Read Online [Brackets] by David Sloan - Free Book Online Page A

brought one. None of the four had a reason that they wanted to share, so the issue was dropped.
    A few more questions were raised. Yes, all of them would accept the money and had big plans for it. Of the three, Tucker was the only one who actually played basketball, although Neeson had been following the game for a while. They were all aware of the nicknames being given to them by the media but had not decided among themselves which one they liked m ost , though Neeson was partial to the “Fourseers” and Tucker liked the “Four Bracketeers”. Finally, they confirmed that none of them had a stake in the games outside of the prize money from the contest. It was all luck, and all in good fun.
    “Well, if there are no more questions,” said Carol Clemente, “I think we’ll wrap things up. We’d like to thank these four men for being willing to come today, and again, we wish them luck. Next at this table, in fifteen minutes, will be some of the coaching staff for Boston College. Thank you.” Carol dismissed the four, who exited to the left and found themselves in the hallway.
    All around them, the chaos of media coverage at th e Final Four closed in. An intern from ESPN was trying to give them instructions. They had a photo shoot in ten minutes, followed by filming of individual interviews to be used as potential fillers during the long time-outs. They had to hurry; there wasn’t much time. Tip off was in just four hours.
    *               *               *               *
    When it was almost game time, Cole, Neeson, Perry, and Tucker were escorted up a long escalator to the second level of the newly renovated Verizon Center. Long banners were stretched over the escalators in both directions, and anxious crowds surrounded them on all sides. It was a festival atmosphere. On th e way up, they saw the entrance to the brand new private luxury suites that had been added during recent renovations, and Neeson wondered aloud why they didn’t get one of those. The intern just shrugged.
    T hey walked along the curved concourse, then through a short cement tunnel into the arena itself.
    It was the first time Cole had ever been in a n arena to watch a game . A giant jumbotron greeted them with frenetic basketball highlights and advertisements. The two teams of the first game, Georgia and Nebraska, were out on the floor running their shoot- around. Media workers were pacing the sideline and checking wires. Music blared out over the aggregated hum of the crowd. Cole was almost convinced that this was supposed to be fun.
    Their seats were on the second row of the upper tier, facing the long end of the court behind the players’ benches. They were so high that Cole couldn’t make out the faces of people on the floor very well. He’d overheard an earlier discussion about the media wanting them to sit on the lower level so it would be easier to do quick cuts to them during time-outs, but they couldn’t get it done. Still, the four men had an impressive view of the court and the crowd, and the television cameras on the floor could zoom in when needed.
    Their escort wanted Perry, who had Georgia going all the way, to sit next to Tucker so that they could be more easily isolated in close camera shots. Tucker took the aisle seat on the right and Neeson grabbed the seat on Cole’s left, so Cole and Perry were obligated to sit next to each other in the middle. As soon as they had been seated and the escort had departed, both Neeson and Tucker immediately retrieved their phones from their pockets and left. Cole felt awkwardly compelled to converse with the glum man next to him.
    “So, Perry, right? You like living in Seattle? A lot of great bands up there,” he half-heartedly attempted.
    “Yeah, it’s fine.” Perry kept his arms folded and looked around nervously, a disconcerting stance that he had maintained since they had first met at the hotel.
    “So, can I ask, you really feel like you’re