The Final Four (16 page)

Adams: Coach Barker, you’re among the highest-paid coaches in the country, aren’t you?

Barker: I’m employed by a state school, so my salary is a matter of Michigan public record. But coaching is coaching. There needs to be a passion for it beyond money, because you didn’t make that good living while you were learning your trade. You put those tools in place while you were still relatively poor. So it was passion that drove you, not a paycheck. That core love of the game is still the most important thing to me. The rest is just a satisfying gravy and stuffing at the Thanksgiving meal
(patting his slightly extended stomach with both hands)
.

Adams: Coach Kennedy, you are probably the hottest coaching property in the country at this moment. Rumor has it that major universities are ready to offer you four to five times what you’re currently making at Troy. Coaching at a more prominent school would equal a larger shoe company contract for you as well. Your athletic director has said publicly that the university has no intention of losing you. That Troy will renegotiate your contract at the end of the NCAA Tournament. But they still might not be able to offer you the types of dollars you could see at a larger school. Has any of this been a distraction for you, your team, or your family? And what do you tell your players who will be returning next year but may not find you there?

Kennedy: Well, as far as my relationship with the players, we’re busy concentrating on the task at hand. We’re a family for right now, a close one, too. We’re not going to let outside influences fracture what we have. We’re all on different journeys and going different places in our lives. We understood that from the beginning. Players graduate and eventually coaches get replaced or move on. But we’re sharing something special in the moment, so that’s what we want to stay focused on. And it’s not about
me
, because I wouldn’t have the success without the players. It’s about
us
, which includes everyone who puts on that Troy uniform. If the future holds other offers for me, I’ll probably listen. But I’m not there yet, so it’s not my top priority now. Helping this team to succeed is.

Adams: Michigan State has a confirmed “one and done” player in Malcolm McBride, Coach Barker. Has it been a difficult relationship with the superstar freshman?

Barker: I wouldn’t say that. It’s almost like dealing with a senior who has eyes for the professional ranks—only a senior usually has a little more maturity and feels closer to the program after giving you three years of sweat. But it’s a business for those players. And hopefully, they’ll take care of business on the court, because it’s in their own best interests.

Adams: So motivation shouldn’t be a problem.

Barker: Two games away from a National Championship, they shouldn’t need me to motivate them. If they do, then something’s
wrong. I’ve told them all week, “There are over three hundred and forty division-one teams that would kill to be where you are right now.”

Adams: Coach Kennedy, how do you like to motivate your players?

Kennedy: Well, I don’t know that you can really predict what will motivate players. They’re all different, with different personalities. Some need praise. Some you can challenge in public. Others need to be addressed privately. It’s the same with coaches—we’re all different, too. But as for me, I have a dozen individual relationships with my players. And when I’m talking to them all at once, I try to find that right balance, one that we can all relate to.

Adams: How about the tag “Cinderella,” which has been attached to your team’s accomplishments in this tournament?

Kennedy: Though my players may be too proud to admit it, I believe it’s helped to take the pressure off. No one expects them to keep winning—no one but us.

Adams: Coach Barker, what’s your take on this hoops fairy tale?

Barker: As a team, we don’t buy any of that Cinderella nonsense. Those young men at Troy can play this game, and we take them very seriously. They’re a worthy opponent.

Adams: So you’re going to downplay being the favorite in this game with all of your team’s size and strength?

Barker: The ball doesn’t know that we’re the favorite. It’s not going to bounce our way because we walked onto the court with a bigger reputation or because our players have a few more inches. We’re going to have to outwork them for it. I truly believe that.

Adams: So will your squad be intimidated in the least, Coach Kennedy?

Kennedy: I told my players before we arrived in New Orleans for the Final Four this week—it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience. You can smile and enjoy yourselves. But remember, we absolutely belong here. Don’t look like tourists. We came to win.

Adams: I know that you two are opposing coaches, but under different circumstances, do you think you could be friends?

Kennedy: Basketball is an extended family. So besides the upcoming game, I don’t think we’d have any obstacles between us. We were talking a little bit before this interview, and we both like to fish.

Barker: It’s not lip service when I say that I respect this man
(shaking Kennedy’s hand)
. I wish him all the best, just not on Saturday night. Maybe when this is all done I’ll meet him at some fishing hole. But I still won’t tell him or any other fisherman what kind of bait I’m using.

“I think that you have to communicate with people, and I think that respect is a two-way street.”

—Lenny Wilkens, inducted three times into the Basketball Hall of Fame, first as a player, then a decade later as a coach, and lastly as part of the 1992 USA Olympic Dream Team

7:56 P.M. [CT]

C
rispin, sandwiched between a pair of rival Spartans, sprints towards the sidelines at full speed after a loose ball. His intense focus is split between the basketball and keeping his feet in bounds. The sideline is closing in fast, and everything surrounding the two pinpoints of his vision is a blur. The ball goes out of bounds off a green jersey, into the Trojans’ cheering section. Crispin desperately throws on the brakes. His sneakers drum the floor beneath him—
bop, bop, bop
. Then the rock ricochets off the shoulder of a red cheerleading sweater and into the hands of Hope. Crispin straightens his body, fighting his momentum in order to come to a complete stop. The two are face-to-face now, with just a few feet separating them. The Superdome crowd
erupts in applause for the pair. Then Hope takes a step back with the ball and loses her balance. As she’s falling, Crispin reaches out and catches her.

The cheers grow even louder as Crispin pulls Hope to her feet.

“Thanks,” says a flustered Hope, clutching the ball tightly to her chest.

Before Crispin can respond, a referee steps between them. He takes the basketball from Hope and then blows his whistle to resume play.

With the score knotted up 82–82 and everything in motion again around him, Crispin peeks back to see Hope being hoisted into the air by a guy on the pep squad.

MARCH, THREE WEEKS AGO

As soon as Crispin finished his deliveries for Flying Sushi, he went back to his room at the athletes’ dorm on Troy’s campus. His roommate, Aaron, was there with Roko, who lived in the dorm room next door.

The pair had taken a break from studying and were playing Crispin’s Wii.

There were books spread out on Aaron’s bed and on the floor of the cramped room, as the two stood in front of a TV, flicking the controllers tied to their wrists, tossing a virtual Frisbee to a tail-wagging dog for points.

“Hey, C-Rice, you okay?” asked Aaron, looking away from the screen. “You’re all pale and sweaty, man. And I mean paler than usual.”

“Yeah, I’m all right,” answered Crispin, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. “Just a rough day at work.”

“You sure?” Roko followed up. “Because you look like you just ate some really bad sushi.”

“Some customer stiff you out of a tip or shut the door on you again without paying?” asked Aaron.

“That stuff really happens?” asked Roko.

“Believe me, you don’t know what you’re going to get when you knock on somebody’s door,” answered Crispin, a second before his cell started playing “We Belong Together.”

It was a text message from Hope.

Crispin sat down on the edge of his bed and read it to himself while Aaron celebrated his pooch scoring a perfect one hundred points for a leaping catch in the center of a bull’s-eye.

Crispin didn’t reply.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever figure women out,” Crispin said, deleting the text.

“It’s all about communication, man, just like hoops,” said Aaron.

“You think?” said Crispin, stuffing the phone down into his pants pocket.

“Headaches from your job and your girl on the same day.
What’s that like?” asked Roko, loosening the controller from his wrist.

Crispin just shook his head and said, “Believe me, you don’t want to know.”

“Don’t sweat it too much,” said Aaron. “It’ll probably all work itself out.”

“I don’t know. Maybe she’s not the one for me,” said Crispin, glancing up at the poster of
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit models on the wall next to his bed. “At least these girls never turn things back around on you.”

“That’s a big thing to say. You want to talk?” Roko probed again.

But Crispin’s mind was somewhere else, and he never even heard the question.

Twenty minutes later, after Aaron had gone out for something to eat, Crispin was stretched out on his bed, staring at some world history notes.

Heading for the open door with his arms full of textbooks, Roko stopped and said, “Know what I like about you as a teammate? You’ve got your eyes open on the court all the time. I’m impressed by that.”

“And how’s that going to help me off the basketball court?” asked Crispin.

“Don’t close your eyes to what you see, in you or anybody else.”

“What do you mean exactly?”

“It’s better to face stuff than pretend it’s not happening.”

“You sound like you know something here that I should,” said Crispin.

“No, I’m not smarter than anybody about these things. I’m no James Bond double-oh-seven type with the ladies. But if you need to talk or anything, I’ll be next door. I’m going steady with these books tonight,” said Roko, before he turned the corner into the hallway.

The next morning, Crispin was waiting for Hope on the quad, in front of the fountain and the statue of the Trojan warrior.

He knew she’d pass that way for her nine o’clock class in advanced economics.

Hope was right on time, and she walked straight up to Crispin.

“Listen, I’m sorry about our arguing last night,” she said in a low voice, looking around to see that no one else was within earshot. “I hardly slept at all. Let’s just get past it. I was probably as much at fault as you.”

“Me?”
replied Crispin, with a bit more volume. “How do you think
any
of this was on me?”

“It takes two to argue,” Hope answered. “It always does.”

“So it was my fault for finding you in a strange apartment with a guy?” asked Crispin, appearing even taller as he shrugged his shoulders.

“You know something—you don’t talk to me, you talk
at
me. That’s why you don’t hear,” said Hope, pulling her books in tighter against her chest. “I already explained who he was. Just let it go.”

“It’s not that easy to forget—you alone with somebody else.”

“That’s so insulting,” Hope countered quickly. “If that’s who
you think I am, why did you ask me to marry you? And why did you do it in front of the whole world? To trap me? So I couldn’t have a chance to think about it? So I’d come off looking like a total bitch if I said no?”

“That wasn’t it at all. It was about the moment,” said Crispin. “Just tell the truth about that guy.”

“All right, you want to know the truth,” said Hope, stamping her heel on the concrete path. “Last night was really about your spying, about you not trusting me, and trying to control me. I’m your fiancée, not your property. How about a little room to breathe?”

“You need more room, you’ve got it,” said Crispin, walking off.

“Thank you,” said Hope, walking away in the opposite direction. “Because I deserve it.”

“Sometimes a player’s greatest challenge is coming to grips with his role on the team.”

—Scottie Pippin, a Hall of Famer who won six NBA Championships with the Chicago Bulls playing beside Michael Jordan

7:57 P.M. [CT]

M
J sees Malcolm turning the corner with the ball. So he steps out to set a screen against Aaron Boyce, who’s guarding Malcolm. MJ times it just right, giving Aaron a real jolt on contact. Malcolm gets fouled driving to the basket by another Trojan. And once the play is stopped by a ref’s whistle, Aaron confronts MJ.

“You guys like those bullshit little screens, don’t you? You want to hurt somebody, right? That’s why our point guard’s on the bench,” spouts Aaron, getting up into MJ’s face. “You guys think you’re thugs.”

“We’re just playing the game hard. The way it’s supposed
to be played,” MJ answers with just as much gas. “Maybe your squad’s too soft for us.”

That’s when a handful of players from each side pull the arguing pair apart.

“If we were balling outside in the park, without these refs, I’d show you what tough is, little boy,” adds Aaron, resisting his teammates’ restraint. “I’d lay down the kind of rules you guys don’t have the heart for. The kind of rules to make you go home early.”

“I’ll meet you there tomorrow,” says MJ, with Malcolm giving him an approving slap on the rump. “No cameras. No refs. Nothing. Just you, me, and a rock. Any way you want to get down.”

The two continue to exchange glares as Malcolm converts a pair of free throws and the Spartans take an 84–82 lead with 2:30 left to play.