The Final Four

by Paul Volponi

  THE FINAL FOUR

  THE FINAL FOUR

  PAUL

  VOLPONI

  VIKING

  An Imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  VIKING

  Published by Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

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  First published in 2012 by Viking, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Copyright © Paul Volponi, 2012

  All rights reserved

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

  Volponi, Paul.

  The Final Four / by Paul Volponi.

  p. cm.

  Summary: Four players at the Final Four of the NCAA basketball tournament struggle with the

  pressures of tournament play and the expectations of society at large.

  ISBN: 978-1-101-56695-4

  [1. Basketball—Fiction. 2. NCAA Basketball Tournament—Fiction.

  3. Conduct of life—Fiction. 4. African Americans—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.V8877Fi 2012

  [Fic]—dc23

  2011011587

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This text is dedicated to the lifeblood of college basketball: the players, who are all too often viewed as the product instead of the source.

  Special Thanks:

  Joy Peskin

  Regina Hayes

  Don Weisberg

  Rosemary Stimola

  Leila Sales

  Abigail Powers

  David Cipollone

  Senad Ahmetovic

  April Volponi

  Sabrina Volponi

  Jim Cocoros

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: Malcolm McBride

  Chapter Two: Roko Bacic

  Chapter Three: Crispin Rice

  Chapter Four: Michael Jordan

  Chapter Five: Malcolm McBride

  Chapter Six: Roko Bacic

  Chapter Seven: Crispin Rice

  Chapter Eight: Michael Jordan

  Chapter Nine: Malcolm McBride

  Chapter Ten: Roko Bacic

  Chapter Eleven: Crispin Rice

  Chapter Twelve: Michael Jordan

  Chapter Thirteen: Malcolm McBride

  Chapter Fourteen: Roko Bacic

  Chapter Fifteen: Crispin Rice

  Chapter Sixteen: Michael Jordan

  Chapter Seventeen: Malcolm McBride

  Chapter Eighteen: Roko Bacic

  Chapter Nineteen: Crispin Rice

  Chapter Twenty: Michael Jordan

  Chapter Twenty-One: Malcolm McBride

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Roko Bacic

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Crispin Rice

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Michael Jordan

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Malcolm McBride

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Roko Bacic

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Crispin Rice

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Michael Jordan

  “I am sure that no man can derive more pleasure

  from money or power than I do from seeing a pair of

  basketball goals in some out of the way place.”

  —James Naismith, who invented the game of basketball

  in Springfield, Massachusetts, in 1891

  SATURDAY, MARCH 31, 7:13 P.M. (CT)

  THE LOUISIANA SUPERDOME

  Just because the game clock has stopped, don’t believe for a single second that the hearts of the ten basketball players on the court have quit pounding.

  It’s not possible.

  That same intense rhythm beats inside the chests of the players and coaches on the sidelines for the Michigan State Spartans and the Trojans of Troy University.

  Only 6.9 seconds remain in regulation time, with underdog Troy leading 64–62.

  The Spartans’ eighteen-year-old freshman point guard sensation Malcolm McBride glares into the eyes of his defender, Roko Bacic, with Malcolm clad in green and Roko in cardinal red.

  “Don’t even think you can stop me from scoring,” says Malcolm. “This is the real world we’re living in, not a damn storybook.”

  Then Malcolm kisses the fingers on his left hand, before touching them to the tattooed portrait on his right arm. The name TRISHA is arched above her carefully detailed face indelibly inked into Malcolm’s black skin.

  “If I don’t stop you, maybe you’ll trip over your big mouth,” says Roko, whose teammates call him “Red Bull” for his mop of curly red hair and boundless energy.

  Malcolm has earned a tag, too—“One and Done.”

  But it’s not something anyone really calls him to his face.

  The media gave him that name during his senior year in high school, when Malcolm declared he’d enter the NBA draft as soon as he was eligible—after one year of college ball.

  As a stripe-shirted referee hands the basketball to a player with the word STATE across his chest, Malcolm and Roko begin their fight for position.

  Drenched in sweat, their arms and legs slide off of one another’s—grappling, pushing, and pulling to the limits the refs will allow.

  The Spartans have only until the count of five to inbound the ball. And as the referee’s hand slices the air for the fourth time, Malcolm finally shakes free.

  He receives the inbounds pass, restarting the game clock.

  In a millisecond, Malcolm sizes up Red Bull, who defends him tightly, denying the opportunity for a deep three-point basket to win.

  So Malcolm makes his move to the hoop. First, he stutter-steps, disrupting Roko’s balance. Then he explodes to his right, before cutting the angle sharply left.

  With little more than a second remaining, Malcolm stops his dribble on a dime, driving his legs into the slatted wooden floor.

  Then Malcolm’s wiry six-foot-three-inch frame takes air.

  Red Bull shadows him all the way, just a fraction behind.

  At the height of his leap, Malcolm focuses his sight on the rim as Red Bull’s outstretched hands flash across his face.

  Despite the strain in his muscles, Malcolm’s touch is light. And he releases the rock like a feather onto a breeze.

  Neither Malcolm nor Red Bull sees the shot go in as their bodies tumble to the court. But they both hear the clean swish of the ball through the nett
ing before the Louisiana Superdome explodes in sound, and the clock is reset for overtime.

  From that morning’s national newspaper:

  CINDERELLA CRASHES FINAL FOUR BALL

  NEW ORLEANS, La. — Yes, Cinderella has arrived at the Big Dance in the Big Easy. The Trojans of Troy University—the Cinderella story of the Men’s NCAA Basketball Tournament—will take on the heavily favored Michigan State Spartans in the first semifinal at the Final Four, tonight at 5:07 p.m. (CT). The nearly 56,000 fans expected to fill the Louisiana Superdome will represent the largest crowd for which the Trojans, whose home arena seats a mere 4,000, have ever played.

  “March Madness” is what the NCAA Tournament is called, and for good reason. Few pundits could have predicted that Troy, which had never won an NCAA Tournament game before, would still be dancing in this single-elimination tournament that has so far sent more than 60 teams packing over nearly three weeks of competition. In comparison, Michigan State, a perennial contender for the title, has been crowned National Champion twice and reached the Final Four on several other occasions.

  Controversial freshman and soon to be NBA draft–bound Malcolm McBride, who made national headlines yesterday by criticizing the NCAA and stating that the players putting on this tournament should receive part of the over $700 million generated by it, is the Spartans’ leading scorer and top trash-talker.

  “This isn’t even going to be a game. It’s going to be more like a workout on national TV,” said McBride, who hails from the tough Brewster-Douglass Housing Projects on the East Side of Detroit. “The clock’s going to strike midnight early for these Cinderella Troy boys. The glass slipper doesn’t fit. They’re going home as pumpkins. And I’ll tell them that on the court to their faces, too.”

  Junior Roko Bacic is the Trojans’ high-energy leader. Born and raised in the war-torn and rebuilding country of Croatia along the coast of Eastern Europe, Bacic has experienced his share of intense battles as well. Bacic figures to guard McBride one-on-one most of the night. How will he respond to the brash freshman’s trash talking?

  “He has freedom of speech. That’s very special. It’s one of the things I love most about the U.S.,” said Bacic. “But I also find [McBride] to be pretty annoying. He can say whatever he wants. Now he just has to back it up on the basketball court, or look very foolish.”

  An American film and music buff, the redheaded Croatian credits his study of entertainment with helping him to better learn the English language and its accents.

  “Even if McBride scores a big basket or two,” said Bacic, before slipping into his best Arnold Schwarzenegger voice from The Terminator, “on defense, I’ll be back.”

  The last time the Spartans and Trojans met for stakes this high was in the Trojan War of Greek mythology, when the Spartans left a huge wooden horse outside the gates of Troy. Believing the gift to be a sign that the war was over, the Trojans brought the horse into their city. That night, the Spartan soldiers who had hidden inside the horse opened the gates of Troy so their army could burn the city down.

  Earlier this week, Troy coach Alvin Kennedy showed his players Hollywood’s version of that mythical war in the movie Troy.

  “My team loved it,” said Kennedy. “They’ll be sure not to fall for any trick plays now. They even liked the fact that the Spartans won in the movie, because together as a team, we’re ready to rewrite history.”

  In the nightcap at 7:47 (CT), the North Carolina Tar Heels and Duke Blue Devils, a pair of traditional blue bloods with nine National Championships and over 30 Final Four appearances between them, will compete for the right to take on the Troy/Michigan State winner in the championship game on Monday night.

  Coach: Alvin Kennedy (5th year)

  Team Colors: cardinal red, black and silver

  Mascot: T-Roy (Trojan soldier)

  Summary: Surprise winners of nine straight games, team chemistry is the Trojans’ strong suit. Coach Alvin Kennedy has his players believing in themselves and not acting like tourists at the Final Four. For the Trojans to win, Roko “Red Bull” Bacic, an emerging pro prospect, must find a way to contain All-American Malcolm McBride. Undersized center Crispin Rice must stay out of foul trouble against Michigan State’s enormous frontcourt. Sweet-shooting Aaron Boyce, a New Orleans native, must show the same resolve that helped him outlast Hurricane Katrina in the Superdome when he faces the defensive-minded Spartans.

  Coach: Eddie Barker (14th year)

  Team Colors: green and white

  Mascot: Sparty (Spartan soldier)

  Summary: The Spartans have been here before—the Trojans have not—and succeeded under coach Eddie Barker. If Barker can control the shot selection and attitude of freshman point guard Malcolm McBride, a sure lottery pick in June’s NBA draft, the Spartans should cruise here. “Grizzly Bear” Cousins and “Baby Bear” Wilkins are no Yogi and Boo-Boo, and should devour rebounds against the smaller Trojans. The Michigan State bench is considerably stronger as well, even in name, boasting a junior reserve named Michael Jordan. Even Sparty, the foam-rubber-costumed mascot, is taller and more buff than the Trojans’ T-Roy.

  7:15 P.M. (CT)

  ON A CABLE SPORTS NETWORK PROVIDING

  LIVE UPDATES FROM THE FINAL FOUR

  Announcer: Welcome back to Sports News ’Round the Clock. Tonight we are truly all things Final Four. Just moments ago, Michigan State freshman Malcolm McBride, who all year has declared himself to be “one and done” as he awaits entry into the NBA, buried a clutch shot at the buzzer, sending the first semifinal game at the Final Four into overtime. The dramatic basket kept the Spartans’ hopes for another national title alive and put another inconceivable celebration by the underdog Trojans of Troy on hold.

  It has seemingly been all about Malcolm McBride for the past thirty-two hours or so. Now, in case you missed it, here are selected highlights of yesterday’s question-and-answer session with the media and a trio of Michigan State players. Nearly all of the questions, of course, are aimed at the outspoken McBride. His lightning-rod responses have since drawn a thunderstorm of criticism from defenders of the current college basketball system and a swift counterstatement by his school. And that thunderstorm continues to reverberate tonight as he leads the Spartans into overtime in the Superdome.

  On screen, Malcolm McBride sits between two of his teammates, John “Grizzly Bear” Cousins and DeJuan “Baby Bear” Wilkins, at a long table on a raised platform. Each player has a microphone set before him and a folded piece of cardboard displaying his name. The young men are framed by the backdrop of a blue curtain embossed with NCAA in large white lettering.

  Reporter: Malcolm, you’ve previously stated that you only chose college because of the NBA’s current rule of not allowing players to enter the league until a year after their high school class graduates. As I recall, you even referred to it once as “being held hostage.” But now that you’ve spent a season at Michigan State, have you grown from the college experience? And will you be back next year, or will this truly be a “one and done” situation for you?

  Malcolm: I basically came here a grown man, with all I’d seen and been through. No school is going to teach me more than that. I guess a year out of the projects helped to keep me alive. But my parents still live there. So my plan is to go pro as quick as I can, enter the NBA draft, and cash that fat paycheck for me and my family.

  Second Reporter: Mr. McBride, when people hear you talk about the money, should they be turned off? I suppose what I’m really asking is, do you have any respect for the term “student athlete,” or are you and other “one and done” players just using the college system to eventually line your own pockets?

  Malcolm: To tell you the truth, I think the system is using me to make money. I play here for free. I don’t get a nickel. My parents even had to pay for their own hotel room in New Orleans. And there’s always some NCAA investigator wanting to make sure that anybody looking to become my agent didn’t slip them fifty bucks for gas money to drive he
re. But I heard that the NCAA makes something like seven hundred million dollars on this tournament, and that my school could make fifteen mil. I know part of that number’s off my back, my sweat. That’s like slavery. I could blow out my knee on any play and lose my career. Then I’d be left with nothing.

  Malcolm’s teammates on either side of him are looking at each other now, nervously shifting around in their seats.

  Second Reporter: You don’t think that free tuition and board at a major college is worth something?

  Malcolm: No, it’s not. That’s like McDonald’s giving you a free hamburger because you work there. Big deal. They had the patties, buns, and pickles ready to sell anyway. The professors and the school buildings are already there, right? What does it cost them to add one more student into the mix—nothing? But how much money do I bring in? At least at Mickey D’s they pay you minimum wage. Here, they lean on that student athlete stuff to stiff you, and keep you poor. They want you hungry, so you’ll play harder and put on a better show. They use the NBA as your Kids Meal toy to get you in the front door.

  Third Reporter: I’d like to hear something from Malcolm’s teammates. John, how do you feel about competing for your school under the current system?

  John (Grizzly Bear): (Tapping the microphone before he speaks) I’m proud to do it, to compete as a Spartan. I don’t even go to McDonald’s anymore (with a small laugh), not since I was a little kid.

  Third Reporter: And DeJuan, what about you?

  DeJuan (Baby Bear): I’m just following my dream: to play college ball at a high level and impress NBA scouts. That’s all.

  Third Reporter: So Malcolm, wouldn’t everyone involved have been better off, and you less abused, if you’d spent the year playing professional ball overseas? You’d have gotten paid for your work there, right?

  Malcolm: I don’t see why I should be forced to leave my own country to earn a decent living. Because I’m not nineteen yet? That’s age discrimination. I can vote. I can join the U.S. army. But I can’t play pro ball. Why? Because NBA owners wasted hundreds of millions on too many high school kids who couldn’t cut it in the pros before? That’s not me (running his right hand back over his close-cut hair). Maybe I should go to work with my father in the auto plants for a year. Oh, that’s right—I can’t, because him and lots of other people got laid off from the assembly line. So that’s two jobs I can’t have.