Read Online Last Shot by John Feinstein - Free Book Online Page B

PLOTTING
    SO THEY KNEW who the bad guy was. Or at least one of the bad guys. Susan Carol was now officially angry. “A professor of ethics!” she railed, a little bit louder than Stevie would have liked, once they had closed the media guide. “That’s disgusting.”
    “You mean it wouldn’t be disgusting if it was the team doctor or someone else?” Stevie asked.
    “Of course it would be disgusting,” she said. “But if students can’t trust their teachers, who can they trust? If you read the bio, you would think that this guy is a saint, a do-gooder.”
    “And if you read the player bios, you would think they’re all student-athletes,” Stevie said.
    She smiled ruefully. “It’s easier to be a fan when you watch on TV.”
    There was no arguing with that. Stevie had wanted the inside view of college ball, but he wasn’t liking what he saw. Almost no one was who they appeared to be—or who the people running the event wanted you to think they were. The moderator kept screaming about “student-athletes,” as if that would somehow make it true. Thomas R. Whiting, noted professor of ethics and morals in American society, had clearly lost track of his ethics and morals somewhere along the way. Stevie wondered if Chip Graber was really what he appeared to be. He’d kind of assumed that Graber was a victim—but maybe he’d done something really bad and was trying to cover it up.
    “Who
can
we trust?” Susan Carol said as if she was reading his mind.
    “And what do we do now?” Stevie said.
    She thought about that for a minute. “I think we need help. Mr. Weiss or Mr. Brill? One of the NCAA people?”
    Stevie laughed at that one. “You mean the people who are obsessed with convincing us that all the players are ‘student-athletes’? I don’t think they’re going to be a lot of help.”
    “Cynical,” she said. “But true.”
    “I suppose we could wait and see what happens in the games tomorrow,” he said. “If Minnesota State loses, maybe it’s over.”
    “All bets are off,” she said, smiling.
    “Funny,” he said. “But Whiting did kind of threaten Graber if MSU loses.”
    “Which means we probably should tell
somebody
,” shesaid. “I think Mr. Weiss and Mr. Brill are our best chance.”
    Quickly reviewing their options again, Stevie realized she was right. He could see Brill packing up his computer. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s give it a shot.”
    They asked Brill if he had a minute to talk. He looked puzzled but said, “Sure,” and the three of them walked over to where Weiss was working. He looked up and said, “Everyone finished but me, I guess.”
    “As usual, Hoops,” Brill said. “The kids have something they want to ask us.”
    Weiss pushed back from his computer. “Believe it or not, I’m just about done. What’s up, guys?”
    Stevie glanced at Susan Carol. How to begin?
    She sat down next to Weiss. “Has anyone ever tried to fix a game at the Final Four?” Susan Carol asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
    Weiss smiled. “A fix?” he said. “No. There’s been point shaving through the years. I think the last time was Tulane in ’85, right, Bill? But outright fixing? No. Especially nowadays, when the players all think they’re going to be millionaires in the pros soon. Why do you ask?”
    Susan Carol glanced at Stevie, who nodded for her to continue. “We think someone may be trying to blackmail a player.”
    “What in the world makes you think that?” Weiss said, looking perplexed.
    “We overheard something,” Stevie said. “A conversation.”
    “What’d they say?” Brill asked.
    “Well, he said the player had to win tomorrow and then choke on Monday.”
    “Or else what?” said Brill.
    “Um … I’m not sure exactly,” said Susan Carol, looking to Stevie for help.
    “He said that the team would forfeit all its wins and that the coach would be fired. But he didn’t say why, or how …,” said Stevie, feeling suddenly unsure. This