The day after his unsuccessful attempt to track down Max Aries, Ham arrived at the Rams practice field an hour before the team was scheduled to be out on the field. He’d collar Aries in the dressing room before he had to go out.
Ham sat on a bench in the Rams’ dressing room. He found he wasn’t the only journalist hungry for the new Rams star. Sports reporters from newspapers in every part of the country crawled over each other trying to learn more about Max. Sports Illustrated had sent a photographer; Max was to be their next cover boy. One by one, the players arrived and dressed for practice. All but Max Aries. Finally, as Coach Marvin Jones yelled, “Okay guys. Everyone out on the field. Two laps, then …” While he called out practice assignments, Max dashed into the locker room, fully dressed in his uniform. While Ham and the other journalists gazed on in astonishment, the team jogged out on to the field. Ham’s chance for a one-on-one interview with Max had gone out the window.
Hank Strobel from the New York Post grabbed hold of Ham. “Where does that guy get dressed? In his car?”
Ham shrugged. “Far as we can tell he doesn’t even have car.”
Another reporter sang out, “Maybe in a taxi.”
One said, “I’ll bet I know. He changes clothes in a phone booth. After all, he is Superman.”
That got a good laugh, but Ham wasn’t laughing. He had a deadline, and if he didn’t get a story for his editor, he might be looking for another job.
Four hours later, practice was over and the weary players trudged back into the dressing room. Coach Jones was unhappy with the lackadaisical attitude some of the players had shown after the drubbing they had given the Eagles. He wanted to remind them that last week they had played a team that was at the bottom of the league standings and the rest of the schedule was a killer. When the media people crowded to get into the dressing room for interviews, Jones barred the way. “I’ve got some things to say that are between me and the team. You people will have to wait out here until I’m through.”
There was a chorus of grumbling, but the media people had no choice but to wait.
Half an hour later, the Rams assistant equipment manager unlocked the door. “Okay, people. You can come in now, but please respect the privacy of the team members. Give them a chance to shower and dress before…”
He wasn’t given the time to finish before the media people pushed him aside in their anxiety to get in. Once inside, armed with their notebooks, tape recorders, and cameras, they scoured the room, hunting for Max Aries. Some of the other players stood around smiling, indicating their readiness to get a little publicity for themselves. The media people showed no interest. They had come for Max but he was not in the locker room. One reporter opened the shower room door only to be driven back by a cloud of steam and several cakes of soap that were thrown at him. From inside one of the players yelled, “Beat it! Max isn’t in here.”
Ham cornered Coach Jones. “Marv, there’s going to be a riot unless you produce Max Aries.”
Jones shrugged. “He was here when I gave my spiel. I have no idea where he went.”
Ham remembered he wanted to ask Marv Jones about Max’s phone number.
Marv Said, “Yeah. I called him. Told him to see J.J. about a contract.”
He showed Jones the scrap of paper on which he had written the number Evie had given him. “Then you reached him at this number?”
Marv Jones stared at Ham for five seconds before answering. “Do I have to diagram it for you?”
Ham slunk away, embarrassment was added to his frustration.
Each of the players had his name engraved on a brass plate on his locker door. Max’s locker was closed—he was nowhere to be seen.
Thinking that Max might have gone out the back way and could be in the parking lot, Ham dashed to the back door, guarded by one of the security men. He collared the security guard.“Did Max Aries leave through here?” .
The security guard shook his head. “None of the players has left yet.”
“Are you sure?”
The guard scowled. “I’ve been here for the past hour. Nobody ain’t getting by me without me seeing ‘em.”
Ham walked to his car, head down. Max Aries was as hard to catch off the field as he was on it.