Foul Trouble

by John Feinstein

  Danny allowed himself a smile—his dad didn’t hand out all that many compliments.

  “Call and let me know what happens with Kelleher, okay?”

  Danny nodded and headed out to the courts.

  He found Kelleher talking to two big-time coaches—Tom Izzo of Michigan State and Jamie Dixon of Pittsburgh. “Danny, I won’t introduce you to these guys because I think that would be a violation of some kind of NCAA rule,” Kelleher said.

  “More like about ten NCAA rules,” Izzo said, smiling. “If I could talk to him, I’d tell Danny I really admire the way he runs a team.”

  “And I’d tell him I’m willing to bet he’s a lot better player than he knows he is,” Dixon said. “But, of course, I can’t talk to him.”

  “Too bad,” Kelleher said. “I bet he’d really like to hear all that.”

  So, Danny thought, his dad was right, people were noticing him. “Yeah,” he said, “I would definitely like to hear all that.” He turned to Kelleher. “You think they mean what they’re not saying or is that just polite coach-speak?”

  “Hey, Bobby, have you ever known me to be polite?” Izzo said.

  “Absolutely not,” Kelleher said. “But Jamie is polite.”

  “I never tell kids what they want to hear,” Dixon said. “I tell them the truth. But, of course, right now I’m not talking to a recruit. In fact, I’m not even talking to you because the rules say I can’t talk to the media about specific players.”

  “What don’t the rules say?” Danny said, still looking at Kelleher.

  “I think breathing is allowed,” Kelleher said.

  “Not on Sundays,” Izzo said. “But you didn’t hear me say that.”

  “Okay,” Kelleher said. “I probably should get Danny out of here before you guys are on probation for five years and Danny is ineligible until 2020.”

  They all laughed, and both coaches gave Danny a friendly nod as he and Kelleher turned to go. No doubt, he thought, that’s a violation too.

  “Good guys?” he asked Kelleher as they walked down the hall in the direction of the back door.

  “Very good guys,” Kelleher said.

  “Even if they’re blatant rule breakers?” Danny said, laughing.

  “Yeah. Exactly,” Kelleher said.

  They walked through the searing heat to Kelleher’s car. He put the air-conditioning on full-blast as soon as the engine was on. “You okay on time?” he asked.

  “I’m supposed to meet Alex Mayer at Houston’s over at the mall at twelve thirty.”

  “You guys friends?” Kelleher asked.

  “Just met the other day,” Danny said. “But I like him.”

  “There’s a pretty good pizza place at the far end of the mall,” Kelleher said. “We probably won’t run into many of the camp people there. I can get some pizza, and if you don’t want to eat yet, you can get soda or coffee or something.”

  Pizza sounded good to Danny. He had only eaten a bagel for breakfast since they were playing so early. “I can probably eat twice,” he said. “We don’t play again until seven.”

  “You have that media training thing this afternoon, right?”

  “Yeah, at three thirty.”

  “One piece of advice: Whatever the guys they bring in tell you to do, always do the opposite.”

  Danny laughed. “You aren’t a big fan of the people running this camp, are you?” he said.

  “I’m not a big fan of anyone who tries to buy kids off,” Kelleher said. “And that’s what these guys do.”

  He ran a yellow light and turned into the mall.

  While they found a parking spot, Danny sent Mayer a text saying he would meet him at Houston’s rather than at the gym.

  Kelleher was right about the pizza. It reminded Danny of Regina’s, his favorite place in Boston. They ordered slices at the counter and then walked out into the mall and found a quiet place to sit.

  Once they had both taken a couple bites of pizza, Kelleher got straight to the point. “What’s the deal with Terrell?” he asked. “Does he get high a lot?”

  Danny wasn’t exactly shocked by the question, but he wasn’t really prepared for it. “Terrell doesn’t get high,” he said finally. “That’s not who he is.”

  “Well, then, who was that I saw in the hotel the other day?”

  Danny paused. His instinct was to like Kelleher and to trust him. But he was still a reporter.

  “Is this on the record?” he asked. “Are you writing this?”

  Kelleher smiled and shook his head. “No. What you need to understand about me is that I’m not looking to write a story that makes Terrell look bad. That’s not what I do. What I’m trying to do, maybe months from now, is write a story that explains what the culture of stardom does to young athletes. My sense is that Terrell’s in a very delicate place right now. He’s a late bloomer, so people are lining up to get a piece of him. He’s got a lot of options being thrown at him, and not all of them are good. Not all of them are legal. That’s the story. A rising high school senior smoking pot is not a story. It’s an issue for him, but it’s not a story for me.”

  “So if I talk to you now, what I say won’t show up in your paper six months from now?”

  “No, it won’t. I need information so I can go and get more information. I need to know who the good guys are and who the bad guys are. I’m pretty sure I’ve got most of them pegged, but I need to be certain.”

  Danny nodded, trying to take in everything Kelleher was saying. “Still, why ask me?”

  “Because people will be talking to you and your dad and Terrell in ways they won’t talk to me. And because you seem like you’re trying to keep Terrell out of trouble. So I’m wondering who looks like trouble to you.”

  “Well, that guy Eddie J. is bad news,” Danny said.

  Kelleher smiled. “Danny, have you heard? Man landed on the moon.”

  It took Danny a second to get the joke. When he did, he nodded. “Look, Mr. Kelleher…”

  “Bobby. My dad is Mr. Kelleher.”

  “Okay, Bobby. You seem to know more than I do, really, but…Tommasino is clearly annoyed that my dad isn’t falling in line. And that agent he hangs around with—”

  “Paul Judson.”

  “Yeah—him. Some of the players said he offered to be their ‘educational consultant’ and help them pick the right schools. Which feels suspicious.”

  “Very.”

  “And my dad says some of the coaches have their hands out.”

  Kelleher grunted. “Not some—most.”

  “Huh. And I’ll tell you what, those TV guys aren’t real impressive, either.”

  “They don’t worry me so much. They’re full of themselves but mostly harmless. Now, there are some big names at the networks who I think get involved some of the time. But no one much cares what these guys think.” Kelleher shrugged, then continued. “Okay, none of those bad guys surprise me. I need to know if there are any good guys.”

  “My dad’s a good guy. And I like that scout Konchalski. Terrell’s a good guy. There are some guys on other teams who I think are good guys.”

  “You sure about Terrell? What about his pals, those guys he hangs out with?”

  “ ‘The dudes.’ They hang out with him,” Danny corrected, remembering Terrell’s comment from the night before. “Until the other day, I’d have said they’re just annoying groupies who want Terrell around to help them get girls. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  “My guess is their interest in Terrell goes beyond getting girls,” Kelleher said. “ ‘The dudes’? Where does that come from?”

  “It’s just what I call them because they think everybody’s name is dude.”

  Kelleher laughed. “I like it.”

  “But they never offered Terrell drugs before that I know of—I think that came from Eddie J.”

  Kelleher nodded thoughtfully. “You mentioned kids on other teams. Who?”

  “Alex Mayer, the kid from Mississippi. D’Andre Dunigan, the guard w
e just played against last night.”

  “Hmm. Those are two highly recruited kids. What about Michael Jordan?”

  “Don’t know him. But he is driving a car here that someone loaned him or gave him.”

  Kelleher’s eyebrows went up. “That’s certainly interesting. I’m a little surprised you mentioned Dunigan. He’s supposed to be an entourage guy.”

  “You look at Terrell from the outside, you’d think he’s an entourage guy too,” Danny said. “But he’s not. And Dunigan made a point of warning us about Eddie J. But I talked to him for all of two minutes.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got pretty good instincts,” Kelleher conceded. “You want another slice?” He was pointing at Danny’s empty plate. Danny was meeting Mayer and Jordan for lunch in fifteen minutes. Still, it was really good pizza.

  “Absolutely,” he said.

  TEN

  After a quick shower, Terrell headed back out into the gym and saw Michael Jordan and Alex Mayer waving at him from across the court. They were warming up for their game but clearly not all that focused on it yet.

  “What’s up?” he said, walking over to the two of them. “Don’t you guys play in about five minutes?”

  “Yeah, we do,” Jordan said. “Coach says we could play with one hand tied behind our backs and win by twenty.”

  Terrell knew for a fact that Coach Wilcox would never describe any opponent that way. Everyone was different—apparently.

  “Hey, we’re meeting your boy Wilcox for lunch at twelve thirty,” Jordan said. “Why don’t you come?”

  Terrell wavered. The dudes had been bugging him to hang out this afternoon, but he didn’t know if he could stand listening to Maurice tell him—again—that he was sorry about the other day, that they were just trying to show him a good time.

  “Got a little out of hand, I guess,” Maurice had said.

  “Ya think?” Terrell had answered.

  “Come on, T-man, you know we’ve got your back. Don’t start listening to your white-boy friends just because of one little incident.”

  “Maurice,” Terrell had said. “You’re white, remember?”

  “You know what I mean, dude.”

  Terrell did, kind of. And the dudes had been his first friends in Lexington. But lunch with someone else sounded pretty good right now.

  “Well, I was going to go back to the hotel and order some room service before that three-thirty media thing.… ”

  “Come on,” Jordan said. “No way you can get into trouble hanging with us.”

  Terrell wondered what they knew about the other day. But he didn’t want to ask. “Okay,” he finally said to Jordan. “How do I get there?”

  “Meet us in the locker room at twelve twenty,” Jordan said. “I’ve got a car.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, man. Don’t sweat it. See you in a couple hours.”

  Terrell nodded. But suddenly this lunch didn’t feel all that safe, either. Maybe Danny was right. Maybe everyone in the camp was on the take.

  He found a seat in the bleachers and settled in to see if Michael Jordan was as good as his name.

  Danny thanked Kelleher for the pizza and walked to the other end of the mall for his second lunch. Alex Mayer and Michael Jordan were already seated at a round table in the back of the restaurant, and they weren’t alone. Terrell was there, along with a man he hadn’t seen before. The man stood up when Danny approached and introduced himself as Ray Leach.

  “Enjoyed watching you play this week,” he said, shaking hands. “I’m hoping you guys will end up playing Alex and Michael’s team on Sunday.”

  It hadn’t occurred to Danny that the Rebels could end up playing against the Riverboats in the knockout rounds. He’d been so focused on just trying to get from one day to the next that the weekend had felt light-years away.

  “We’ve got a lot of work to do before Sunday,” he replied, sliding into the empty seat at the table. “Terrell, I thought you had other plans,” he said.

  “The guys invited me,” Terrell said. “I figured you-all would keep me out of trouble.”

  “That remains to be seen,” Danny said, drawing a too hearty laugh from Ray Leach.

  Jordan hadn’t looked up from his cell phone when he arrived, but now he put it down and explained—sort of—who Ray Leach was. “Ray’s a friend of our coach,” he said. “He helps out a lot. Since we don’t play until the afternoon Sunday, he’s got us tickets to the Yankees game Saturday night.”

  Danny smiled. “You’re pretty sure you’re going to play on Sunday, huh, Michael?”

  “Oh, they’ll play,” Ray said. “So will you. Remember, if you make the semis, you play Sunday, win or lose. You’re welcome to come see the Yankees Saturday night if you want. I can get more tickets, no problem.”

  Danny loved baseball. He did not, however, love the idea of Ray Leach. He gave off the same sort of vibe as Paul Judson. “So, Ray,” he said, “who do you work for?”

  Leach gave him a smarmy smile. “Everyone,” he said. “And no one. Really, I just work for guys like you and Michael and Alex. I try to make sure you get involved with the right agent when the time comes, with the right shoe company, with the right college, with the right money manager—which sounds ridiculous now but won’t in a few years. I went through it all myself a long time ago, so I try to keep guys from going in the wrong direction.”

  “Ray’s a good dude,” Jordan said. “You can trust him.”

  Danny resisted the urge to say, “Yeah, right.” Instead, he asked Leach where he had played.

  “I went to Rutgers,” Leach answered. He shook his head sadly. “Got hurt as a freshman. Knee. That’s when I found out I didn’t have nearly as many friends as I thought. That’s why when I graduated I decided I wanted to try to make sure younger guys didn’t have an experience like mine.”

  “So you graduated from Rutgers, even though you got hurt?”

  Leach shook his head. “No, I finished at Six Flags.”

  “Isn’t that a theme park?”

  “It’s also a college in Arizona.”

  Danny made a mental note to look that one up.

  The waitress came and took their order. When Danny ordered only soup, Ray Leach waved a hand at him. “Order whatever you want, Danny,” he said. “It’s on me.”

  “I’m okay,” Danny said. “I had kind of a snack right after we played.”

  Alex and Terrell ordered hamburgers. Michael Jordan ordered soup, shrimp, and the roast beef platter.

  When the waitress was gone, Leach leaned forward and took Danny’s arm. “I’ve heard you’re thinking D-3,” he said. “You’re a lot better than that, my man. I’ve talked to a bunch of coaches here, big-time coaches, who think you can play for them.”

  Terrell clapped Danny on the shoulder. “That’s what I’ve been telling him too. But he won’t listen to me.”

  “I always listen to you,” Danny said. “Just not to some of the guys you hang out with.”

  Leach leaned back, smiling, clearly thinking he had gotten their attention. “I can put them in touch with you if you want.”

  “If they want to contact me, they can just go through my father.… ”

  “Of course they can,” Leach said. “And they will. But if you go through me, it works better.”

  “How so?” Terrell asked, a split second before Danny could.

  “Just does,” Leach said. “Like Mike said, you can trust me.”

  Jordan, who was back to looking at his cell phone, looked up and nodded. “It’s true,” he said. “You can.”

  Mayer hadn’t said a word.

  Leach turned his attention to Terrell. “I can help you too—but in different ways. You don’t need any help with coaches, but I can steer you clear of some of the bottom feeders who will try to make you offers. You need some guidance there.”

  That was touching, Danny thought. Leach wanted to help Terrell.

  “Guidance, huh?” Terrell said, smiling. “Is that what I
need?”

  Danny smirked, pleased to see that Terrell wasn’t buying this. His first instinct was to tell Leach exactly what he thought of his offers of help and guidance. But then he wondered if Bobby Kelleher knew about Ray Leach. If he didn’t, he should. So he decided to play along for the moment. “Why don’t you give us your card,” he said. “In case we need anything.”

  He saw Terrell and Mayer both flash him looks of semihorror.

  Then his soup arrived. It wasn’t very appealing, either.

  Danny and Terrell got a ride back to the gym with Jordan and Mayer. Danny was relieved to find that Leach had his own car. During the short ride, Jordan kept going on about everything Leach was doing for him.

  Mayer, who had been almost silent throughout lunch, finally couldn’t contain himself any longer. “Michael, the guy’s a sleaze bag,” he said. “Everything he’s doing is against the rules. Hell, we probably violated half a dozen rules just by letting him buy us lunch. He could get you into big trouble.”

  Jordan waved him off. “Come on, Alex, don’t be like that,” he said. “Everybody does this stuff, and you know it. Terrell, tell him about all the guys hanging out with you.”

  “They aren’t all bad,” Terrell said. “Just some of them.”

  “What’d you think of Leach?” Danny asked.

  “Not very much,” Terrell said.

  “Yeah. I don’t think I need his kind of help, either,” Danny said.

  Jordan glanced in the rearview mirror and gave Danny a patronizing smile. “No offense, but who’s recruiting you? Vermont? BU? Or maybe you’re a really good student so you’ve got the Ivy League looking at you. But you think you’re ever gonna play in the NBA? Ever gonna have a shoe deal? A billboard? No. But I will. Terrell will too. It’s different for us.”

  Danny looked at Alex, who clearly didn’t want to argue with his teammate. Terrell rolled his eyes and looked out the window. And really, what did he care what Michael Jordan did or said? But Danny could never quite resist a fight. “You’re right. You and Terrell are different from me. But every year there are a dozen high school players just like you. And they don’t all end up with billboards. Most of them end up like Lenny Cooke.”