High School Rivalry

by Phil Wohl

  Coach Andrews hugged Pete as he got to the bench and said, “It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.” Pete released the coach from an emotional hug and was mobbed by his teammates. Adam Baum wanted Pete to take a curtain call, but he was already done with it and refused the extra gesture. The season wasn’t over, there was still work to do. From the offices overlooking the court, Ross Parker rested his weary head in his huge, thin hands and thought long and hard about the two big problems now staring him in the face: how would he stop the West Valley runaway train, and who was he going to get to play forward at East City the following year?

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  The headline in the next day’s paper read: Berman Sets the Record Straight. There couldn’t have been a more fitting title. Pete not only trounced the school’s scoring record, but he also let everyone see that Gerry Williams was not ready to take him on, ever. In five head-to-head games, Pete had outscored and outrebounded Gerry 160 (30 ppg) and 100 (18 rpg), to 90 (18) and 75 (10), respectively.

  That Saturday wasn’t your average, run-of-the-mill weekend morning. It was a balmy early March day and the West Valley team was going to meet at the Launching Pad at 2:30 p.m. to walk through some plays to use against Helmsdale. After practice, the team was headed for a dinner at Callini’s Italian Grill. Togetherness came natural for this group of teenagers, as the euphoria of winning helped them get along a lot easier.

  Pete woke up at 11:00 a.m., a little sore but ready to go. He got out of bed and picked his shirt from the previous night off the floor, stopping for a moment to let Isabel’s intoxicating scent again fill his lungs. Isabel had freed his soul and made every day a blessing. Life was good. Pete’s head had never been clearer, but the real question was: would his teammates show up the next night to help him battle Helmsdale?

  The big man strolled into the gym at 2:15, and made a bee-line to his coach’s office. As memories of the previous night began to fade, he now had his sights on much bigger fish. After exchanging pleasantries, the two got down to business:

  “How are we going to convince these guys we can win?” Pete asked.

  “Y’know, I was pondering that same question myself. You’re just going to have to score 60 tomorrow night.”

  They looked at each other and burst into laughter.

  At about 2:35, the coach gathered the team for a pep talk.

  “That was a great win for our school last night, and a game you won’t soon forget. But, to be honest gentlemen, we haven’t yet finished what we started. If we play up to our abilities tomorrow night, we can give this team a game. Is there anyone here who thinks we can’t beat Helmsdale?”

  There were a few moments of awkward silence, and then Pete raised his hand.

  “Pete. The one honest guy in the bunch. Anyone else?” One by one Pete’s teammates raise their hands. Good, that’s better. Now that we got that out of the way we can get to work. When you guys go to Piedmont Park, is there any time that you are afraid of your opponent?”

  “No," the group answered.

  “Do you ever play against black guys?”

  “Yes.”

  The coach probed further, “Do you see the color, or the player? When you go for a rebound do you box the player out? Why can’t we beat Helmsdale? Is it because they’ve blown us and everyone else out? Big deal! I say they can be beaten! And if you give me your full attention for the next hour, I’m going to show you how we’re going to be in this game to the end. We didn’t come this far to be content. The huge crowd cheering for you guys would be disappointed if we didn’t give it our all! This might be our last game of the year, so let’s leave it all on the court! We have to all dig deep and be strong! Let’s get it in here! On three. One, two, three, D-E-F-E-N-S-E!

  Coach Andrews realized that he was just as to blame as his players. He had coached passively against Helmsdale, so his players followed his lead. Against every other team, West Valley would press full-court to start the game. They would also throw 1-3-1 traps at teams every now and again. The coach was planning on giving Helmsdale a taste of their own medicine, while making sure his team would be ready from the opening tap. He also knew that if his team fell behind early, it would be a real long night.

  About ten miles away, Helmsdale was wrapping up their two-hour workout. Ross Parker was concerned that his team was looking ahead to the state tournament and taking this championship game too lightly. He was faced with a similar situation the first time he saw Pete on the opposing team as a nine year-old. Parker’s view of basketball was based on a man-to-man philosophy, as the color of a players skin never entered into the equation. His team loved to play and would not let Pete Berman score 50 points on them. The Helmsdale players questioned how could a slow white guy, who also couldn’t jump, beat them? Ross Parker wasn’t too anxious about his players finding out the answer to that question.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  The first battle of the Sunday double-header, scheduled to start at 2:00 p.m., was the consolation game between Bays Landing and Fellingwood. Gerry Williams had never encountered Keith Reidy, and would be facing him the next game after quitting against Pete. Talk about going into a game with no momentum. Keith Reidy had watched the West Valley-Fellingwood game, and couldn’t wait to get his shot at Gerry Williams. Reidy was also an underrated player who was forced to stand in line behind the long shadow of Williams.

  Keith Reidy was being recruited by Andover College, which was a weak sister like Barringer College in the New England 12 Conference. Pete and Keith were the perfect players to build good team foundations. They were tall, smart and both loved the game with a passion. Pete enjoyed his lone confrontation against Reidy, whose aggressive style also matched up very well with the stiff, emotionless game of Gerry Williams.

  West Valley was meeting in the school’s parking lot at 2:00 p.m. Coach Andrews didn’t want the players sitting around watching the meaningless Bays Landing-Fellingwood game. The team’s mood was visibly different than the frightened group that took that court that late December afternoon against Helmsdale. Pete wasn’t scared then, and after his 50-point night against Fellingwood, didn’t feel like there was anyone on the planet who could stop him. Maybe he would have to score 60 points, but only if they were all good shots. He refused to force the issue. If three guys blanketed him all afternoon, then his teammates would have to step up and hit the open shots.

  Pete was the last player on the bus, and went to his usual seat in the back left corner. He slapped each of his teammates hands as he walked by, saying “Let’s just play ball. We can do it.” The hand slaps got harder and harder until Pete reached Tom Sullivan next to him in the back of the bus. Pete motioned with his hands and mouthed, “Me and you.” The two players had scored about 70% of the team’s points in the regular season, and about 80% in the playoffs. This day, however, that percentage would have to be closer to the regular season average because Helmsdale would be keying on the two of them. Both players knew support would be key, but their play would ultimately boost or crush the hopes of West Valley’s Cinderella season.

  The team waited for a time-out to enter the gym. The sight of the team walking across the sideline to the locker room set off a large contingent of West Valley supporters already gathered in the stands. The team waved back at the fans, but they were extremely focused. Pete looked up at the scoreboard and saw 2nd quarter: HOME, 17, AWAY, 27. He then looked at each team’s jerseys and saw Fellingwood in their familiar white jersey with green lettering and trim. He smirked narrowly, as he took pleasure in seeing the fat whale coach with the beard and mustache squirm for another day.

  Pete had bigger fish to fry. Yes, even bigger mammals than Carmine Pagnozzi. He liked Ross Parker, but usually was disappointed after a game versus the slender splinter’s team. Pete’s high school career was coming to a close, and he began to appreciate his last moments in a Rockets uniform. He was
a nostalgic sort, even as an 18 year-old, and had a lump in his throat as he slipped on the blue-and-gold trim uniform and looked at himself in the mirror. Pete ran his hands over the 44 emblazoned on his chest, and thought about his hoop idol Pistol Pete Maravich. Like Maravich, Berman was about to give the crowd another memorable show.

  Being the visiting team, West Valley was sharing a locker room with Fellingwood. Gerry Williams and his teammates slowly filed into the locker room at halftime, leaving little doubt about the beating they were taking from Bays Landing.

  Eric Spalding walked away from his teammates and took a seat next to Pete on the long wooden bench. His head was down and his body was drenched with sweat. Carmine Pagnozzi would not be addressing his team at halftime. Much like his star player, he had also given up on the season. Spalding didn’t know how to give up, because he was just playing basketball. It was time for Pete to get his ankles taped, so he got up, put his right fist out, and strongly said, “Never give up.”

  The point guard felt a surge through his body as he banged his fist against Pete’s. A bond between the two boys had been forged. There would be no quitting on Barry Melnick.

  Pete was now locked in. He walked by Gerry Williams as if the bench was empty. Every ounce of Williams’ arrogance had been drained from him like a lanced boil. His mind was somewhere else, and the 37-22 deficit his team was up against bore witness to that. At the beginning of the year, he was the most highly recruited player in the state. Carmine Pagnozzi had connections, and could still get him a Division I scholarship. While other players, such as Pete, Keith Reidy, and Bruce Sterling had their best years ahead of them, Gerry had just passed his peak as a basketball player. It was truly a strange high school phenomenon.

  On Saturday morning, Pete rolled out of his bed with thoughts of Tony Delmonico darting through his mind. Fresh from a killing of Fellingwood and his muse, Gerry Williams, Pete drifted back to a time when Tony D. was the second coming of Jim Thorpe. What a ballplayer he was. At only 14, Tony could hit Ruthian home runs, run with a football like Jim Brown, and handle a lacrosse stick like one of the Gait brothers. He was so dominant, in fact, that one year he didn’t strike out at all in Pony League baseball. That was until the last game of the season against Pete’s team.

  Pete was on the mound using his two fastball, one slider pitch sequence to strike out the first three hitters of the game. He then managed to drive in two runs with a double in the bottom of the first, and he was thankful to have a lead with Tony D. coming up with the bases empty. Pete cleared his mind as Tony dug into the box. It seemed that if you thought of the pitch ahead of time, Tony would know it before the ball got to the plate. Pete had nothing to lose. The guy was batting .850, with over a home run a game average.

  As his brown eyes focused only on the catcher’s glove, Pete wound up and threw a fastball strike on the outside corner. The second pitch was another fastball, but this time it skimmed the black of the inside corner. Tony knew the slider would be next and was caught off guard when he waved at another fastball on the outside corner. All of the players gasped as Tony D. walked surprisingly back to the dugout. Pete turned his back on the plate as he watched the ball zip around the infield. He couldn’t show up the legendary Tony D., it just wouldn’t be right. Besides, Tony would kick his ass if he so much as cracked a smile.

  Tony couldn’t believe that Pete struck him out with a fastball. Pete didn’t have too long to celebrate, though, as Tony finished the game with two doubles and a home run. Pete’s team won the game because he only let one man get on base before Delmonico came up each time. The next day in school, Tony D. was telling everyone in earshot that Pete had struck him out. He was also saying that Pete “had a set of balls on him like an elephant.” Pete stayed in character and swung very proudly through the halls that day.

  The thing that stuck with Pete was how Tony D. went from the greatest athlete he’d ever seen, to a high school kid who didn’t play sports at all. In a matter of a year, Delmonico was just an average-sized guy with a cool haircut, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and a leather greaser jacket. The transformation was startling for the teenage has-been they once called Greased Lightning.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

 

  Pete looked into the crowd and saw a sea of West Valley's familiar blue and gold colors blanketing the stands. There would be no shortage of support for the Rockets on this night. This was Pete's first taste of the big time, but no usual pre-game jitters were going to slow him up. He really liked the East City court; its big size gave him more room to shoot, and the rims were soft like melted butter. Pete would foul out the entire Helmsdale team if it meant that his team could win the championship. This would probably not be another record-breaking night, but Pete was ready to go all-out for 32 minutes.

  With eight minutes left on the pre-game clock, West Valley went back into their locker room for final instructions. As usual, Coach Andrews was poised at the blackboard waiting for his team to sit down. The room grew eerily quiet, and then the coach began to speak.

  "Gentlemen, we have to take control of this game from the opening tap. Let's play this game like no other. We start in a 2-2-1 press, dropping back to our 2-3 zone. Guards and forwards, pack it in tight. Pete, get the rebounds, everyone else box out like you’re guarding Fort Knox. On offense, we know they're going to pay special attention to Pete and keep a close eye on Tom. This is pretty simple... WE HAVE TO HIT THE OPEN JUMPERS! If we can make a few shots then the whole game will open up." He looked around the room. "Guys, we didn't come this far to not give our best effort. Dive on every loose ball, fight for every rebound and, most of all...” the team joined in, "PLAY WEST VALLEY BASKETBALL!"

  Coach Andrews planned to start Stuart Plotkin and Adam Baum, and quickly replace them with Steve Christian and Chris Harrington after only a few minutes. The team ran back on the floor, and the referees asked both teams for their captains to meet at center court. Pete, Tom Sullivan and Ron McNally strode toward Glenn Jenkins and Melvin Charles, as the players exchanged brief greetings. Pete was swaying back and forth as he stared into the game he was about to play. By the time the national anthem was sung, Pete was already making his first move in his head. Head-fakes would be the order of the day, and Pete packed enough in his gym bag to get him through the entire Helmsdale team.

  Helsmdale, wearing their white uniforms with royal blue lettering, defended the East basket, while West Valley, adorned in their familiar navy blue jerseys with gold and white lettering, would be playing defense on the West hoop. The head referee, Cosmo Bartlett, tossed the ball up between Pete and Melvin Charles and the championship game was underway. Both Lou Berman and Barry Melnick smiled at the sight of Pete digging his left elbow into Melvin's rib cage, thus slowing his flight toward the ball. Pete deflected the ball toward Tom Sullivan, knowing Tom would not be denied. The sight of Sullivan with the ball came as a shock to the Helmsdale players and delighted the huge Rocket contingent.

  Sullivan handed the ball to Ron McNally, who looked at Pete for a defensive indication. Pete put his hands together to form a square, and then yelled the word "Box," to indicate that Helmsdale was in a box-and-one. The only hitch was that Glenn Jenkins, who was five inches shorter than Pete, was playing him man-to-man. So much for the head-fakes. Pete's first thoughts were, "Don't bring the ball down and crash the boards. Since Pete had a huge height advantage, vision would be his ally. Pete glanced over at Tom Sullivan as if the two were transmitting signals to each other. Ron lobbed a pass into Pete, who was firmly positioned at the foul line. Before Jenkins could reach to make a steal, Pete made a blind over-the-head touch-pass to a streaking Sullivan who banked in a shot over the surprised back line defenders.

  The crowd was in an instant frenzy. The West Valley fans were throwing streamers and confetti onto the floor and the Helsmdale fans were convulsing in approval of the blind pass. This was the fir
st time that West Valley had led Helmsdale in years, but there was still 31:45 left in the game, making it highly unlikely that the two points would stand up all game.

  As the debris was cleared from the floor, the Rockets had time to set up their press. The referee whistled for play to resume and handed the ball to Stanley Denby. Denby's eyes opened wider and wider with each passing second. He eventually threw an errant pass that was smothered by a diving Stuart Plotkin. Plotkin immediately rolled the ball to Ron McNally who fired a pass down the left baseline to Pete who was uncontested from 20-feet away. BANG! 4-0, West Valley.

  In spite of the boisterous West Valley crowd, there was no panic in the experienced Helmsdale five. Glen Jenkins slowly walked the ball up the floor and surveyed West Valley's tight 2-3 alignment. After a few passes, Jenkins hit an 18-footer and signaled for the Knights to go into their full-court press. The chess match had begun and the big guns were already out on the board.

  By the end of the first quarter, the lead had changed hands seven times, with West Valley scoring the last points on two Berman free throws with two seconds remaining. The lead was one at 17-16, giving Coach Andrews the fast start he knew his team had to have against Helmsdale. Contrary to the coach's thinking, he left Adam Baum and Stuart Plotkin in most of the quarter because they were playing great defense and boxing out anything that moved. Baum even converted a pretty over the shoulder pass from Pete mid-way through the quarter.

  The battle of Berman vs. Jenkins was a stale mate. Pete had nine points, five rebounds and three assists, while Glenn had eight points, three rebounds, four assists and two steals. Helsmdale had used five different guys to guard Pete, and they had accumulated eight fouls between them. Coach Parker was concerned that Pete was a little too big for Jenkins to handle, so he kept shuffling taller players in to guard him.

  Pete was using his height advantage to pass over the double- and triple-teams. Christian and Harrington were inserted into the lineup to hit open jumpers, and on the first two possessions of the second quarter they made their coach look like a genius. Pete loved to make the diagonal pass. What was once taboo and was called a cross-court pass, was now commonplace and called a skip pass. Helmsdale's defensive over-pursuit of the ball made the pass a natural to an open player across the floor. The play was commonly used by West Valley's big man, who grew up as a point guard and was not averse to throwing any pass worth completing.