by Phil Wohl
Pete nodded, "My gut tells me that I would love to play for you. In my mind, it all depends on what your campus looks like."
"To be honest with you, that's my ace in the hole."
Pete smiled, "Somehow, I already knew that."
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
It's was game time. The town of West Valley supported its team all year, and the Friday night semi-final game against Fellingwood would be no exception. The 5,000-seat East City College gymnasium was brimming with Rocket supporters wearing blue and gold. Over 1,000 people had shown up to cheer their team. Even Pete, in his focused haze, couldn't believe the turnout.
The night's first game, which started at 5:00 p.m., pitted Helmsdale against Bays Landing. Helmsdale had barely been challenged throughout the playoffs and was threatening to make a mockery of the proceedings. Their full-court, run-and-gun style had left most teams breathless throughout the year.
Helmsdale's lone loss of the year came against private school Martin Luther High School, which had been parochial state champs four years running. Luther was able to recruit players from all over the world and was better than most Division II college teams. Helmsdale fought gamely, but lost the game 84-68. Ross Parker thought the experience would help his team if they reached the state tournament.
Bays Landing was a similar team to West Valley, with star Keith Reidy providing most of the scoring punch in the form of a 24-point per game average. Many teams realized that you had to start fast against Helmsdale, and this night would serve to prove that theory once again.
Pete and his teammates watched the start of the game from the lower level of the enormous stands. After Helmsdale ran out to an 8-2 lead, Pete had seen about enough. During a Bays Landing time-out, he got up slowly, slung his bag over his shoulder, and started walking toward the locker room. The huge throng of West Valley fans saw him and started chanting, "HERE WE GO, PISTOL, HERE WE GO! (Clap, Clap) HERE WE GO PISTOL, HERE WE GO!" Pete raised his left fist to the crowd as one-by-one, his teammates followed him off the floor. As the game resumed, the West Valley fans chanted, "HERE WE GO VALLEY, HERE WE GO! (Clap, Clap) HERE WE GO VALLEY, HERE WE GO!"
The fans from the three other schools looked confusingly at the rowdy Rocket contingent. The Fellingwood fans were the most amazed. They weren't expecting to be up against such a hungry crowd. With only about 300 people showing up from Fellingwood, the long night had already begun. The gleam in Barry Melnick's eyes bore testament to that.
A dejected Bay Landing team walked in at halftime to the section of the locker they were sharing with West Valley. Pete slapped hands with Keith Reidy as he walked by, symbolizing the huge respect each man had for the other. Being down 38-17 to Helmsdale was literally a tournament termination notice. Pete knew that if his team got another shot at Helmsdale, they would have to stay close and try to steal the game down the stretch. But, that was food for thought for another day.
With less than an hour before the Rockets were to take the court, it was time for Coach Andrews to tape some ankles. Pete went to get a drink of water when he saw a large figure running toward him. In a matter of seconds, Pete realized that the hulking mass was none other than Bruce Sterling of Bernaqua. Bruce was truly a man among boys and spoke with a deep, Lurch-like voice.
“Hey, Berman!" He dropped his guard a bit. "Pete!”
The two walked toward each other and shook hands.
“Hey, Bruce. Williams still wiping the Spalding basketball tattoo off his face?”
“That mother fucker! They’re just going to hand him the county championship!”
“Not gonna’ happen, Rock."
“You really dislike him more than me," Sterling conceded.
“Don’t care much for that fat whale of a coach either.”
“Well, you guys go out there and play hard. And feel lucky that you don’t have to play us again!” He punched Pete’s chest with the back of his huge left hand.
Sterling walked away as Pete checked to see if any of his ribs were broken. He was happy to avoid the 32 minutes of Bruce’s physical pressure in favor of another chance to dissect Gerry Williams.
Both the locker room and the gym were quite warm. The building hadn’t hosted such a big event in many years, as the local community college previously housed the event. Pete was completely focused again. He sat down on a high square bench and Coach Andrews taped his ankles. First the left, then the right, as the two men continued to remain silent. They both got up when the ankles were wrapped and the coach said:
“This is your night to show the world who you are.”
Pete countered, “This is our night to beat Fellingwood again, not for them to lose to us.”
Pete sat near his temporary locker and put on his two pairs of socks and then his sneakers, right foot first and then left.
There were only a few seconds left in the Bays Landing-Helmsdale game, so West Valley lined up in the hallway adjacent to the gym. The gym doors were open and the team was in full view of their fans in the stands who started chanting, “VALLEY! (Clap, Clap) VALLEY!” and “LET’S GO VALLEY (Clap, Clap, Clap-Clap-Clap)...” The game on the floor had been over for some time before the final buzzer sounded. Helmsdale’s 74-53 final margin was just an afterthought.
West Valley ran onto the floor in a single file after the two teams left the court. Their 1,000-plus fans all stood and cheered as the noise was both deafening and heart-warming. As Fellingwood took the floor, the sound of their 300 fans clapping was quickly drowned out by about 4,000 people that booed. It seemed that no one liked Fellingwood. In fact, many schools had been ticked off by the preferential treatment shown the school in the past. The West Valley fans started to mock Gerry Williams by chanting “G-E-R-R-Y, G-E-R-R-Y.” Soon his name was echoing throughout the gym, but Gerry did his best to ignore it.
Since West Valley was the higher seed, it was the home team and would be introduced last. The crowd booed Fellingwood so loudly that the players could not hear their names. Eric Spalding smiled as he was told to run out to the foul line, which, in turn, brought a smile to Barry Melnick’s face. The point guard would not be rattled.
The crowd was wild as the West Valley starting team was introduced.
“At guard, 5’10”, Ron McNally. At the other guard, six feet tall, Tom Sullivan. At one forward, 6’ 1”, Stuart Plotkin. At the other forward, 6’4”, Adam Baum. And in the middle, the big man, 6’6”, Pistol..." Pete's name was drowned out, as the gym sounded like the inside of an air-craft carrier. Pete jumped in the air and pumped his fist, much in the same fashion that he did the previous game. This was a hostile crowd looking for blood and the heads of the Fellingwood Rams.
As two teams made their way to the center circle, Pete and Gerry approached each other. As Gerry sheepishly looked into Pete’s inflamed brown eyes, he instantly realized that his published comments were a big mistake. Pete bodied Gerry and easily won the opening tap, and before the crowd could settle in their seats Tom Sullivan lobbed a pass to Pete in the left block. He dribbled once, spun toward the baseline, faded away and swished a ten foot jumper. Streamers filled the court from all angles as the crowd yelled “PISTOL! (Clap, Clap) PISTOL!”
Pete wanted it so bad he could taste it. This was the stage that he envisioned when he was sitting in the stands two years earlier. Before Karen Hughes could sit down, Pete made her do another tumbling run and split by sinking a jump hook in the lane. Karen looked at Pete running down the court and realized that her body would be tested more this night than an average session in the back of her boyfriend’s beaten up Chevy.
By the end of the first quarter, Carmine Pagnozzi was prepared to throw everything but the kitchen sink at Pete. He was on fire, and Carmine would have been better off calling the fire department than reading the riot act to his team.
“What the hell is going on out there? Is this the wa
y county champs defend their title? You’re playing West Valley, not Helmsdale, for god's sake. Is there anyone in this huddle that thinks they can guard Berman?"
Eric Spalding raises his hand.
The coach looks at him. "Why not! Son, you’re the only guy on this team that has enough guts to take a chance!”
West Valley led 16-6 going into the second quarter, with Pete tallying 12 of those points to go along with five rebounds. As the Rockets set up their offense, Pete realized that 5’11” Eric Spalding was guarding him. As Barry Melnick moved to the edge of his seat, Spalding anticipated the bounce pass intended for a perturbed Pete and raced the length of the court for an easy lay-up.
Pete looked at Stuart Plotkin and yelled, “I’ve got seven inches on the guy! Lob the ball in the air!”
Next time down, Spalding was whistled for literally climbing on Pete’s back. As the two helped each other off the floor they smiled like two little boys playing tackle football in the backyard. Barry Melnick thought that he must get these two players together on his team. From all of the players he'd scouted over the years, he spotted a love for the game in Berman and Spalding that he hadn’t seen in some time.
Carmine Pagnozzi’s Spalding experiment ended when Eric took a seat next to him late in the period with three fouls. Pete missed sparring with the little guy, but managed to torture Gerry Williams over the last two minutes in a memorable sequence of plays. Spalding had held Pete to only six points in the first six minutes of the quarter. Pete liked Eric Spalding, which often translated into softer than usual play from the big guy. The site of Eric heading to the bench and Gerry walking toward him relit the fire inside of him.
Pete and Tom Sullivan were always on the same page. The two very seldom spoke on the court, but communicated through the game. Pete was agitated, and was suddenly playing with a real sense of urgency. Tom loved seeing Pete so incensed. He often thought that his big man was too laid back, despite his great feats on the court. If Berman had Sullivan’s toughness he would be all-world. But that’s what made Pete different from the average student-athlete. He had compassion and a respect for things around him. The only things Sullivan respected were a can of Budweiser and his hardened older sister. She was a scary woman, an Irish wonder with a famous temper to matched her fiery-red hair.
Pete moved Gerry away from the basket and began his infamous long shot progression. Pete had absolutely no intention of driving to the basket, but there was nothing Gerry could do to stop him. First he hit a 16-foot jumper from just above the foul line, giving him 20 points for the game. Next time down Tom gave Pete the ball about 18 feet from the basket... BANG! Fellingwood was in a trance, and its players were overpowered by the huge partisan crowd and the soft touch of the opposing center.
West Valley was now up by 16 points, 37-21, with 1:20 remaining in the half. Pete then hit from 20, 22 and 24 feet the next three trips down. He finished the half by taking a pass near half court, taking one long dribble and rising for a long-range bomb. The crowd rose slowly and collectively said, “No way.” The ball bounced softly off the backboard and nestled into the net as the halftime buzzer sounded. Pete shook his head while running off the court, as the crowd tried to process what they just saw. Pete ended the half with 30 points and 13 rebounds, while Gerry scraped by with eight points and four rebounds. Eric Spalding fought gamely, and ended the half with 10 points and four assists. Fellingwood was down 45-25, but no team of Carmine Pagnozzi’s had ever lost a game by double-digits. Come to think of it, no player had ever scored 40 points against Fellingwood, but Pete took care of that in their previous meeting.
Barry Melnick happily strolled in the main hallway and was utilizing a stall in the bathroom when Lou Berman unzipped his fly at the adjacent urinal. They glanced at each other.
“To tell you the truth, I’ve seen him hotter,” Lou said.”
“Wow! I’d like to see that.”
“So, how are things at Barringer College?”
Barry responded, “It would be a lot better if you guys were there. Still haven’t warmed to the idea?”
“It’s like this, Coach Melnick. I know you and my son have created a nice bond....”
“I know more about you than you know. I know that you once stuck a sharp elbow in my rib cage at Piedmont Park some 15 years ago. I also know that you like watching your son as the star, not just another cog in a squeaky wheel.”
“I just don’t want you living your life through my son," a defensive Lou Berman countered.
“To be honest with you, Mr. Berman, I don’t want to live through your son, I want to put myself on the court," Melnick said as he zipped his fly and walked over to wash his hands. "Your son has a gift of making everyone around him better. I have a bunch of players that need to be better. If I can get Pete and Eric Spalding to come to Barringer, we could really do some special things.”
Lou’s eyebrows rose. “Spalding from Fellingwood? That kid has a real nose for the ball. He and Pete play real well together.”
“Spalding’s a good kid. He’s the best player on that team.”
The two men looked at each other and laughed. “How long is that drive up to Barringer?" Lou Berman asked.
It was a huge concession from an all-too-proud man.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
There was no letdown from the West Valley five in the second half. They had let Fellingwood back in too many games to be overconfident. Gerry Williams was a shell of himself, while Eric Spalding continued to pick up the pieces. Pete had 38 points at the end of the third quarter and the record watch was on. With West Valley clutching its 20 point lead, the only thing in doubt was how many points Pete would score.
“Okay, fellas. Great job,” Coach Andrews yelled encouragingly. “Now, let’s get Pete the ball and watch him shatter the record.”
The team was yelling and screaming and excitingly slapping Pete’s hands and back. Pete, as usual, would have none of the celebration. He was his father’s son. His work was not done, yet. Eric Spalding walked by Pete at the start of the quarter, and said, “Never liked Gerry much anyway. You thinking of going to Barringer?”
Pete replied, “Yeah. Let’s play another eight minutes and then we’ll talk.”
Barry Melnick saw his future talking and looked down to Lou Berman who shot him a knowing look and a nod.
Carmine Pagnozzi, being a true sadist, left Gerry Williams on Pete. For all the Fellingwood star had done for him, he no longer had any use for him. That was the life of an abusive high school coach. Milk the talent dry and move on to the next group. Pete had turned cold-hearted and saw only the record. He knew that if the roles were reversed, Gerry Williams would be all-too-happy to return the favor. Pete witnessed that first hand when Gerry mercilessly destroyed his team while he helplessly watched from the stands two years prior.
Pete was tired, but not out of gas. He hit a jumper from the left baseline with 6:28 remaining to give him 40 points. Two from the record. Just tying it this time would not be an option. A minute later, after Eric Spalding’s 19th and 20th points, Pete hit another jumper from the right corner. The crowd was on their feet, as word of the impending record breaker had filtered up and down the stands. Spalding hit another jumper as 3,000-plus people were now chanting, “PISTOL! PISTOL! PISTOL!”
Pete always envisioned the record-breaker being a jumper from the left side, but Gerry Williams had other ideas. For the first time in his lengthy Fellingwood career, Gerry did not hustle back on defense. His spirit was completely broken. Pete was never known for his blazing speed, but ran down the left side of the court unchecked. He looked back at Ron McNally, who was surprised to see Pete so wide open. Ron rifled a chest pass down the court to Pete, who took two dribbles and gently laid in a righty lay-up off the glass. Any remaining confetti and streamers were thrown in the air, and Pete breathe
d a sigh of relief as he floated back down the court. The wait was finally over, or so he thought.
The hungry crowd started chanting “50! 50!” Pete looked over at his coach who quickly endorsed the crowd’s wishes. Carmine Pagnozzi sat his big, fat ass on an overmatched chair and folded his arms. Someone was giving it to his team for a change, and he wanted no part of it. A foul was called and Pete walked over to his coach.
“Are we rubbing it in?”
“Against any other opponent I would say yes, but not this one."
Pete smiled and nodded, and took his place on the line. Fifty it was. He wanted to give the bench a chance to play so he would try making it as quick as possible. Gerry Williams was just another body out there, as Pete hit a jump hook and then tapped in his own miss on the following trip. He wanted the 49th and 50th points to come from his staple long-range bomb, so he set up in the corner and hoisted a soft jumper. The huge gym went dark through Pete’s eyes as a spotlight focused on the basket. The ball splashed through the net as the crowd exploded, brining Pete back into the here and now. This time, confetti and streamers were thrown onto the court and play was temporarily halted.
Coach Andrews signaled for Steve Gerring to replace Pete. The buzzer rang and Steve motioned to Pete that he was coming in for him. Pete turned to one side of the stands and acknowledged the crowd, and then turned and waved to the other side. Eric Spalding ran over to Pete and said, “Great game. If you go, I go.”
Pete shook Eric’s hand and gave him a quick hug, as the two nodded at each other. Pete looked at his dad and smiled, and then nodded at Barry Melnick and gave him the thumbs up sign. Melnick was beside himself. No longer was he concerned about getting Pete and Eric to sign letters of intent, because they had just sealed the deal.
