Play Their Hearts Out

by George Dohrmann

  “How many kids invited to the camp can’t get there because they can’t afford it?” Kalish asked.

  “About half in each age group.”

  “How about if I help you with a couple of the guys?” Kalish said. “Reimburse their expenses.”

  “I don’t like the way that sounds,” Keller said. “You’re asking me to tell people to pay and then I will try to pay them later. I would prefer you decide on a number you can help with and give me that up front.”

  “How about fifteen thousand dollars?” Kalish said.

  Keller jumped on it, though he acted as if it was not a big deal.

  Perhaps wanting to test the knowledge of a coach Adidas was so generously subsidizing, Kalish quizzed Keller on AAU programs from around the country.

  “Tell me the names of ten unsigned programs you think I should sign.”

  Keller listed ten quickly, and Kalish confided that he’d already locked up two off the list. Kalish then named prominent players in various age groups, and Keller knew something about all but a few.

  Sensing that Kalish was impressed with him, Keller made his big pitch. “If I get a couple teams in my age group locked, like five or six teams, I will control the market,” Keller said. “If I get some of these [coaches] hooked up, they will remember who did it for them. When I need a favor, when I need a top kid to come to an Adidas camp, I can call in that favor.”

  Keller directed Kalish to a sheet in the folder in front of him. It was a list of the players committed to the Jr. Phenom Camp.

  “I can’t believe you got all these kids. How did you do it?” Kalish said.

  “If I told you how I did it, I wouldn’t be valuable to you anymore,” Keller said.

  “Oh, so that’s how it is?”

  “Yeah, Daren, it’s business.”

  Kalish laughed, but Keller sensed that he was impressed. He repeated his wish to sign other programs consisting of middle school kids and mentioned that it could help Adidas get in with players before the competition.

  “That’s interesting,” Kalish said. “Let me get back to you on that.”

  Keller turned the conversation to another topic of great importance to him. It was widely known that some AAU coaches received money from sports agents for steering players to them. When Keller came up with the totals that would make him a millionaire when Demetrius was through with high school, he included money from directing his kids to a specific agent. Recently, an employee of Arn Tellem, the agent who represented Tracy McGrady and Yao Ming, among others, had watched Team Cal play in San Diego, and Keller had also spoken with other agents. Keller asked Kalish if he had an arrangement with a specific agent, and, if not, did he mind if Keller pursued one.

  “I don’t think it is wrong for you to do that, but for me, ethically, being a part of Adidas, it is not right,” Kalish said. “If you want to get kids for agents, that is part of your business. I am not going to be against that.”

  Enthused by that response, the $15,000, and Kalish’s willingness to consider his plan to go after other young teams, Keller was giddy while waiting to board his return flight to the Inland Empire later that night. “I got more money than I needed, and I bet Daren lets me go out and sign other teams,” he said. “I might do backflips on the plane.”

  Keller’s blissfulness was short-lived, ending when he arrived at his apartment in Fontana and opened his email.

  Dear Team Cal 13u Parents & Players,

  Jordan, Shelly, Tanner and I want to wish the boys all the best in Memphis. We hope that you bring the big one home but more importantly we hope the boys will have a positive learning experience.

  Joe and I worked together for nearly 4 years. We disagreed on many important people handling, coaching and business issues. In the end our differences of opinion became too great, that is why Jordan and I left.

  We will always have great affection for the boys on this team and will continue to pray for their future success.

  God Bless,

  The Finn Family

  From the moment Keller slighted Jordan and John in Baltimore two years earlier, a fantastic blowup between John and Keller seemed inevitable. It was not hard to imagine how the end would come. John would be yelling at Keller, probably about how Keller had showcased Demetrius at the expense of others, and Keller would be cursing at John. Keller would say something insulting about Jordan, perhaps about his struggles to defend quicker guards, and John would reach down and cup Keller’s throat and squeeze. Or Keller would react to the criticism John delivered in a condescending tone and throw a punch up toward John’s chin, hoping to catch him square and shut him up for good. The boys would be there to see it all, of course, another milestone in their eroding childhood.

  Jordan’s time with Team Cal ended with no such climax, just an email, sent June 23, 2004—less than a week before Team Cal was leaving for the Nationals in Memphis.

  The move didn’t come as a shock, but the timing did. Team Cal was one of the favorites to win Nationals after two years of disappointment. Why not put up with Keller for two more weeks and then quit after Nationals?

  After receiving the email, Rome, Sr., Carmen, and other befuddled parents called John to extract the real reason for the move. “It was Jordan’s decision, not mine,” John insisted. “I asked him, ‘What do you want to do?’ And he said, ‘Dad, I’m tired of all of it. I don’t want to play for Coach Joe anymore.’ ” No one who had observed John and Jordan over the years believed him. John had yelled at Jordan for not drinking enough water during a time-out. He had switched residences to make it easier for Jordan to play for Keller. Now he was going to let Jordan be the one to decide when to walk away?

  John could deny it, but it was his decision, rooted in events a month earlier, during the tournament in Columbus, Ohio, that Taron Pickett attended. John was born just outside Columbus, and his mother lived nearby. He had not visited her in two years, and she planned to attend Team Cal’s game on Saturday, the second day of the tournament, along with nearly a dozen friends and relatives. Before the team departed, John told Keller that a large contingent from his family would be attending the game that day. He didn’t say that he expected Jordan to play major minutes, but he made it clear that this was a special trip for his family. It is doubtful, however, that Keller registered how important the weekend was to the Finns. His thoughts were on Adidas, on enhancing his role with the company. John Finn’s mother? How could he worry about her when Pickett was flying to Columbus to see the team for the first time at a major event?

  On Friday night, Pickett and Keller headed to P. F. Chang’s for dinner. On the drive, Keller asked Pickett a loaded question: “Who was the best player you saw today?” It was a question Keller had asked a hundred people after a hundred of Team Cal’s games. The only safe answer was “Demetrius Walker,” but Pickett hadn’t known Keller long enough to realize that honesty was not a virtue he held in high regard.

  “I’d say Brandon Ham,” Pickett said, referring to a five-foot-eight guard from Ohio.

  “What!” Keller shouted. “Are you crazy? He’s not even top fifty in my book.”

  Pickett made his argument, ticking off Ham’s attributes on his fingers. Ham could handle the ball, could penetrate, worked hard on defense, and showed a mid-range jump shot that most young players lacked. Pickett repeated that last compliment, adding, “That is something I haven’t seen in Demetrius’s game.”

  “Really?” Keller said over and over. “Really?” His face was white, bleached by disbelief. “Taron, I thought you knew basketball.”

  “Joe, that’s just my opinion. I didn’t say he was the best player in the country. I just said that he was the best player I saw today.”

  As they walked into the restaurant, Keller ended the discussion. “Taron, I understand that that is your opinion, but you are wrong!”

  The following day, as Jordan’s grandmother watched from the sidelines, Keller set out to show Taron just how wrong he was. With 6:40 left in an 88–12
blowout of a team from Cincinnati, Keller reinserted Demetrius into the game, subbing out Jordan. Demetrius immediately commanded the ball on the right side and then penetrated before pulling up for a 15-footer, banking it off the glass and in. It was a perfect mid-range jump shot, and as it went through the net, Keller pointed across the court at Taron.

  “Did you just see that?” Pickett said to me. “He had D take that jumper just to show me he had a mid-range game, because of what I said about Brandon Ham last night.”

  Seated on the opposite side of the court next to his mother, John found no humor in watching Keller run play after play for Demetrius, freeing him for the types of shots Pickett lauded Ham for the previous night. Jordan hardly played in the first half, but John assumed he would be on the court for the entirety of the second, if only because Keller would sit Demetrius, Aaron, and others to save their energy for later games. He also counted on Keller remembering how important the game was to him and his family. But for the last 6:40, Jordan remained on the bench.

  John did everything he could to avoid focusing on the game. He chatted with his mother; he called Tanner, his younger son, over and had him sit next to him; he talked briefly with a few of his mother’s friends. What he didn’t do was look toward the bench, where his son sat with a dour look on his face and where Keller barked out plays for Demetrius, who had already scored 30 points and dunked four times.

  At the final buzzer, when the teams met to shake hands and Keller wandered over to where Pickett sat, John stood up in the bleachers and turned his back to the court. The significance of this gesture would emerge later, after he sent the email. He had turned his back, once and for all, on Joe Keller.

  After sending the email, John dropped off Jordan’s uniforms at Keller’s apartment. He claimed he told Keller only “Best of luck at Nationals.”

  Keller remembered that meeting differently. “John told me, ‘You embarrassed me in front of my family.’ ”

  John initially downplayed the malice behind his decision, saying over and over that it had been Jordan’s decision, but when pressed he finally said, “Because leaving now will hurt Joe the most.”

  In subsequent conversations, John sounded at different times like a responsible father, a disillusioned dad obsessed with featuring his son, and a businessman who’d been outsmarted by Joe Keller. The last was a relatively new persona. As Keller’s stature rose in the grassroots world, it dawned on John how easily it could have been him that put Team Cal together and landed that Adidas contract. Like Keller after Pat Barrett had fleeced him years earlier, John finally saw the business side of the grassroots game. “I learned a lot from Joe about how it all works,” he said.

  John hoped Keller would be distraught over losing his best 3-point shooter, but he was unaffected. “John thinks I am going to be screwed without Jordan, but I have one big thing going for me: Shoe Company Money. With that, I can buy a hundred kids as good as Jordan.”

  But not in time for the Nationals.

  Roberto was now the team’s only pure shooter, and he rarely got the green light from Keller. Gary and Justin could also shoot, but neither had shown Jordan’s ability to make three or more in a row. Still, Keller was unconcerned—and if Coach Joe wasn’t worried, why should Demetrius be? “I’m really bummed about Jordan, but he’s got a crazy dad, so what can you do? Parents nowadays, they all think their kid should be the number-1 focus.”

  Demetrius began worrying, however, a few days later. During practice just before the team left for Nationals, Terran fell to the floor after being kneed in the thigh. Instead of icing the injury, as Soderberg instructed, Terran went home and soaked in a hot bath. His thigh swelled so rapidly that he had to be rushed to the hospital, where doctors made a three-inch incision to relieve the inflammation.

  When the team departed for Memphis, Terran remained in the hospital, and the confidence built during the victorious runs in St. Louis and Columbus had diminished.

  “Before Terran went down, I would have said that we will win Nationals for sure,” Keller said. “Now I’m not so sure.”

  16

  Demetrius Walker

  Am I still the number one player in the nation?” Demetrius asked.

  A few minutes before the first game of elimination play of Nationals in Memphis, just before Team Cal took the floor against the Virginia Panthers, Demetrius stood beside the stands at the Nike Center, an athletic complex adjacent to a Nike distribution warehouse southeast of downtown.

  “Coach Joe says I’m not number one no more,” he said. “If I’m not number one, who is?”

  Keller had told Demetrius he lost his ranking after Team Cal’s final game of pool play, a victory over the Pueblo County (Colorado) Hornets. The team won its first three games by an average of 28 points, and Soderberg was enthused by their start. The boys were building confidence and continuity, he said, and they were learning not to rely only on Demetrius. Keller, however, could focus only on what he perceived to be a sluggish start by his star. “It is fucking Nationals, and D decides to take a nap.”

  Demetrius had shown little concern for the Hoop Scoop rankings before, but Keller made it seem as if his future success hinged on maintaining his number 1 ranking. He didn’t have access to a computer or a subscription to The Hoop Scoop; he couldn’t just sign in and confirm his ranking. Keller’s words scared him, and so he asked a few parents if what Coach Joe said about his ranking was true.

  “Sometimes he says stuff like that because he thinks that will get me hyped. But I am already hyped. It’s Nationals,” Demetrius said. “I just wasn’t hyped earlier ’cuz we were playing teams that were terrible. If I lost my ranking ’cuz of that, well, that’s whack.”

  The game against the Panthers began like most others, with Aaron controlling the opening tip and Team Cal grabbing an early lead. But the Panthers’ coaches had scouted Team Cal during pool play and had a pair of bigger post players bang Aaron and frustrate him with holds and jabs. Lamar Little, a lanky forward, did the same to Demetrius. The moment Demetrius crossed half-court, Little put a hand on his chest, letting him know he was there. As soon as Demetrius received a pass, Little bumped him or grabbed a handful of jersey. It was just enough to make Demetrius uncomfortable, and he repeatedly tossed the ball back out to the guards to reset the offense, hoping to get the ball back in a better spot. Little was shorter but quick, and he jockeyed with Demetrius sufficiently that his drives to the hoop took longer to develop, allowing other defenders to move over and help. Demetrius scored only two baskets in the first half, both on breakaway layups, and it was clear that someone had to pick up the scoring. Aaron was the likeliest candidate, but he picked up two quick fouls and was stymied by the Panthers’ physical play.

  The Panthers’ offensive strategy was simple: Guards Derek Staton and Dominique Palmer pulled up for 3-point shots whenever they touched the ball. Staton buried his first shot from beyond NBA 3-point range, putting the Panthers up 8–7 four minutes into the game. They remained in the lead or within a basket until there were two minutes left in the first period. It was then that Keller sent Roberto to the scorer’s table.

  Most of the boys bounded into the game, but not Roberto. He strolled onto the court as if he had been woken from a deep sleep. He pointed to Rome to let him know he would be the player coming out and made sure to slap his hand as they crossed paths. Roberto then wiped the bottoms of his shoes and licked the fingers on his right hand. “Play your game, son. You see it,” Bruce yelled from the stands. The players rarely acknowledged their parents’ remarks from the crowd, but Roberto nodded his head, confirming that he saw what Bruce did: All the attention given to Aaron and Demetrius opened up the Panthers’ defense for him.

  With Team Cal clinging to a 14–12 lead, Roberto went to work. He stole the ball from Little and scored on a layup to up the lead to 4. He and Justin double-teamed Staton on the Panthers’ next possession, leading to a turnover and breakaway layup. When Team Cal had the ball next, Roberto drove on the rig
ht and pulled up for a 10-footer to make it 20–13. The Panthers regained some momentum early in the second quarter with two scores, but then Roberto answered with two straight baskets to make it 26–19.

  In the second half, a trend emerged: Roberto would push Team Cal to what seemed a comfortable lead—such as 41–26 with a minute left in the third quarter—but then Staton or Palmer would connect from an unimaginable distance, keeping the Panthers in the game. After 3-pointers by Palmer and then Staton cut the lead to 47–41 early in the fourth quarter, Keller picked up a chair and slammed it to the ground, for which he got a technical foul. When a Panther made the free throw, it seemed to swing the momentum, and the Panthers fans stood and clapped. But then Roberto deflected a pass by Palmer on the other end that led to a score and later finished off a miss by Demetrius. A possession later, he knocked down an 18-footer, after which he pointed up to Bruce in the stands, a nod to his teacher.

  After that basket, the Panthers’ coach reluctantly adjusted his defense, and that opened up the game for Demetrius. After Staton hit a deep 3-pointer with 5:26 left, trimming Team Cal’s lead to 53–48, Demetrius provided one of those breathtaking moments that seemed to come at least once a game. As Aaron tossed up a shot, Demetrius swatted Little’s hand off him, ducked between him and another player, and then leaped in the air, catching Aaron’s shot as it bounced off the rim and slamming it through the hoop in one violent motion.

  “My God,” another team’s coach uttered.

  As Demetrius trotted back on defense, he smiled widely, as if even he was surprised by the extent of his gifts. It wasn’t the winning shot, but it killed the Panthers’ hopes. The game ended 66–59 for Team Cal.

  “That number twenty-three is special, but we wrapped him up most of the game,” the Panthers’ coach, Kevin McHee, said. “The difference was number one [Roberto]. I scouted them during pool play and I didn’t even notice him.”