Read Online The Rivalry by John Feinstein - Free Book Online Page B

to reporters. He had risen to fame while winning three national titles and getting into all sorts of trouble at Indiana. He had finished his career at Texas Tech, and Stevie had read that he had become a kinder, gentler curmudgeon since going to work as a commentator on TV. It didn’t seem quite that way at the moment.
    Krzyzewski forced a laugh. “What Coach meant to say is, the Army Hall of Fame induction dinner is tonight. Weboth coached at Army early in our careers, and we each have a former player going in. That’s why we’re here.”
    “And we hired Agent Dowling for the day to protect us from kids who are media wannabes and budding sycophants,” Knight added.
    “Well, you don’t need protection from me,” Stevie shot back. “I’m strictly a newspaper guy, so ESPN is the last place I’d ever work.” He was about to congratulate himself for remembering from his eighth-grade vocab class what a sycophant was when he saw the look on Krzyzewski’s and Dowling’s faces and the definition flew out of his mind.
Oh my God, I just talked back to Bob Knight!
    “You’ve got some mouth on you, don’t you?” Knight said.
    Fortunately, the guy grilling the hamburgers intervened at that moment. “Got four fresh ones here,” he said, handing them to Stevie, who quickly passed them around.
    “I’m sorry—” Stevie started to say.
    “That’s actually a point,” Krzyzewski said. “You
are
in the media now, Coach.”
    “I need something to drink with my burger,” Knight said. “Let’s go.”
    “I’m going to stay here for a minute with Steve,” Dowling said. “Coach Knight, it was an honor to meet you. I hope I see you later.”
    He shook hands with both coaches, who turned into the crowd and were instantly mobbed. Maybe they did need Secret Service protection.
    “Pretty gutsy line there, Steve,” Dowling said as he picked up his hamburger.
    “I can’t believe I said that,” Stevie said.
    “Yeah.” Dowling laughed. “He may be seventy, but he’s a big guy with a temper.”
    “No kidding,” Stevie said. “What were you doing with them?”
    “I met Coach K. years ago when he brought his team to the White House after winning a national title,” Dowling said. “He’s signed things for charities for me and for my kids. Good guy.”
    “I know,” Stevie said glumly. “My friend Susan Carol
loves
him and everything Duke. I can’t stand Duke, but whenever I’ve met him, he’s been really nice.”
    “Class act,” Dowling said. He looked at his watch.
    “Are you working?” Stevie asked.
    “Soon,” Dowling said. “I’m going to meet with the officiating crew when they get here. Some of them will work Army-Navy, so I want to brief them.”
    “I guess that’s a break for you if some of the same guys work both games,” Stevie said.
    Dowling shook his head. “No, it’s not. We requested it. Three officials from this group and four from the Navy–Notre Dame game will call Army-Navy.”
    “No detail overlooked, huh?” Kelleher said, walking up to join them.
    Dowling shrugged. “That’s the plan.” He glanced at his watch again. “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go,” he said. “Stevie, keep an eye out for Coach Knight.”
    Stevie laughed.
    Kelleher gave him a look as Dowling walked away. “Did you get yourself into trouble again?” he asked.
    “Only a little,” Stevie said.
    Kelleher shook his head. “Come on, let’s get inside the stadium.
Maybe
you’ll be safe in there.”
    Watching the game from the sidelines was thrilling for Stevie. He was amazed by how fast the players moved and by how hard they hit one another. You really didn’t see that on TV. Several times when plays came close to where he and Kelleher were standing, he winced at the sound of the contact being made and fully expected the players to remain lying on the ground. And yet they jumped up and ran back to their huddles.
    “My mother was right about one thing,” he said late in the first quarter. “This is