CHAPTER 54

Late Monday night, the Central players received emails from Coach Britt calling for a team meeting. By then it was no surprise he was leaving. Speculation had been rampant. Two websites did little more than track coaching changes in major college sports, and since the end of the season there had been the usual deluge of gossip about who was getting fired and who was moving up. At least ten major schools were getting new coaches.

They gathered in the locker room at 4 p. m., and the mood was somber. The seniors—Mitch Rocker, Roy Tice, and Dmitri Robbins—were invited, though they had played their last game. They had been recruited by Coach Britt and he wanted to say goodbye. And Sooley was there too, though everyone knew he wouldn’t be back.

As always, in those dreadful farewells, there was a sense of betrayal. The returning players had committed four years of their lives to the coach and his program. Suddenly, his program wasn’t good enough for them. He was moving on to bigger things and more money. On the one hand, they were happy for a coach they loved and wanted to succeed at the highest level. On the other hand, they simply wanted him to stay. As a team they had just accomplished the unthinkable and the future looked bright.

Lonnie made it as brief as possible. He said he had agreed to a four-year contract at Marquette and would be leaving town soon. He apologized for his departure, for leaving behind the guys he’d recruited, guys he loved, but such is the nature of the game. Everybody moves on; nothing remains the same.

He surprised them with the news that Jason Grinnell would be named as his successor. The players were visibly relieved to hear this. Not a word had leaked and there had been nothing online. Jason was popular with the players and had helped recruit most of them.

As his voice began to break, Lonnie thanked them for the great times they’d had together, and said he would always remember them. Then he wiped his eyes, smiled at them, and left the room in tears.

Jason Grinnell stood and took over the meeting.

· · ·

Two days later, Sooley signed a contract with Arnie Savage and entered the NBA draft. Central promptly issued a statement. No one was surprised.

The contract had been combed through by Ida Walker, who wanted a few changes. Arnie’s lawyer had emailed it to her, and when she printed it and first held it she felt like she needed to wash her hands. But the more she wrestled with it the more comfortable she became. It was as straightforward as Arnie had promised. His lawyer was easy to work with. Hey, they were all on the same team and pursuing the same goals.

Sooley was slowly beginning to resent her attempts at surveillance and control. For Murray, her involvement was beyond irksome. Though he doubted he would ever have the courage to do so, he was toying with the idea of taking a gap year and working as Sooley’s assistant. His friend needed him now and his life was only going to get more complicated. And Murray was seduced by the money, the private jets, the girls, the reflected glory, the sheer excitement of living through an NBA season.

Dream on, he kept telling himself.

· · ·

Classes finally ended on May 2 and Sooley barely made it to the finish line. How was a guy supposed to study when he wasn’t returning in the fall? How was a guy supposed to stay motivated and think about three more years of college followed by an eternity in grad school when he was about to make millions playing his favorite game? It was simply not possible. Nor could he be bothered studying for final exams.

The break came in the library one night when he was supposed to be preparing for a biology final but was really just killing time and staying away from his dorm room. Murray had it for a couple of hours. Reynard texted and asked how things were going. Sooley stepped outside into the cool night and called him. When Sooley said he was studying for finals, Reynard actually began laughing and couldn’t stop. Sooley indeed felt rather foolish.

“Got an idea, ” Reynard said. “Instead of worrying about final exams, why don’t you ride down with me to Arnie’s place for a few days? He’s got a couple of NBA assistants in town and he thinks it would be a great benefit for you to work out with them and talk about the Combine. I’ll pick you up tomorrow. ”

Without hesitating, Sooley said yes.

He slept late the following morning and waited for Murray to leave. He crammed as much clothing, toiletries, and other assets as possible into a large gym bag and a backpack. When the black SUV rolled to a stop in front of the dorm, Sooley tossed his bags in the hatch and hopped in the back seat.

Leaving campus, it hit him hard that he would probably never come back, and that saddened him almost to the point of tears. He had arrived in August, a broken kid still reeling from the horrors at home, uncertain who in his family was still alive, if anyone. His father’s death had been confirmed but the rest of them were missing. Coach Britt had offered a sympathy scholarship, one that had paid off nicely.

He thought of Beatrice and how disappointed she would be to see him leaving school, but he couldn’t worry about that now. She might understand one day.

He waited until he was at South Beach before he texted Murray: “In South Beach at Arnie’s for a few days. Please don’t tell your mother. All good. ”

To which Murray replied: “Douchebag!! What about final exams? ”

“What about them? ”

“I’m telling Mom. ”

· · ·

Arnie’s impressive spread did not include his own basketball gym, so he borrowed one from a private school around the corner. Late in the afternoon, on the drive to the gym, Reynard explained that Arnie was in Philadelphia meeting with Darrell Whitley of Villanova. If he signed him, the company would have two first-rounders, every agent’s dream.

Van and Herman were shooting baskets and waiting for them. Introductions were made and they seemed delighted to meet Sooley. Van was once an assistant with the Mavericks and Herman once scouted for the Magic. They were somewhere in Arnie’s orbit but their positions were not clear. Van took training seriously, and Arnie had asked him to guide Sooley through half an hour of stretching and slow movements, and to emphasize that the routine was now a part of his daily life. Once he was properly loosened, they began shooting drills. After days off, it felt great to bounce a ball again and take some shots.

During a break, they talked about the Combine. Van thought it was a good idea. Herman had reservations. Arnie had not yet decided whether Sooley should participate. About half of his clients did so, and he was known to be less than impressed with the event.

Each year the top sixty to seventy draft hopefuls were invited to the NBA Draft Combine, a three-day, media-heavy beauty pageant. The players were measured in every way possible: height with shoes and without, weight, body fat, agility, wingspan, speed, hand size, and vertical leaps—both standing and running. There were shooting contests, light scrimmages, lots of interviews and preening for the press.

Sooley was eager to go and strut his stuff. Herman said it wasn’t a good idea. His stock had never been higher. Why run the risk of a bad workout?

The practices continued each day, once in the morning and again late in the afternoon when the gym was available. The cast of coaches and players changed almost daily, as Arnie’s pals came and went. Some lived in the area but most were passing through, always on business related to basketball.

The longer Sooley stayed at Arnie’s sumptuous pad, the longer he wanted to stay. His finals were over, as if they mattered. School was out and Murray, his consultant, was hard at work hauling and stacking boxes for the food bank at $8. 00 an hour.

He ordered a late breakfast and ate by the pool with whoever happened to stay in the house the night before. He met an incredible collection of coaches, scouts, former players, other agents, reps from shoe companies, and quite a few folks whose jobs were not well defined. Reynard whispered that most were hangers-on, guys looking for a cushy job in someone’s entourage.

Arnie was rarely at home. He was on a jet almost every day and relied on his staff to manage the house and the ever-changing lineup of guests.

Sooley really had no place to go. He leaned on Reynard to make sure he was not overstaying his welcome. To which Reynard laughed and said, “Come on, Sooley. You’re a first-rounder. Primos can stay forever. ”

He talked to Murray every day and Miss Ida occasionally. He called his mother every Wednesday morning but had not mustered the courage to tell her about his change in plans. He slept late most mornings, took long walks on the beach, spent at least an hour pumping iron, and worked out with various coaches twice a day. When Arnie popped in for a quick stay-over they talked about the draft and the projections. Sooley, quite naturally, was keen to know where he might land, and thus where he would be living in the years to come. There were thirty teams from coast to coast, and some cities had more appeal than others. Not that it really mattered. The money would be glorious wherever he landed, but it was one thing to be a star for the Celtics or Lakers and something else to play for Sacramento. Like all players, he was dreaming of a lucrative contract with a storied franchise, one in a huge television market.

Arnie talked to general managers and scouts all day long and was still of the opinion that Sooley would go in the middle of the first round. Brooklyn, Denver, and Houston looked likely, but things could change in an instant as the draft neared. Each year brought a bewildering flurry of trades that sent players packing from one team to another.

In early May, Arnie decided that the Combine was not a good idea after all. The scouts had seen enough of Sooley. Indeed, no college player that spring had generated more interest and more footage than him. His speed, quickness, leaping, shooting, were all well-documented, and the Combine would only be more of the same. A bad workout, or one that did not meet lofty expectations, could only harm his stock. Sooley was disappointed but trusted his agent implicitly.

Then Arnie was gone again, off chasing another deal. Sooley begged Murray to hop down for a weekend of parties and girls, but his parents had him handcuffed to his job at the food bank.

Sooley met a girl. Her name was Valerie but she went by Val or Vallie, either one would work. She was one of the girls who hung around the pool in a skimpy bikini and enjoyed showing off her well-toned legs and abs. She said she had played basketball at South Florida until a knee injury ruined her career, and she was quick to show him the scar on her leg, the only blemish on an otherwise perfect body. They spent the first night together in Sooley’s room and had a late breakfast by the pool. The second night they went to her small apartment around the corner and rarely came up for air. She said she was twenty-four, sold real estate, and worked her own hours. By day three, Sooley was thoroughly smitten. Day four was a Wednesday, and he slept late and forgot to call his mother.

If Reynard had been around instead of on a plane, he would have warned Sooley that the girl was probably trouble. Arnie’s universe attracted many young ladies who certainly livened up the parties, but many of them were stalking the money and the big life. Arnie knew better than to get involved. He viewed his home as the entryway for his clients, a transition from the shelter of a campus to the glitzy world of big-dollar entertainment. Once they became professionals they would face more temptations than any college freshman could possibly imagine. He felt obliged to help them get ready.

As lenient as he was, Arnie tried to watch everything. His laid-back staff monitored their guests, took notes, and reported to him. Sex, booze, and pot were to be expected and there was plenty of it, but if the harder stuff was being passed around and consumed Arnie wanted to know about it. He had banned several dealers and bad actors. Same for gambling. If a player of his had a weakness for the spreads and tables, he did not hesitate to get involved.

Arnie was informed that Sooley had a girl and she appeared to be a stalker. He gave the word to watch them as closely as possible.

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