The One & Only: A Novel (25 page)
Read The One & Only: A Novel Online
Authors: Emily Giffin
Tags: #Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Literary
“Give me one example,” I said. “Of Coach looking the other way.”
“Okay. Do you remember Cedric Washington’s Cadillac Escalade?” Ryan asked.
“Yes. No. Not really. But whatever. Go on,” I said. Cedric had been
a wide receiver during our era, a year behind Ryan, and almost as heralded, leaving school a year early to enter the draft.
“Ever wonder how he got a truck that nice? With tinted windows, spinning rims, that booming bass sound system playing Dr. Dre all over town?”
“No,” I said. “Never gave it a thought.”
“Well, you’re the only one … There’s no
way
Cedric could afford a truck like that. C’mon. He was from the
projects.
”
“Okay,” I said, giving Ryan a blank stare.
“Okay? Well. Someone gave him that thing. And it wasn’t anyone in his family. And guess what? Coach looked the other way. He ignored it. Willed it to go away. And it did.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. That’s what winners do. They make things go down like they want them to go down.”
“Is that what you do, Ryan?” I said. I was pissed and felt myself start to lash out at him. “You’re a big-time quarterback. Do you cheat?”
He leaned his putter against the wall and cracked his knuckles. “No. I don’t, actually.”
“So if you could steal another team’s signals and not get caught …?”
“You mean like Tom Brady filming the Jets?”
“Yeah. Like that.”
“Or
Greg
Brady stealing the playbook?” He laughed. “Did you ever see that episode?”
I smiled in spite of myself. “Of course. I’ve seen every
Brady Bunch
episode. And it was Jerry Rogers who tried to steal the playbook from Greg. Greg would never do something like that. Now answer the question.”
“I did answer it. I said no. I don’t cheat because I don’t need to cheat. I’m
that
good. But if I had to …”
“Have you ever cheated on a girlfriend?” I pressed, now looking for any excuse to be mad at him.
He cracked the knuckles on his other hand and looked me right in the eye. “Never,” he said.
It seemed impossible, given the opportunities he must have had over the years, but he didn’t flinch or even blink.
“Okay,” I said, deciding to believe him.
“Look, Shea. All I’m saying is—sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.” He picked up his club and knocked in another easy putt.
The next morning, and another few phone calls later, including one to the NCAA, I emailed Smiley my measly three-hundred-word story, relieved that there were no smoking guns, only a couple of quotes, including one from a not very credible UT insider. In other words, it was the best I could have hoped for when I started poking around.
NCAA PROBES BRONCOS
BY SHEA RIGSBY
Walker University’s football program is officially under NCAA investigation, having received a notice of inquiry in late July, says a source with knowledge of the case. The specific nature of the alleged violations was not disclosed, but one source, speaking on the condition of anonymity, described the transgressions as “mostly minor but potentially more major and wide-ranging in nature,” including concerns about several past and current players’ eligibility and academic misconduct, as well as “extra benefits and possible recruiting violations.” Another source close to the University of Texas athletic department specifically named Walker freshman running back Reggie Rhodes, claiming he was “inappropriately entertained by a Walker booster.”
According to the NCAA’s legislative database, this is the first investigation during Coach Clive Carr’s tenure at Walker, a school known for its squeaky-clean reputation. NCAA senior spokeswoman Emma Potts said: “We can’t
comment on current, pending, or potential investigations.”
According to Scott Galovan, Walker’s senior vice president for public affairs, the school is cooperating and collaborating with the NCAA as part of the ongoing inquiry but, as a private university, is not subject to Freedom of Information requests to reveal the notice of inquiry. The notice is sent to schools as formal notification that an investigation is being conducted. If violations become substantiated, the next step in the NCAA process would be a notice of allegations, which would spell out detailed violations.
Walker University athletics director Stuart Sherrill issued the following statement: “The focus of our coaches and student athletes is solely on preparing for LSU this Saturday. As such, I have instructed Coach Carr, his staff, and our student athletes to refrain from commenting on or answering questions regarding the status of this investigation.”
Within seconds of filing my story, my phone lit up with Smiley’s name. “A school known for being
squeaky clean
? Oh,
really
, now?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm.
“Well. It is.”
“That’s
your
opinion, Ms. Rigsby.”
I resisted the temptation to argue that it was actually closer to fact than opinion, sort of like saying:
Most people describe the sky as blue.
“Except for that bit of covert propaganda, it’s fine,” Smiley said. “We’ll run it tomorrow.”
That evening after practice, I stopped Coach on his way back to his office and asked if he had a minute.
“For you? Sure,” he said, adjusting his cap with an easy half smile.
I smiled back at him and said, “You feeling good about LSU?”
“Yeah. I am. But don’t print that.”
“Obviously. I’m not that much of a rookie.” Then I took a deep breath and said, “But … I just wanted you to know that we … I have to run another story tomorrow.”
“Oh, yeah?” he said.
“Yeah. About the investigation.”
He stared at me for a second, then gave me a brisk nod. “Okay.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know how much you hate distractions.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “I don’t listen to what people say and write about this program. There are fifty-two thousand people yelling at me in this stadium every time we play. I learned a long time ago to tune out the noise.”
I nodded and said, “I hope you can tune it out. I hope Reggie can tune it out, too. He’s named in the story.”
“I hope
you
can tune it out, girl. Don’t let this get you down.”
We were in that golden hour of dusk, the setting sun reflecting in his eyes, and he shifted his gaze to something in the distance.
“I’ll try,” I said. “I just hate having to write a story like this.”
“It’s your job,” he said. “You don’t have a choice.”
I nodded, hoping for more, perhaps an adamant denial of any wrongdoing. I got something almost as good, as I watched him switch gears into his philosophical coaching mode.
“It’s like this,” he said, and I prepared myself for a good nugget. “You know in your heart when you’re doing the right thing and when you’re not. And you just have to do everything you can to stay the course.”
“Right,” I said.
“Keep your eyes on the prize.”
T
he story ran the next morning, and by noon I had over fifty texts and emails, most from alarmed friends and former colleagues. They were surprised by the story, but more surprised that my name was attached to it. A lot of people asked if I was okay. No death threats yet, I told them, although the hate mail was beginning to trickle in from a few Walker crazies.
That night, my mother came over in a panic and demanded to know what was going on, why I hadn’t told her anything, and whether Coach was mad at me.
“No, he’s not mad at
me
,” I said.
“Is he okay?”
“Yes, Mom. He’s fine. He’s a head coach. He’s just focusing on our next game. One day at a time.”
“Well, is it true?” she said.
To anyone else, I would have said a flat no. That the reports came
from jealous boosters at a rival school. A bitter transfer. Someone with a beef or a chip on his shoulder. But there was something about my mother, always so extreme in her views, that made me say, “Probably some parts of it. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be an official notice and a full-blown investigation.”
She shook her head and said, “No way. I don’t believe it.”
At that moment, I heard and saw myself in her, my blind allegiance to Coach Carr and anything related to Walker, and it made me a little sick.
“It’s not that black and white,” I said. “This isn’t SMU in the eighties. But, yeah, we probably looked the other way …”
My mother shook her head adamantly. “Cheating
is
black and white,” she said. I could tell she was talking about my father, and I marveled at how she always forgot that she was once a cheater, too. That that’s how it all began. How I came to be. “Bottom line, Coach Carr would
never
knowingly cheat,” she finished.
With this, I had to agree—and did, aloud.
“Do you know, in all those years of marriage, he was always true to Connie? Always. Do you know how few coaches at his level can say that? Connie told me stories you wouldn’t believe … Brazen, rampant serial cheating by so many coaches. I think they’re worse than investment bankers.”
My heart skipped at the mention of Connie and Coach and their marriage. I loved the affirmation of his strong character, but my heart filled with something else, too. Maybe guilt, maybe a dash of envy. Which in turn confused me and made me feel even more guilty.
“So they were really happy, huh?” I said, lowering my eyes.
“Yes,” she said, but then hesitated as if considering whether to say more. “They had a very happy marriage, but it wasn’t easy … It’s tough being married to a coach. She was lonely a lot. Sometimes she said she felt like a single mother. Especially around the holidays. She loved him so much, but …” Her voice trailed off.
“But what?” I said.
“But I think she had to give up a lot of her own dreams to be with Clive.”
“What dreams did she have?” I said.
“Connie could have been on Broadway. She really could have. With her looks and that voice … she could have been a star …”
I nodded, remembering how beautiful her voice was. How she used to play the piano and sing during more intimate family gatherings. “Did she want that?” I said, unable to picture her in anything other than a supporting role.
“Oh, I think so, yes. When your dad left us and moved back to New York, she made a comment that always stuck with me. She said she was jealous of him … Not that he had left his family, but that he was getting out of Walker. Out of Texas. Connie was more layered than most people knew … She followed all the Southern conventions and was always the perfect wife and mother … But deep down, she was a dreamer. A head-in-the-clouds dreamer … She chose Coach over all of that and never looked back. But …” My mother paused, as if to fight a wave of emotion.
“But what?” I said gently, feeling so sorry for her, unable to imagine losing my own best friend.
“But I think she was waiting for her turn. Someday. There was so much that she wanted to do when Clive retired … See the world. Live abroad. She talked about Vienna a lot. She loved Vienna.”
“Why Vienna?” I asked.
“She lived there for a few years growing up, when her father was in the service …” My mother’s frown turned to a faint smile. “Can you imagine Coach in Vienna?”
“Do they get ESPN there?” I said, smiling back at her.
“Exactly,” she said.
My phone buzzed, and I looked down to see a text from Coach:
Shea, Don’t sweat this story. Stay the course. Onward.
“What is it?” my mom said as I stared down at my phone.
“Nothing,” I said. “But I do have to go pack now. I have an early flight to Baton Rouge.”
“What’s in Baton Rouge?” my mom said, looking confused.
“Um. LSU,” I said. “We have a football game to play. Remember?”
Then, as I shooed my mother out of my apartment, I wrote back:
Thanks, Coach. Onward.
The next day we hit LSU right in the gut. Three yards and a cloud of dust all day long. But the 27–3 victory in the blazing hot sun seemed only to add fuel to the media fire, and I could sense that every major paper, sports website, and blog was poised to run some variation of my story, rather than the highlights of our domination over the Tigers. Still, the win felt good, better than most, and I could see in Coach’s eyes a renewed determination to make this our year. Despite the investigation, and maybe
because
of the investigation, this really could be our season to remember. After all, winning was the ultimate
fuck you—
everyone in sports knew that much.
“Onward,” I whispered to Coach as he was heading into the press conference with Rhodes and Everclear.
He gave me a quick wink in return, then said, “You got it, girl.”
A few minutes later, the Q & A began, the first question predictably directed at Reggie about the investigation. Reggie, whose performance was nothing short of outstanding, leaned into the microphone with complete poise as he said, “Um. Yeah. I’m just gonna talk about football today.”
Undeterred, the reporter pressed, “Do you know Raymond Matthews?”
I knew from my investigative digging that this was the name of the Cincy booster in question, and could tell by the look on Reggie’s face that he knew the name, too.