quietness would be more effective, but his ego quickly scratched that thought.
West Valley raced out to a 9-2 lead and Rosewood Village called a time out. Pete was out of breath and used the one minute break to calm down. He already had seven points and four rebounds only four minutes into the game. Graham Parksdale, the Gophers head coach, decided to slow the action down by putting his team in a 2-3 zone defense for the rest of the quarter. The only thing he slowed down was Coach Andrews' blood pressure, as West Valley took a 19-10 lead into the second quarter.
The second quarter went by without incident as the Rockets lead was cut to six, 30-24. Pete finished the half with 22 points and 11 rebounds after a nine-point, four-rebound period. He was nine for eleven from the floor and three for three from the foul line. Mikos Stavros scored six points and had little to chirp about by the end of the half. The preliminaries were over and the real battle was about to rage on.
The game turned physical in the third quarter. As Stavros walked to the bench with four fouls, the crowd taunted him with "MIIII-KEY, MIIII-KEY." Coach Parksdale then decided to utilize a smaller line-up and throw a full-court press at West Valley. However, it did little to deter the smart-passing West Valley five, as they extended the lead to 42-34 at the end of the third quarter. Pete had scored 28 points and pulled down 17 rebounds, but also collected five assists, with three coming off the press that lead to open lay-ups. The team had the same eight-point lead it had the previous year, but most of the questionable judgment from that game had graduated and was now rooting from the stands. During that game, Artie Schueller had committed a mindless, but questionable, reaching foul with only two seconds left that eventually turned into a one-point loss for the team. The big man was in the crowd and made eye contact with Dino Rizzo with a where I have seen this before look.
Pete and Coach Andrews weren't far off the trail, either.
"Let's not get all full of ourselves here," Coach Andrews screamed over the boisterous crowd.
Pete added, "This isn't last year! This team is not going to stop us from getting to East City!"
"Okay, fella's," the coach said confidently, "jump on the big fella's back and let's ride it into the semis."
The team gathered around, "ONE! TWO! THREE! DEFENSE!"
The crowd roared as the team broke the huddle, "HERE WE GO VALLEY, HERE WE GO!" The momentum was seemingly on the Rockets side, but Rosewood Village refused to wilt. The Gophers came out and scored the first six points of the quarter, and Coach Andrews was just about to signal time out when the play occurred.
With 5:28 left in the game, Pete set a pick for Tom Sullivan and rolled to the basket. Being a huge klutz, he tripped over the foul line and slid on his back toward the basket. Tom blindly through a bounce pass to Pete, who caught the ball while still on his back.
Suddenly, Pete's mind flashed back to the blue carpet in h
is room and the many hours he spent on the floor shooting at a Puff basketball hoop attached to his closet. He calmly released the real ball as Mikos Stavros ran and then landed on him. The ball slowly floated in the air as an astonished referee blew his whistle. The ball arched over the front rim and through the net. The crowd exploded. The referee signaled the foul and the basket. The team mobbed Pete and the crowd went wild. Even the overflow crowd in the cafeteria was jumping up and down.
Pistol Pete had a shot for every occasion. His parents repeatedly told him that he was wasting too much time in his room doing nothing, but familiarity kept him from rolling around and being called for traveling. Coach Parksdale was furious. He couldn't believe that Pete didn't walk with the ball, but the ref illustrated how Pete managed to stay still on the ground. People in the stands were also copying the shot and shaking their heads.
Mikos Stavros walked glumly to the bench with his fifth foul as the crowd serenaded him with "Good-bye, Mikey" and "Na, Na, Na, Na, Na, Na, Na, Na, Hey, Hey, Hey, Good-bye." Pete basked in the crowd noise as he sank the free throw to give his team a seven point lead. Rosewood Village called for time to regain their composure. The West Valley cheerleaders ran onto the floor and gave the crowd a stirring rendition of "GO, FIGHT, WIN." The squad made a pyramid as tiny Yvette Borgman came flying down from the top and bounced up and down on her toes.
The game see-sawed over the next five minutes, but West Valley gripped onto its seven-point lead, 57-50. With 29 seconds left Pete was fouled on the inbounds pass. He walked the length of the court to the line and slapped his teammate’s hands without conversation. The crowd was starting to celebrate as Pete swished the first shot. He then dribbled three times, cocked his arms, and released the ball straight through the hoop.
Pete floated down the court as Rosewood kept hammering the boards until Christian Bradford put the ball back in with five seconds left. Pete grabbed the ball and walked out of bounds, knowing that the Gophers had no time outs and couldn't stop the clock. He raised his right index finger to the crowd and clutched the ball in his left hand as the final buzzer was drowned out by the elated crowd. Pete immediately ran through the crowd to Coach Andrews. He handed him the ball, hugged him and said, "Thanks for having faith in me." The coach grabbed his star close and replied, "There was never any reason to doubt you."
Pete then turned right into Isabel's flailing arms, and the celebration ensued. For the first time in the school's history, the basketball team was headed to the county semifinals. Pete's 36-point, 21 rebound, eight assist performance had sealed the deal and sent the already giddy town further into delirium.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
The home crowd and a generous call from an obviously biased referee pushed Fellingwood along on that Tuesday night. The stronger Bernaqua team couldn't get a break. With Fellingwood taking a season-high 25 foul shots, versus only six for Bernaqua, it was abundantly clear what the ref's were thinking. With ten seconds left in overtime, Fellingwood had the ball down one, 57-56. They worked the ball around but could not penetrate Bernaqua's solid man-to-man defense. Eric Spalding passed to Gerry Williams, who caught the ball in the low post and tried to head-fake Bruce Sterling into the air. Sterling wouldn't buy the fake and Williams was stuck. Two seconds left. Williams went up in the air and Sterling stuck his long arm up to defend the shot. Williams had nothing so he flailed and fell to the floor. The buzzer sounded and the referee blew his whistle. An excited Bernaqua team started to celebrate, but the party was cut short as the ref held his hand in the air and approached the scorer’s table. Both head coaches demanded an explanation. The ref obliged:
"Okay. There's a foul on #55 Black, #45 white shoots two. Put one second back on the clock."
Like everything else in his life, Gerry Williams had once again received preferential treatment. With 16 of his 28 points coming from the line, Gerry was happy to be given the chance to win the game from the charity stripe. Bruce Sterling had fouled out, and was not happy with the prospect of losing his last high school game in such a bogus fashion. Gerry stepped up to the line, ass sticking out, torso straight as an arrow, and rimmed in his first shot. With the score tied, Bernaqua took its last time out.
The Bernaqua coach used almost the entire time out as an opportunity to berate the officials. Of course, his protests fell on the deafest of all possible ears. He managed to draw up a full-court play in the last few moments while the referees were imploring him to get his team on the floor. There would be no insult on injury, as the ref's weren't going to call a delay of game technical. Gerry waited impatiently at the line, as if Bernaqua was wasting his precious time. He dribbled the ball hard five times and swished the second free throw. Bernaqua inbounded the ball but couldn't get a shot off before the extremely quick Fellingwood buzzer went off. Of course, this sparked another debate at the scorer’s table, but the zebras declared the game over sending Fellingwood into its second consecutive final four. As defending county champs, they had capitalized on their share of breaks and managed to thrive in the post season. Gerry Williams approached Bruce Sterling.
"Good game, Bruce."
"Yeah. Nice call, Gerry."
"Hit me on the arm, Sterling."
"Yeah, keep telling yourself that Williams. Hey, good luck against Berman. I hope he takes you to school again in front of 5,000 people."
Gerry didn't know what to say. He hadn't really thought about the next round. A few reporters came over and asked him about being a big underdog against West Valley. All he could muster was "We're the county champs until someone beats us." And when asked about his match-up with Pete Berman he said, "When was the last time Pete Berman played in front of 5,000 people? All I know is that I'll be ready Friday night."
People reading Williams' comments the next day had a variety of reactions. Carmine Pagnozzi wanted to strangle his star, but bashed in a garbage can in his backyard instead. He wanted Gerry to be confident, but knew the comments would only focus Berman more. Barry Melnick saw the comments on the wire the next day and called Pete that night.
"Hello."
"Pete?"
"Hey, Coach Melnick. How did you guys do last night?"
"Season's over. We lost by 18."
"Sorry to hear that."
Melnick switched gears, "Forget about that. Did you see today's paper?"
"No. My dad has it buried in the couch downstairs. What did I miss?"
"Do yourself a favor and go get it. I'll wait."
Pete dropped the receiver and ran down two flights to the den. His father tried to play it cool.
"Hey dad, got today's paper?"
"What paper?"
Pete shot his father a look, and then extended his arm for the paper. His father relinquished it and said, "Oh, man. This is not going to be pretty."
Pete quickly leafed through the sports section until he came upon the headline: Williams Ready to Outduel Berman. He started to read on, but remembered that Coach Melnick was on the phone upstairs. He raced up the stairs feeling both angry and confused. He picked up the receiver.
"Sorry, Coach. It sort of stopped me in my tracks."
"You mean to tell me that no one showed you that all day?"
Pete replied, "I guess they didn't want me to get upset."
"So, what do you think about what Williams said?"
"He can say whatever he wants, but when we step on the court he's mine. I don't need to talk about what I'm going to do."
The coach could not hold back a smile as he said, "That's what I thought you'd say. I'm leaving tomorrow morning to come down to see you play this weekend."
"I guess you'll get to see the final meeting of the rivalry."
"I don't know, Pete. Where I come from, a rivalry is more of an even battle."
"Yeah, that's why I like playing against Fellingwood so much."
Pete usually got real quiet when he was upset. At
school on Thursday, Isabel noticed a visible change in her man. Pete was more gone that she had ever seen him. His one- or two-word answers in the form of grunts, made it painfully obvious that he was already waiting for Gerry Williams in the East City College gym. She felt so alone, in fact, that she decided to sit in the stands with him and keep him company.
People were slapping Pete's back and wishing him luck all morning. He went to The Pizza Shack for lunch and spotted a familiar face at the corner table. Pete brought over his calzone and Sicilian slice and sat down.
"We have to stop meeting like this," Pete said sarcastically.
"Hey, Pete. This pizza is great," said a happily surprised Barry Melnick.
"The calzones are even better. They put ham in the middle. Here take half of mine."
"Thanks. I'd give you money for that, but I'm sure I would break at least 18 NCAA regulations." He took a bite out of the calzone. "WOW! That's amazing."
"Ever get this kind of food at Barringer?"
"No. Pizza is just dough, sauce and cheese there. They're known for their apple pies, soup, and ice cream. So, excited about this weekend?"
Pete replied, "Yeah. You?"
"What's not to be excited about? We've got to put this Gerry Williams thing away."
"Yeah, it's time we finally put him to bed."
Melnick asked, "You think we could work this thing out?"
"You're the educator. What do you think?"
Melnick replied, "I've always been of the opinion that if something feels right, then usually is right. It's a gut feeling. You're my kind of player. You let the game come to you. Most players these days watch too much TV, and try to play one on five and make some sort of fictional highlight reel. You, on the other hand, play with about four sets of eyes. You understand the game the way I do. I can't teach what you already have."