The two exchanged pleasantries and goodbyes and went their separate, but connected ways. A month later Ross Parker would hook up with East City College and begin his own pursuit of Pete. Carmine Pagnozzi was well connected, but he had no idea what Larry Melnick looked like. Melnick knew Pagnozzi because the S.O.B. had coached him at a basketball camp when Pagnozzi was in college and Melnick was a teenager. Melnick thought Pagnozzi was a hard-driving, no-nonsense guy whose style conflicted with the free-thinking teenager. As much as things seemingly changed, they more--he thought--they stayed the same.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Pete walked up and shook Gerry Williams’ hand. Their eyes met but the two never exchanged words, choosing to let their games do the conversing.
The uneventful first half ended with West Valley holding a 22-20 advantage. Pete scored only six points, but grabbed 10 rebounds and blocked two shots. Gerry had 10 points but had only three rebounds.
Barry Melnick wondered what Coach Parker saw in Pete. Despite showing flashes of strong play, Pete looked lethargic and somewhat uninterested. Melnick asked a Fellingwood fan to direct him to the nearest bathroom and then walked into the closest locker room. As he was zipping his fly he heard someone throwing up in a nearby stall. “Are you all right in there?” Melnick asked. “Ugh, yeah. I’ll be O.K. as soon as every last ounce of liquid leaves my body.” Pete responded.
Melnick half-smiled as he walked past the rows of green lockers. A West Valley player walked in to check on Pete and said, “Is he still throwing up?”
Melnick countered, “Yes. Do you know the guy?”
The kid replied, “Yeah, that’s Pete Berman. He’s sick as a dog, but you would have to shoot him to keep him out of this game.”
The light came on in Melnick’s head as he stopped to get a soda and a pretzel at the makeshift concession stand. He thought, "No wonder Pete was so sluggish. It was a marvel that he was able to get out of bed." But Melnick knew that he would be out there too, being that he also never missed a game in his life.
Pete washed his face and felt his head slightly clear for the first time in days. He was determined to stop Gerry cold in the second half after the action was fairly even in the first half.
The third quarter picked up where the second ended, with both teams waiting for someone to land the first big punch. West Valley edged ahead by six points, 36-30, by scoring the last four points of the period. Pete had game totals of 10 points, 16 rebounds and four blocks. He had put the shackles on Gerry, who had only 12 points and four rebounds.
The fourth quarter started with Gerry hitting a jump shot in the lane over Pete. Four point game, 36-32. Tom Sullivan was having trouble seeing from behind his white molded mask and turned the ball over to the Fellingwood point guard Eric Spalding, who finished the play with an uncontested lay-up.
A visibly upset Pete called for time and ran back to the team's huddle. With the threat of losing to Fellingwood now hovering over him, Pete was fully awoken from his slumber. He yelled to Coach Andrews, “Let’s go man on defense! We’re letting them back into the game!” Coach Andrews replied, “Whatever you want, as long as you don’t throw up on me!”
With five and-a-half minutes left in the game, West Valley was clinging to a 36-34 lead. Nonetheless, over the next three-plus minutes Pete scored six points, snatched four rebounds, blocked a shot, and refused to let Gerry Williams even touch the ball. Larry Melnick moved to the edge of his wood bleacher seat, as Carmine Pagnozzi screamed for a foul on Pete. Gerry was wondering if Pete had somehow crept into his mind as was reading his every thought. West Valley 44, Fellingwood 36. Time out, Fellingwood.
Coach Andrews warned his players that Fellingwood was not going to quit, but they ignored his pleas, as usual, over the next two minutes. Gerry still couldn’t get his hands on the ball, but his teammates took up the slack and narrowed the deficit to 44-42 with 15 seconds left. On the inbounds pass Tom Sullivan got hit on the nose and surrendered control of the ball. The ref’s ignored his anguish and Fellingwood called a time out with 20 seconds left. Sullivan was immediately escorted to the locker room while holding a bloody, red-stained towel to his nose.
Carmine Pagnozzi told his players to settle down as the home crowd went wild. There three-year home winning streak wouldn't be stopped after all. He looked squarely into Gerry’s eyes and said, “Son, it’s time to back up your press clippings.” Coach Andrews told West Valley to stay in their man-to-man defense and box out on the shot.
Everyone in the gym knew that Gerry would get the ball. He ran off a double pick on the baseline, but Pete forced him to catch the ball about 20 feet away from the hoop on the right-hand side. 10 seconds left. Gerry took two awkward dribbles toward the baseline and tried to ball-fake Pete into the air. Eight seconds. Pete moved closer to Gerry but wouldn’t buy the fake. Gerry tried another ball fake but Pete’s feet were nailed to the ground. Six seconds. Gerry panicked and rose for an ill-advised jumper. Five seconds. Pete jumped in the air. Four seconds. Gerry shot the ball but Pete’s outstretched left hand deflected it into the air above the two players. Three seconds. Pete grabbed the ball from the air and gathered it into his stomach. Two seconds. Gerry desperately reached for the ball but hit Pete’s sore ribs instead. The referee blew the whistle with one second remaining.
“Foul on number 45, white,” said the referee as he stood in front of the scorer's table. The crowd went eerily silent as the public address announcer said, “Foul on number 45, Gerry Williams, his fifth foul.” The foul-out buzzer went off and Gerry walked slowly to the end of the bench, far away from a disapproving Carmine Pagnozzi.
Pete had fallen to one knee from the pain but quickly got to his feet by himself. He walked the length of the court to the foul line next to the West Valley bench. The first shot hit the front rim, glanced off the backboard and fell through the net. Pete looked over at Coach Andrews and smirked. The second shot went through and the swish sound echoed throughout the now-quiet gym. The West Valley fans roared as the final buzzer sounded. Coach Carmine once again showed his value as an educator, by high-tailing his large frame directly to the locker room without offering the handshake of sportsmanship.
It was difficult to tell by the look on Pete’s face whether the team had won or lost the biggest game of the year. He stood at center court as a reporter from The Daily Herald interviewed him about the game. The reporter said, “Is it true that you have been throwing up all day?”
“Yeah, I spent most of the day in the bathroom.” The rest of the article would stress how Pete and the Rockets survived, not how Fellingwood lost it down the stretch. The changing of the guard had occurred and the West Valley High School Rockets were now the hunted instead of the hunter.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Pete was greeted by family members after the reporter went on to interview Coach Andrews. A few minutes later Barry Melnick made his way over to talk to Pete.
“That’s a good win,” Melnick said as he extended his right hand in congratulations.
“Thank you, Coach Melnick,” Pete said as he shook the coach’s hand.
“You've been doing your homework. How are you feeling?”
“I felt good enough to play, but sick enough not get out of bed. How did you know I was sick?” Pete questioned.
“I talked to you in the bathroom at halftime." Pete nodded in remembrance, although his fuzzy mind was a little sketchy on the actual details.
Neomycin continued, "I recently talked to Coach Parker about Gerry Williams, but he said I should look you up instead."
“Coach Parker’s the best coach in the area. It would be nice to have him on my side, not against me for a change.”
Melnick asked, “So you're thinking about going to East City?”
“I don’t know. I’d like to consider all
of the options before I make a decision.”
“Would you consider Barringer College?”
“Would you?” Pete shot back.
“I wouldn’t be sending you all those letters if I didn’t. Look, we could stand here all night, and I could tell you all the great things about our school and the conference. Do yourself a favor, when the season is over come up to see us with your parents. I grew up in Lessing and I’ve been living in New England ever since high school," Melnick responded.
The two shook hands again and Coach Melnick said he would be in touch. Pete watched the 6’4” Melnick walk through the gym doors and felt a spark in his exhausted body. Melnick knew he couldn’t compete with the sales pitch of East City, so his only hope would be to forge a genuine bond with Pete. As they were talking, Pete felt as if he knew Melnick and could see talking to him for hours.
Melnick got in his car and drove back to Barringer College in what seemed like a flash. His mind was racing with the thought of having a coach on the floor who would find a way to win games. The kid couldn’t jump or run, but he could shoot, pass, rebound and defend if the mood hit. It would be like coaching a young Larry Melnick, but instead he would be able to help Pete learn from his mistakes.
Coach Melnick was up all night trying to construct a letter to send to Pete. Now that he had met the West Valley star it was time to move away from form letters. He kept it simple but decided that he would use the same approach as his college coach: Keep it light, use overnight delivery and never miss an opportunity to make someone smile.
Pete’s mom greeted him at the door the next afternoon with a brown package. “Were you expecting a package?” his mother said.
He looked at the name of the sender and said, “Yeah, I had a feeling this would come.”
Pete took the package up to his room and quickly opened it like a child receiving a birthday present. He opened the small box and pulled out a letter, which read:
Pete,
I hope the next time I see you, you’re feeling better.
Coach
Inside the package was a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and an airline vomit bag. A relationship was established. Pete was amused and full of confidence. His lungs were clearing and his sights were focused on the remainder of the season. The battle between East City and Barringer was on, but Pete’s mind focused on a tough, Friday night match-up with much-improved Bernaqua to end the first half schedule.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Bernaqua, a perennial football, wrestling and lacrosse powerhouse, had a tall, strong team. Their front court was anchored by Bruce Sterling, a 6’5”, 210 pound block of granite. In fact, the team had four players over 6’3” in the starting line-up. The antibiotics had done the trick on Pete's illness, clearing the decks for an aerial assault.
Pete knew he was on his way to a free ride in college, but didn’t dare even stop to think about it. He often called upon the wisdom of his junior high nemesis Billy McDowell in these situations, “One day a hero, the next day a bum.” Pete had no aspirations of being a bum and walking the school hallways with his head down. He loved to stroll through the halls the morning after a big win, head held high, smiling at everyone that passed by with a positive remark. It was sort of like a ticker-tape parade without the ticker tape and the convertible.
Coach Andrews knew his team would not let down after the close call against Fellingwood. After all, the team hadn’t played very well but still won. Bernaqua was a team that presented match-up problems for the undersized Rockets. He went to scout them the previous week during a four-point loss to Fellingwood. This was a team that hadn’t learned how to win yet, but Coach Andrews knew they would be dangerous once they became more confident.
Pete was sweating profusely on the lay-up line. Coach Andrews smiled when he saw the glow of Pete’s moist skin. He planned to play a tight 2-3 zone all game and throw a 2-2-1 full court press against the larger team every now and then. Bernaqua played mostly zone but occasionally went man when the match-ups were favorable.
Bruce Sterling controlled the opening tap against Pete by holding him off with his left elbow. This would be a physical, but not dirty, game. As the first quarter unfolded, it was apparent that the referees would let the two teams play. This made for almost a schoolyard-type setting, a style of play that Pete was accustomed to from his years at Piedmont Park. In an entertaining first quarter, West Valley grabbed an 18-16 lead to the delight of the capacity crowd. Pete had eight points and five rebounds, with six of his points coming from long range.
The main difference for West Valley was the six-point contribution from Tom Sullivan, who ditched his protective mask so he could see better. He figured that if he was going to get hit, it would hurt no matter what precautions he took. This took some of the pressure off Pete who was working hard to keep the muscular Sterling and company off the boards. He implored Adam Baum and Stuart Plotkin to put a body on anything that moved, but was usually left to battle at least two players on every rebound.
By halftime, it became apparent that this would be a special game. A game that would be remembered for years. The lead changed hands a half-a-dozen times with West Valley leading by a single point, 33-32, at the intermission. Pete’s 18 points and 12 rebounds led the way, and Sullivan’s 10 point outburst helped his team keep pace. Bernaqua boasted an extremely balanced attack with four players tallying six points, and two others scoring four.
Coach Andrews was in a good mood in the locker room at the half. “Gentlemen that was one of the best halves of basketball I’ve ever seen on any level. This team is not going to give any ground. They will fight you until the final buzzer, so you have to be committed to outwork them. I know they’re a big team, but we have to do a better job boxing them out. We gave away six second chance points, and that could be the difference in such a tight game.”
Momentum swung back and forth like a pendulum in the third quarter, but West Valley held on to the lead for dear life by the quarter’s end. Their 47-45 advantage was keyed by Pete’s six points and four rebounds and Tom Sullivan’s four points, giving them 24 points and 16 rebounds, and 14 points, respectively, for the game. The crowd was on the edge of their collective seats. The teams could not be more evenly matched.
As the four quarter unfolded, it became apparent that Bernaqua would not just ride off into the sunset. One big shot after another was made, with the plot twisting and turning like a good mystery. No player for either team was in foul trouble since the referees, for a change, were doing a masterful job of staying out of the way. There was little complaining by either the players or coaches. This was basketball as Dr. Naismith had intended it: pure and intense.
With two minutes remaining West Valley had the ball and a two point lead. Pete was fouled in the act of shooting by Bruce Sterling, who collected his third foul. Pete sank both free throws, giving him 30 points for the game, and Bernaqua called a time out. Now Coach Andrews was worried. His team was infamous for having trouble dealing with prosperity, and this night would prove no different. With a minute left, Jim Curtis of Bernaqua hit a running one-hander in the lane to cut the deficit to two. West Valley then held the ball for a good thirty seconds until Curtis fouled Tom Sullivan while he was dribbling near half court.
Sullivan was a walking tree trunk, standing about six feet tall and weighing a solid 180 pounds. He grew up in the heart of the big city and spent much of his time in the schoolyard and on the tough streets. This kid would never be mistaken for choir boy, but he could play basketball. He wasn’t a great shooter but could hit a jumper if the need arose. Many times he felt more comfortable amongst the trees than he did in the open spaces. The rap on city kids was that they were notoriously poor foul shooters, and Tom usually proved that he was no exception to the rule.
The referee signaled to the players that if Tom made the first shot, he would get another. Tom pulled the string and the ball
grazed the front rim and landed in the welcoming arms of Bruce Sterling, for his fourteenth rebound. He immediately signaled for time out as Sullivan walked was his head down to the West Valley bench. Bernaqua down two, 28 seconds left, with the ball and a chance to tie. Coach Andrews once again implored his players to box out, and advised them to use their last time out if they got the ball.
Bernaqua looked out of sync as they unsuccessfully ran a set play. It was almost like they were set on chasing a shot they had no intention of making. Their 5’9” point guard Drew Hanson threw up a prayer from the top of the key with 15 seconds to go, and the other four players crashed the boards like a million dollars was sitting under the basket. All five West Valley players turned, felt for the nearest man, and boxed out with all of their strength. But the makeshift dam was no match for the strength of the raging Bernaqua River. Power forward Brian Harrison went through the slender Adam Baum and banked the ball back in with 10 seconds remaining. Time out West Valley.
It was almost trivial for Coach Andrews to draw up a play. Adam Baum and Mark Ciccone would try to set a double pick, or slow down Bruce Sterling. After the huddle broke up a female voice behind the bench said, "Thirty-footer, nothing but net." Pete looked over and nodded at his buddy Isabel Mitchell, who infused him with a healthy dose of confidence.
Sweat blanketed Pete’s body as he walked up the court. Water spit out of the eyelet’s of his sneakers each time his foot hit the hardwood floor. All of the air in the gym was inhaled by a nervous crowd waiting for the outcome of an extremely tight and well-played game.
The game was in Pete’s hands, and he knew it... the man guarding him knew it... everyone in the town knew it. Lou Berman smiled as he watched his son set up under the basket. His thoughts drifted back to their days in the park together, working on positioning and preparing his son to be the hero. To be the guy who went out with the head cheerleader, the player who would be awarded a college scholarship.