Chris and Wojo go recruiting high school phenom JamesOn Curry
[NOTE: This was published in installments in spring of 2002 on the Inside Carolina message boards at insidecarolina.com. It is a parody (duh) -- a "reimaginactment" of how two Duke assistant coaches might have recruited this player. We pick up the action after one of Curry's high school games ....]
PART 1
"... Wojo and Collins met Curry in the locker room after the game and congratulated him on his performance. Curry thanked them, but appeared not to know who they were."
"My daddy coaches the Wizards. Michael Jordan's team. I'm an assistant at Duke. We'd like you to be a Blue Devil. It's neato." Wojo remained silent, but when Collins finished talking Wojo winked at Curry, then leaned over and slapped the floor with his open palms.
"Uh...thanks for coming," said a clearly uncomfortable Curry as he hurried away. "Wooo!" yelled Collins to Curry, after which he and Wojo were escorted out the door.
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PART 2
Once outside, Collins and Wojo put on their Duke windbreakers. They were immediately surrounded by a hostile crowd.
"I thought you wuz sum 'em New York sissy boys," said Cletus Franklin of Mebane, who then spit tobacco juice on Wojo's hair.
Wojo turned to confront the 81 year old Franklin, but Collins intervened. "Remember, you're either on the train or your off it," he said.
"You're right," said Wojo, tobacco juice rolling down his neck. "Let's leave."
Collins and Wojo hurried to their Escalade as the mob surrounded the car. "I'll bet you two are on the train," yelled Franklin as the two Duke assistants sped away.
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PART 3
Once safely away from the octagenarian mob, Chris pulled the car off the road. He turned to Wojo, who eyes were full with tears.
"Oh, just look at you. Here, use my hanky." Wojo wiped the tobacco juice from his neck and then the tears from his eyes. "Thanks. It's just so frustrating. I could've taken that guy!"
"I know," said Collins. "But remember ..."
At that Wojo began to scream. "My eyes! My eyes! They're burning! Get water!"
"All I have is lemon perrier," said Chris. "That'll have to do."
Chris doused Wojo's eyes with lemon perrier. After that Wojo felt better.
"Anywho," said Chris, "we've got to uphold the reputation of the university. We can't go fighting people whenever we're provoked."
"But your dad choked Pete Gaudet and he wasn't even provoked." said Wojo.
"I know, but this is different." said Chris. We're official Duke employees. That means we're part of the fist.
"Can I be the middle finger?" said Wojo, a smile creeping onto his face.
"You already are," said Collins. "You already are."
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PART 4
When Chris and Wojo finally returned to Cameron it was after midnight.
"Where the [bleep] have you [bleeps] been?" asked Coach K. "I told you to be back here an hour ago. What the [bleep] is that on your neck Wojo--a tattoo?"
"No Sir."
"Well what the [bleep] is it?"
"A tobacco juice stain sir."
Coach K rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to even ask … What happened with this kid--what's his [bleepin] name?"
"JamesOn Curry" volunteered Chris.
"Anybody in my neighborhood in Chicago with that first name never would've seen his fifth birthday," muttered K. "How'd it go?"
"Not so well," said Wojo. Chris Collins jumped in. "He didn't seem to like us. Wojo slapped the floor and everything."
"[bleep]. Did you mention the fist?"
"We forgot." Coach K exploded.
"[bleepin] [bleepity] [bleep], does Johnny have to do everything around here?! JOHNNY! Johnny, get in here."
In walked Johnny Dawkins looking dapper in a black tuxedo. "What?"
"What the bleep are you wearing, for [bleep] sake? You look like a [bleepin] undertaker. Were you at some kind of party tonight?"
"No. I just decided to start wearing these. I was talking to Q and he said ..."
"Never mind," interrupted K. "Johnny, you're handling this Jim Curry thing from now on." K turned to Collins and Wojo. "[bleep] I swear, you two. When I was recruiting I once drove all night to Niagara Falls just to ..."
Coach K stopped talking and stared at Wojo, whose eyes were bulging wide. "Niagara Falls," said Wojo. "Slowly I turn, step by step ..."
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PART 5
"Slowly I turn, step by step, inch by inch..."
"Shut the [bleep] up you fat [bleep]," said Coach K, slapping Wojo on the back of his head and out of his Curly-trance. "Johnny, I want you and Dick at this Jim-bob or whateverhisname is's next game. Make sure you bring Dick."
"Awww. Do I have to?," said Johnny. "He always wants to drive and it scares me. What with the eye and all. And he never shuts up."
"I know, I know. But kids know him. Most of them were in diapers last time you were somebody. Now go. But first, turn on the tube. One of my commercials is almost on."
Chris and Wojo lunged simultaneously for the TV remote, but their heads collided and they knocked each other to floor. Both men lay nearly motionless, groaning. Ignoring them, Dawkins switched on the television to a news report about the Chris and Wojo incident in Mebane.
"[bleep!]," said K. "This is all I need. Turn it up. I can't hear it above their caterwalling."
"... assistant coaches were surrounded by elderly Mebanians late tonight after a high school basketball game. The two were apparently in town to recruit local star JamesOn Curry, but somehow provoked the ire of the crowd. 'I just dint like the look 'um,' said Mebane resident Merlene Watts. 'They just didn't seem ... well ... normal.' Another local resident, 16 year old Missy Wilson, encountered the Duke coaches at the concession stand. 'The fat one said he wanted sauerkraut on his hot dog. Well I didn't know what that was, so I was like, what? And he was all like, sauerkraut. And the other one kept krinkling up his face like he was gonna cry or something. I'm glad they got beat up.' Apparently no one was injured in the fracas. This has been Twinkie Brooks reporting. Back to you Vince."
K turned off the TV in disgust and gave the semi-conscious and still prone Collins a vigorous kick in the stomach. "I guess we'll have to try plan B."
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PART 6
"Plan B. What's Plan B?," asked Dawkins?
"Johnny, get me John Feinstein on the phone," said K.
"But it's 1 am?," said Johnny.
K gave Dawkins an icy stare, and Johnny picked up the phone and started dialing. "And throw some ice water on these two [bleepin] maroons," added K.
In seconds, K was talking to Feinstein. "Coach, do you know what time it is?," asked the groggy Feinstein, who had been fast asleep in his footie pajamas.
"Of course I know the [bleepin] time you pimply [bleep]! Now listen up. I need an article."
"But Dean's retired. You said no more articles after Dean retired."
"Listen fatboy. You're either on the train or you're not. Which is it?" K stepped back to allow Dawkins to toss a bucket of water on the slumbering assistant coaches, who slowly came to their senses. Feinstein paused for a moment. He clearly wanted off the train, but was afraid. He let out a whiny sigh.
"But I can't write that the game is passing Matt Doherty by," said Feinstein. "He's a young guy for gosh sakes."
"You'll write what I tell you [bleepin'] to write. What I need is an article that makes it look like Doh's job is in jeopardy. And I need it right away. Fax me a draft in an hour."
"But I have to get up early. I'm appearing on 'The View' tomorrow, promoting my new book, 'Rhythmic Gymnastics: the Inside Story' and I ..."
But K had already hung up. "Johnny," he said, "I still want you and Vitale to go to this Curry kid's game, and ..."
Collins and Wojo interjected in unison: "Can't we go with Vitale. He's so much fun!"
K rolled his eyes and pointed at a desk in the office on which sat two computers. "Here's what you two are gonna do," he said. "Sit down at these two computer terminals and go to the UNCBasketball bulletin boards. Log in under any one of these 8 names." K handed the boys a piece of paper. "Then just start trashing Doherty. Use all the names. Start as many threads as you can. And for God's sake don't let anyone know who you are. God I wish Mike Brey were here."
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PART 7
Three days later Dawkins sat in the death seat of a rented Ford Explorer, frozen in fear as it careened along the backroads of North Carolina, Dick Vitale at the wheel.
"This is awesome baby!! I haven't been to a diaper dandy game in years!! The enthusiasm, the excitement, I can't wait."
"Dick, what is that music you have on?," asked Dawkins.
"That's the king, baby! That's Louis Prima! Don't ya love it?!"
Dawkins didn't answer. Vitale continued. "Who are we going to see again?"
Dawkins sighed. "JamesOn Curry. K wants to make a good impression, so just do your act and keep talking about Duke."
Vitale's eyes twinkled.
"No problem baby!," said Vitale. "You are JOHNNY DAWKINS! The smoothest lefthander ever to ..."
"Hey keep your eyes on the road!"
Vitale grabbed the wheel tightly with two hands and swerved onto the shoulder to avoid a tractor towing a still in his lane. The Explorer went over a large bump, but returned to the road.
"What the hell was that?," said Vitale.
"Ouch!" came a cry from the back of the car. Vitale and Dawkins looked at one another, then stopped the car.
"Who's back there?"
Sheepishly, the two stowaways, Collins and Wojo raised their heads into view. "It's just us. Don't be mad. We just wanted to be with Dick."
"Hey, it's gritty gutty Wojo and gritty gutty Chris Collins! The more the merrier!," screamed Vitale.
Dawkins shook his head and muttered to himself, "I wonder if that job at Elon is still open."
"Hey!," interjected Collins enthusiastically. "Wojo and I were thinking that since we always recruit together it would be cool if Dick referred to us on the air as 'Cujo'. You know--Collins plus Wojo equals Cujo. Get it?"
"Super-sensational idea Cujo!," said Vitale. "What would that make Johnny and me? 'Johntale?' 'DickDawk?' 'JohnnyDick?'"
"We're here, thank God.," said Dawkins. "You two stay in the car. Dick, put on your game face."
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PART 8
Vitale blew into Mebane High School like a hurricane, Dawkins at his heels. "It's awesome baby! I'm here to see my man JamesOn Curry! Gimme a ticket, I gotta see this kid!," said Vitale, rushing past the ticket booth without buying a ticket.
Dawkins put down enough money for two tickets, and tried to catch up to Dick, who was already in the center of a large crowd in the lobby.
"This super-soph is sensational. But not as sensational as the number one program in all of college basketball, the tiffany of college hoops, the Duke University Blue Devils! Johnny, Johnny Dawkins, come over here ..." Vitale continued his Duke commercial for the assembled Mebanians.
Meanwhile, back in the van ...
"Are we supposed to just sit here all night?," asked Wojo.
"Yes we are. You heard Johnny," replied Chris, letting out a long sigh.
"Turn on the radio," urged Wojo. Collins turned on the radio tuned it to a country station.
"Oh man, Faith Hill. I'd like to tug on her McGraw," drooled Chris.
"Man I don't want to hear country music. Find an easy listening station," said Wojo, turning the dial to a Jewel song. Chris grabbed Wojo's arm and the two struggled for control of the radio.
"Quit it!"
"You quit it!"
The ensuing slap fight attracted the attention of fans entering Mebane High School, including Cletus Franklin, who pressed his nose against the window to watch. Collins and Wojo stopped and scanned the smiling, elderly faces pressed up against the glass. He noticed Cletus's face was closest to him, and he shuddered.
"It's that old dude from the other night," he mumbled.
Cletus said something unintelligible through the glass, and winked at Wojo. Then he spit tobacco juice on the window.
"These people are disgusting," offered Wojo.
"Not all of them," said Chris, who was smiling at a comely young woman through his window. He rolled it down.
"Cletus says your friend has a purty mouth," said the girl to Collins, whose smile immediately faded.
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PART 9
Back in Mebane High School, all was going according to plan. Vitale made a triumphant entrance into the Mebane gym, blowing kisses to the fans singing the praises of Duke and Coach K to anyone who would listen. "They call me Dookie V! Hey, I don't care!," he kept saying.
Dawkins chatted up the Mebane fans and passed out paper bibs emblazoned with the Duke seal. After the game, a Mebane victory, Vitale and Dawkins spoke with JamesOn Curry.
"Super-spectacular stupendous game, JamesOn!," gushed Vitale. "Hey, I want you to meet Johnny Dawkins. He and I--we're like a team. DickDawk, or whatever! I don't know!. I just love the kids! Everyone is beautiful!" Vitale was floating in and out of lucidity.
Ignoring Vitale, Dawkins made his pitch.
"JamesOn, we'd love to see you become a Duke Blue Devil," said Dawkins. "Coach K is all about relationships, and we at Duke want to relate to you."
"Thanks," said Curry. "To be honest, I'm kind of a Carolina fan."
Vitale grabbed Curry's arm. "Carolina is a great program. I faxed you the Feinstein article about Carolina from today's Washington Post. Did you get it?," asked Vitale.
"Yeah. But was all that stuff true? I mean, it didn't sound like the Coach Doherty I know," wondered Curry. "Like it tried to make him seem old-fashioned and rigid. And it said that he smokes three packs a day. And that he plays a lot of golf, has a big nose, and invented the four corners. It sounded like ..."
"Hey, what am I, a historian?," interrupted Vitale. "All I know is that you are one super-soph who belongs at the Gothic Wonderland."
"I heard that Coach K uses the F-word a lot," worried Curry. "I'm from kind of a religious background. My grandma taught me not to cuss."
"Hey, what am I, a priest? All I know is that you belong at the Gothic Wonderland," repeated Vitale, his sweaty upper lip quivering and his eyes bulging.
Dawkins tried to answer the question. "Coach K uses salty language now and then. But you have to understand, he's a very angry ... er, competitive person. He just wants his teams to work hard and work together." Dawkins held up his open palm and curled it into a tight fist for emphasis.
"Yeah, he's awesome baby. They've got this fisting thing they all do there, it's awesome with a capital A," screamed Vitale awkwardly into Curry's face.
"Hey man, your spitting on me.," said Curry, pushing the Vitale out of his personal space. "Anyway, I appreciate you coming to see me play and all."
On the way out of the school Dawkins reached for his cell phone to call the boss. As he neared the Explorer he stopped dead in his tracks. There, hog tied to the top of the car, were Cujo, stripped to their underwear, gagged, and drenched in tobacco juice. Flapping in the breeze above them were their clothes, at the top of the flagpole.
Without untying them, Dawkins finished dialing and waited for Coach K to answer.
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PART 10
Back in his office K felt a twinge in his back as he listened to Dawkins. "Just take 'em to the [bleepin] emergency room and have everybody meet me here tomorrow at 9am," he said.
The ride home was quiet. Vitale had passed out in the front seat from all the excitement, while Cujo sat huddled under blankets in the back seat. After a long time, Collins finally spoke up.
"Those Mebanians are a lot tougher than they look, Johnny. They ..."
"They're wiry," added Wojo.
"Yeah, Mebanians are very wiry," agreed Chris.
Collins sighed. "I lost my lucky shirt, the one Quin gave me. He showed me how to use it to pick up undergrads at the Central Campus Pool." Sigh. "He showed me how to turn up the collar, walk past all the girls, flip back my hair, how to take the shirt off slowly, dangle my feet in the pool ... all that stuff he used to do to pick up chicks." He paused. "Oh well, it never seemed to work so well for me anyway."
Dawkins looked at them in the rear view mirror.
"First of all, given what happened tonight, I don't think that was your lucky shirt. Second, Quin also had a law degree and didn't look like he just graduated from the fourth grade. The guy is just a chick magnet. I tell you, he must be shooting blanks. Otherwise, he'd have more kids than Sean Kemp."
Before Cujo could respond, Vitale called out in his sleep, "Awesome baby!" as his hand smashed into the passenger side window.
"What the hell?" asked Wojo.
"He plays tennis in his sleep," explained Dawkins. "Sometimes I have to put restraints on him."
"Coach K is gonna kill us. He's gonna put us in the love house."said Wojo.
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PART 11
The next morning Cujo stood in K’s office, heads bowed.
“I was gonna take away your [bleepin] chairs and make you stand for the rest of the season,” said K, “but after looking at these emergency room reports it looks like you won’t be doing much sitting anyway. [bleep], you’re lucky you didn’t get hepatitis or something.” K leaned back in his chair. “I hope this kid is worth it. He’s not one of these kids with braids in his hair or anything like Rip Hamilton or T.J. Ford, is he?”
“No Coach. He’s normal.”
“Good,” said K, “‘cause if he did have braids Matt Doherty’d probably get his hair braided too. If you ask me Ford and Hamilton look like the [bleepin] offspring of David Thompson and Pippi Longstocking, for [bleeps] sake.
“Who’s David Thompson?” asked Collins.
“Who’s Pippi Longstocking?” asked Wojo.
“Oh, she’s that little freckly girl with pigtails, from the children’s book,” explained Collins. “She’s always having great adventures. One time, she was on this boat …”
“Do you to [bleeps] ever shut the [bleep] up?” interrupted K.
K pressed a button on the telephone. “Any messages Rosemary?”
“Don’t forget, today’s your regular lunch with Dick Paparo at the Washington Duke. And John Feinstein called. He’s subbing on Sports Reporters and wants to know if you need him to say anything.
“Yeah, tell him … tell him to say he heard from an unnamed source that Jon Holmes is spending too much time cow-tipping and not enough time in class.”
Wojo and Chris chuckled, and high-fived one another.
“Also,” continued Rosemary, “Jay Bilas called.”
K’s face grew red. “[bleep] Jay Bilas! [bleep] him! Tell him that we are not relating with him any more! What’s the [bleepin] use of having one of our people on TV if he won’t [bleepin] shill for us like Kenny Smith! I’m not gonna have Jay [bleepin] Bilas [bleeping] our program! Send him a relationship termination card!”
“OK Coach,” said Rosemary cheerfully. “Also, Jason Williams is here.”
Wojo’s face went white as a sheet at the sound of J-Will’s name. He slowly backed into a corner, smacking himself in the forehead and grabbing at his own hair, a la Chris Farley.
“I am SO stupid! How could I be so STUPID!”
Williams strolled confidently into K’s office wearing a floor-length leather overcoat. He nodded to Collins, ignored Wojo, and sat down in front of K’s desk.
“What can I do for you Jason?” asked K.
Jason spoke quietly, calmly, and confidently. “Coach, I’m not complaining, all right? But when I got up this morning, my overnight laundry and my breakfast were no where to be seen. So I had to go to chess club this morning without a good breakfast and without my “Ask me about chess” t-shirt.”
K looked at Wojo, whose self-flagellation continued in the corner. Jason continued, with subtle hint of righteous indignation.
“And as you know, I’m a very instinctual person. I operate on instinct. If I am thinking about my stomach growling, or my shirt, I can’t be very instinctual, now can I? Now maybe it is your policy to hamstring my instincts with hunger or unfamiliar clothing …”
“No, no, no, Jason,” said K, walking around the desk to put his arm around Jason. “No, we’re not trying to do anything of the kind. Wojo was in the hospital last night and just couldn’t get to it. It won’t happen again. We love your instincts.”
“OK, well … if he was in the hospital I guess …” Jason brightened up. K ushered him out of the office. Wojo edged back out of the corner as K returned.
“Wojo, just get him some flowers and a …” A breathless Johnny Dawkins came running in.
“Coach! Bad news. After Dick and I left last night, JamesOn went out to a place called …” Dawkins looked at a piece of paper in his hand. “… a place called ‘Mebane Bait and Barbecue’ for a post-game meal. And guess who just ‘happened’ to be there?”
“Matt Doherty,” answered K.
“Matt Doherty,” echoed Dawkins.
K looked at Dawkins and motioned toward the closet. Dawkins walked purposefully to the closet, reached inside the door, and flipped a switch. Cujo’s eyes grew wide as one of the walls of K’s office retracted revealing an enormous computer screen and audio speaker bank behind. From the floor rose a chair and computer keyboard. A stunned Chris Collins’ knees buckled and he slowly sat down in a chair—grimaced—and slowly stood again, his mouth hanging open.
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PART 13
Out from behind the large computer screen trotted a fluffy white cat, which leapt up onto K’s lap. K stroked the cat as a large map of the United States materialized on the screen. Sprinkled across the map were the faces of the coaches of 40 or so Division I men’s basketball programs, each superimposed over his team’s city. Moving the cursor around the map, K spoke to Cujo.
“It’s about time you two [bleeps] knew about this,” said K. “With the mere push of a [bleepin] button I can change the strength of Gary Williams’ valium prescription … or send the NCSU Board of Trustees a copy of Herb Sendek’s college economics paper criticizing agricultural subsidies … or send Rick Majerus a [bleepin] complimentary side of beef. At the same time, I can use this computer to type up the cheer sheets for the crazies.”
K clicked on Matt Doherty’s head. On the screen appeared a short bio of Doherty.
“Computer, play the audio tape of Matt Doherty’s most recent conversation with JamesOn Curry,” ordered K.
A voice sounding not unlike that of Nurse Chapell on the original Star Trek series answered.
“With or without accompanying transcript?”
“With transcript, you [bleep].”
In a moment the screen went blank. Then words appeared as an audio tape began to play.”
CURRY: “Hey Coach Doherty! What are you doing here?”
DOHERTY: “JamesOn! I love it here. I come here for barbecue. And bait. How ‘bout you?”
CURRY: “I had a game tonight. Just celebrating. Hey, I didn’t know you were into P. Diddy.”
DOHERTY: “Oh, you mean my t-shirt? Oh yeah. I been down with Puffy for a while. That lawsuit against him was whack.”
CURRY: “I hear that.”
DOHERTY” “Hey, this is my posse, JamesOn. This is Fred. That’s Doug. This is Bob …”
“Computer, stop tape,” ordered K. K put down the cat. “Off you go Mr. Bigglesworth.”
The cat scurried back behind the wall as K turned to Cujo. “You see what Doherty does? He [bleepin] bonds with them. That’s what Q did. That’s what Tommy did. That’s what you [bleeps] have to learn to do. I sure as [bleep] am not gonna do it. I didn't understand a word of that conversation, but I could tell it was working. Can you do that?”
Cujo nodded vigorously as K turned back to the computer screen. “Coach, what dirt do we have on Doherty?” asked Wojo gleefully.
“Not much. We have a 30 minute highlight reel of all the times he’s cried at press conferences. It makes Dick Vermeil look like John Wayne. But other than that, he hasn’t given us too [bleepin] much yet.
“Coach, do Q and Tommy and Brey know about this?” asked a concerned Collins.
“Why do you think they never recruit out players?” responded K.
“But surely you don’t have any dirt on Tommy,” said Collins, his voice cracking.
“No, not really. Only that his so-called ‘American made’ car was actually built in Canada. That may not sound like much, but in Michigan it’s enough to get your house firebombed,” said K.
With a push of button K turned off the computer and turned to Cujo.
“I’m going to give you guys another chance with this kid. But I don’t want you going back to Mebane. One of you is liable to wind up pregnant. Curry’s team is playing in Mount Pilot on Thursday. I want you two there, and this time I don’t want any [bleepin] screw ups. Get to know this kid, on his level.”
Cujo answered in unison. “Yes sir.”
“By the way, you guys did good work over at the UNCbasketball.com board. I’m [bleepin] surprised, but it’s good [bleepin] work just the same.”
Cujo looked at Dawkins, wondering whether they should tell K about Elton’s assistance. Dawkins shook his head no. K continued.
“By the way, I have a question about one of those post names you used … ‘mustbethemoneyprimetime’. What’s that supposed to mean anyway?”
Cujo wondered if they should tell K that ‘mustbe’ was really Elton Brand.
“No special meaning,” offered Wojo.
“OK then,” finished K. “Off you [bleepin] go.”
“One more question coach,” asked Collins as they turned to leave. “Who pays for all this equipment? I mean, it must cost a fortune.”
Before K could answer, Rosemary’s voice came over the intercom.
“There’s someone here to see you, Coach.”
“Who is it?”
“He won’t say,” she answered.
“Well what does he [bleepin] look like?” demanded K.
“Like the little guy on the front of the Lucky Charms cereal box,” came Rosemary’s answer.
K smiled. “Well, speak of the devil.”
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PART 14
“Phil, won’t you come in.” K greeted Nike CEO Phil Knight as he hustled the three assistants out of his office. Wearing a creepy half-grin, Knight slithered into a chair in front of K’s desk.
“Got here as fassssst as I could,” said Knight, in a low, nasal tone.
“Thanks. Listen, I need a little help with a [bleepin] recruit. Can you arrange some [bleepin] thing to increase our visibility with him?”
“Sssssssssure,” hissed Knight. “I think we can work out sssssssssssomething.”
By Thursday night the stage was set. Nike had announced plans to award their new “North Carolina High School and College Players of the Month” awards, with the ceremony to take place at halftime of the Mebane-Mount Pilot game. The high school honoree was JamesOn Curry, and the college honoree was Jason Williams.
K, Knight and Williams pulled into the Mount Pilot High School parking lot in K’s shiny new Lexus. Williams pulled out a mirror and primped.
“OK, let’s go over what’s gonna [bleepin] happen. Jason? Jason, can you please listen up for a second, nnnkay?”
Jason put away his compact.
“OK,” said K. “Collins and Wojo should already be in there. They’ll do the hard sell on Curry. You guys are just here for the [bleepin’] award ceremony and to represent ‘Duke excellence’. Don’t [bleepin] put the squeeze on this Curry kid. Just say hello and do your [bleepin] thing. Let Wojo and Collins close the deal.
“And Phil,” continued K. “Let’s test your earpiece.”
K spoke into a microphone he held in his hand while Knight raised his hand to his ear. “Testing, one, two, [bleepin] three.”
“Worksssss OK,” said Knight. “I can hear you.”
“OK, let me see if I can hear you,” said K.
Knight leaned his head forward toward a hidden microphone in his lapel, but paused. “What should I ssssssay?”
“Just say any [bleepin] thing. It’s only a test. And don’t lean over like that. You look like your gonna throw up on yourself. Just [bleepin] speak as you normally would.”
Knight cleared his throat. “I have … dreams … about Tiger Woodsssssss. Disturbing dreams …”
“[bleep] Phil! All right, just go! And say what I tell you to [bleepin] say.”
Cujo were in the gym, standing courtside while the Mebane team warmed up. Wojo was sporting a new oversized black LA Kings Jersey, sideways baseball hat, wrap-around shades and oversized baggy jeans that bunched up around his large, heavy-duty work boots. Collins wore an open black vest with no undershirt, extra-long black Duke basketball shorts, and black high-tops with no socks. On his chest was a large press-on tattoo of a skull and crossbones.
“Word up, JamesOn! JamesOn! Word up!” said Collins, while Wojo struck a slouching, bored pose at his side. Curry tried to ignore them until at last the buzzer sounded, and Cujo took their seats. Just then J-Will and Knight entered the gym and sat on the opposite side from Cujo. The crowd buzzed at the sight of Williams. Throughout the first half Williams signed autographs while Knight hissed into his cell phone or described the action to K back in the car.
“This Curry is sssssssssspectacular,” said Knight. "He's putting the ball in the basket many more timessss than the otherssss. And you should see how he bouncesssss it!"
Williams stuck his head in Knight’s chest and yelled into the mike.
“Coach, I’m thirsty! I need a soda!” The sound pierced K’s ear and he jumped and smashed his head on the roof of the car.
“[bleep] it Phil, get Jason a [bleepin] soda!” barked K into Knight’s ear.
Knight returned from the concession stand just in time for the halftime festivities. As Curry returned from the locker room, Knight and Jason walked out to center court. Knight took hold of the microphone.
K (into Knight’s ear): “We at Nike are pleased and proud to have a relationship with the Duke University yada yada yada … You know what to say Phil.”
Phil did know what to say. He presented the Nike award to Jason accompanied by profuse praise of Duke and Coach K. When he turned to Curry, K resumed his instructions.
K: “OK, say ‘Now we go from excellence to more excellence’.”
Knight: “Now we go from excssssssssellence to more excssssssellence.”
K: JamesOn Curry, I know that some day you will follow in Jason Williams’ footsteps. That is, I’m sure that one day I’ll be presenting you with the same award I just gave him. But for now …”
Knight followed the script to the letter.
“Woo woo!” screamed Cujo.
K: “OK, say ‘Congratulations JamesOn on a fine month and a fine season.’ That oughtta impress the little [bleep].”
Knight: “Congratulations JamesOn on a fine month and a fine season. That ought to impress the little [bleep].”
The crowd fell silent.
K: “No Phil! [bleep]! Don’t say that last part!”
Knight: “No Phil. [bleep]. Don’t say that last part.”
K: “[bleep] [bleepin] [bleepity] …
Knight: “[bleep] [bleepin] [bleepity] …”
The crowd gasped. Mothers covered their children’s ears. Finally, boos sprinkled down from the crowd. Jason Williams grabbed his trophy and headed for the door. JamesOn Curry looked at his coach, who just shrugged. Knight continued channeling K’s remarks verbatim.
Knight: “[bleep] Phil. I’ll [bleepin] [bleep] you so hard your [bleep] will come out your [bleep], you [bleeper].”
Finally K, overcome with frustration, fell silent. Then so did Knight. Coming out of his fog but seemingly unaware of what happened. Knight handed Curry the trophy and shook his hand, prompting a half-heated smattering of applause. Knight then followed Williams out of the gym, and the game resumed.
“That was different.” said Chris.
“Yeah,” said Wojo, “usually people don’t say the f-word so much during these award presentations.”
After the game, Cujo headed for the visitors’ locker room. There they were stopped by the Mount Pilot gym teacher, who was guarding the door.
“Sorry kids. Only players allowed in the locker room.”
“We’re not kids,” offered Chris. “We’re assistant coaches at Duke.”
“What a coincidence, so am I,” responded the teacher. “Now run along.”
“No really. I’m Chris Collins and this Steve Wojo … Wojo-how … This is Wojo,” implored Collins. “We don’t usually dress this way.”
“Fellas, I’m gonna lose my temper. Now beat it.”
Chris prided himself on his ability to read a situation. But his instincts seemed to be failing him this day.
The next morning Chris sat in his bed at Duke Hospital reading the Durham Herald-Sun. A nurse checked his bandages while a pimply faced but socially inept young resident attended to his roommate Wojo. The banner headline in the paper read “Nike CEO Uses Foul Language at School Children: Tiger Wood, Michael Jordan and 37 College Coaches Rush to His Defense.” Chris chuckled as he read the article.
“Heh-heh-heh. That was cool.”
“Hold still there Beavis,” admonished the nurse as she finished checking the bandages. “OK, you two can go. We just kept you overnight for observation, and to protect you from others. And yourselves.”
At about this time Coach K sat, neatly-dressed, at the dais in the ballroom of a large downtown hotel, waiting his turn to speak a gathering of corporate officials. Leaving only Johnny Dawkins at the basketball offices.
“Yes Rosemary?” said Johnny, answering the intercom in his modest office.
“There’s a recruit here to see Coach K. Can you see him?”
“Sure.”
It was JamesOn Curry.
“JamesOn, have a seat. How are you? Hey, I heard about last night. Kind of a mess, huh?”
“Yeah. But funny too,” said Curry.
Dawkins smiled.
“Coach,” said Curry. “I’m asking all the college coaches to leave me alone for a while. I’m only a sophomore and its already getting crazy.”
“OK, OK, JamesOn,” said Dawkins. “Can we call you next fall?”
“Sure.”
“JamesOn, Duke is really a good place to be, despite what it may look like to you right now.”
“Coach, let me ask you something,” said Curry. “Why did you come to Duke when you were a player?”
“Well,” said Dawkins. “Things were a lot different then. I knew that Duke had once been great, and I liked the the feel of the place. But they were losing a LOT then. Still, it just seemed right. Coach K was unproven, but I loved his passion for the game. And by my senior year we were in the NCAA Finals. We didn’t win, but sometimes I think we – that group of us – had an even greater sense of accomplishment than some of our later championship teams had. We built something from the ground up. We started so low, and finished so high. And I think I see something in the eyes of Duke fans when they talk to me or Mark Alarie or David Henderson that I don’t see even when they talk to Bobby Hurley or Christian Laettner or today’s players. The fans really appreciate how we turned it around for Duke.”
Dawkins paused, realizing how Curry might be processing this information. Curry had been soaking it all in and the wheels were turning in his head.
“I made a good choice back then, but I took a gamble," added Dawkins. "Lots of bright young coaches don’t turn it around. Here, you know you’re gonna win, be on TV, and be part of a great institution.”
Back at the downtown hotel, it was K’s turn to speak. As he approached the podium, the crowd stood and cheered while a Duke highlight reel played on the jumbo-tron behind him under the word “TEAMWORK.” The O’Jays “Love Train” blared from the sound system. As Coach K started to speak, JamesOn Curry rose from his seat in Dawkins office.
“Thanks for taking the time to talk to me Coach,” said Curry. “I’m gonna think about what you said.”
Johnny spoke as JamesOn was leaving. “Remember JamesOn, we have something that nobody else has here. We contend every year. Matt may never turn it around at Carolina.”
“Maybe not,” said Curry as he walked out of sight. "But only time will tell."
Dawkins sat down, wondering whether he had blown it with Curry. Just then, Curry poked his head back into the room. “Coach,” he said, “if you get a head coaching job somewhere before I graduate, call me.”
Dawkins sighed.
THE END
[NOTE: This was published in installments in spring of 2002 on the Inside Carolina message boards at insidecarolina.com. It is a parody (duh) -- a "reimaginactment" of how two Duke assistant coaches might have recruited this player. We pick up the action after one of Curry's high school games ....]
PART 1
"... Wojo and Collins met Curry in the locker room after the game and congratulated him on his performance. Curry thanked them, but appeared not to know who they were."
"My daddy coaches the Wizards. Michael Jordan's team. I'm an assistant at Duke. We'd like you to be a Blue Devil. It's neato." Wojo remained silent, but when Collins finished talking Wojo winked at Curry, then leaned over and slapped the floor with his open palms.
"Uh...thanks for coming," said a clearly uncomfortable Curry as he hurried away. "Wooo!" yelled Collins to Curry, after which he and Wojo were escorted out the door.
------------
PART 2
Once outside, Collins and Wojo put on their Duke windbreakers. They were immediately surrounded by a hostile crowd.
"I thought you wuz sum 'em New York sissy boys," said Cletus Franklin of Mebane, who then spit tobacco juice on Wojo's hair.
Wojo turned to confront the 81 year old Franklin, but Collins intervened. "Remember, you're either on the train or your off it," he said.
"You're right," said Wojo, tobacco juice rolling down his neck. "Let's leave."
Collins and Wojo hurried to their Escalade as the mob surrounded the car. "I'll bet you two are on the train," yelled Franklin as the two Duke assistants sped away.
--------------
PART 3
Once safely away from the octagenarian mob, Chris pulled the car off the road. He turned to Wojo, who eyes were full with tears.
"Oh, just look at you. Here, use my hanky." Wojo wiped the tobacco juice from his neck and then the tears from his eyes. "Thanks. It's just so frustrating. I could've taken that guy!"
"I know," said Collins. "But remember ..."
At that Wojo began to scream. "My eyes! My eyes! They're burning! Get water!"
"All I have is lemon perrier," said Chris. "That'll have to do."
Chris doused Wojo's eyes with lemon perrier. After that Wojo felt better.
"Anywho," said Chris, "we've got to uphold the reputation of the university. We can't go fighting people whenever we're provoked."
"But your dad choked Pete Gaudet and he wasn't even provoked." said Wojo.
"I know, but this is different." said Chris. We're official Duke employees. That means we're part of the fist.
"Can I be the middle finger?" said Wojo, a smile creeping onto his face.
"You already are," said Collins. "You already are."
----------
PART 4
When Chris and Wojo finally returned to Cameron it was after midnight.
"Where the [bleep] have you [bleeps] been?" asked Coach K. "I told you to be back here an hour ago. What the [bleep] is that on your neck Wojo--a tattoo?"
"No Sir."
"Well what the [bleep] is it?"
"A tobacco juice stain sir."
Coach K rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to even ask … What happened with this kid--what's his [bleepin] name?"
"JamesOn Curry" volunteered Chris.
"Anybody in my neighborhood in Chicago with that first name never would've seen his fifth birthday," muttered K. "How'd it go?"
"Not so well," said Wojo. Chris Collins jumped in. "He didn't seem to like us. Wojo slapped the floor and everything."
"[bleep]. Did you mention the fist?"
"We forgot." Coach K exploded.
"[bleepin] [bleepity] [bleep], does Johnny have to do everything around here?! JOHNNY! Johnny, get in here."
In walked Johnny Dawkins looking dapper in a black tuxedo. "What?"
"What the bleep are you wearing, for [bleep] sake? You look like a [bleepin] undertaker. Were you at some kind of party tonight?"
"No. I just decided to start wearing these. I was talking to Q and he said ..."
"Never mind," interrupted K. "Johnny, you're handling this Jim Curry thing from now on." K turned to Collins and Wojo. "[bleep] I swear, you two. When I was recruiting I once drove all night to Niagara Falls just to ..."
Coach K stopped talking and stared at Wojo, whose eyes were bulging wide. "Niagara Falls," said Wojo. "Slowly I turn, step by step ..."
-----------
PART 5
"Slowly I turn, step by step, inch by inch..."
"Shut the [bleep] up you fat [bleep]," said Coach K, slapping Wojo on the back of his head and out of his Curly-trance. "Johnny, I want you and Dick at this Jim-bob or whateverhisname is's next game. Make sure you bring Dick."
"Awww. Do I have to?," said Johnny. "He always wants to drive and it scares me. What with the eye and all. And he never shuts up."
"I know, I know. But kids know him. Most of them were in diapers last time you were somebody. Now go. But first, turn on the tube. One of my commercials is almost on."
Chris and Wojo lunged simultaneously for the TV remote, but their heads collided and they knocked each other to floor. Both men lay nearly motionless, groaning. Ignoring them, Dawkins switched on the television to a news report about the Chris and Wojo incident in Mebane.
"[bleep!]," said K. "This is all I need. Turn it up. I can't hear it above their caterwalling."
"... assistant coaches were surrounded by elderly Mebanians late tonight after a high school basketball game. The two were apparently in town to recruit local star JamesOn Curry, but somehow provoked the ire of the crowd. 'I just dint like the look 'um,' said Mebane resident Merlene Watts. 'They just didn't seem ... well ... normal.' Another local resident, 16 year old Missy Wilson, encountered the Duke coaches at the concession stand. 'The fat one said he wanted sauerkraut on his hot dog. Well I didn't know what that was, so I was like, what? And he was all like, sauerkraut. And the other one kept krinkling up his face like he was gonna cry or something. I'm glad they got beat up.' Apparently no one was injured in the fracas. This has been Twinkie Brooks reporting. Back to you Vince."
K turned off the TV in disgust and gave the semi-conscious and still prone Collins a vigorous kick in the stomach. "I guess we'll have to try plan B."
-------------
PART 6
"Plan B. What's Plan B?," asked Dawkins?
"Johnny, get me John Feinstein on the phone," said K.
"But it's 1 am?," said Johnny.
K gave Dawkins an icy stare, and Johnny picked up the phone and started dialing. "And throw some ice water on these two [bleepin] maroons," added K.
In seconds, K was talking to Feinstein. "Coach, do you know what time it is?," asked the groggy Feinstein, who had been fast asleep in his footie pajamas.
"Of course I know the [bleepin] time you pimply [bleep]! Now listen up. I need an article."
"But Dean's retired. You said no more articles after Dean retired."
"Listen fatboy. You're either on the train or you're not. Which is it?" K stepped back to allow Dawkins to toss a bucket of water on the slumbering assistant coaches, who slowly came to their senses. Feinstein paused for a moment. He clearly wanted off the train, but was afraid. He let out a whiny sigh.
"But I can't write that the game is passing Matt Doherty by," said Feinstein. "He's a young guy for gosh sakes."
"You'll write what I tell you [bleepin'] to write. What I need is an article that makes it look like Doh's job is in jeopardy. And I need it right away. Fax me a draft in an hour."
"But I have to get up early. I'm appearing on 'The View' tomorrow, promoting my new book, 'Rhythmic Gymnastics: the Inside Story' and I ..."
But K had already hung up. "Johnny," he said, "I still want you and Vitale to go to this Curry kid's game, and ..."
Collins and Wojo interjected in unison: "Can't we go with Vitale. He's so much fun!"
K rolled his eyes and pointed at a desk in the office on which sat two computers. "Here's what you two are gonna do," he said. "Sit down at these two computer terminals and go to the UNCBasketball bulletin boards. Log in under any one of these 8 names." K handed the boys a piece of paper. "Then just start trashing Doherty. Use all the names. Start as many threads as you can. And for God's sake don't let anyone know who you are. God I wish Mike Brey were here."
-------------
PART 7
Three days later Dawkins sat in the death seat of a rented Ford Explorer, frozen in fear as it careened along the backroads of North Carolina, Dick Vitale at the wheel.
"This is awesome baby!! I haven't been to a diaper dandy game in years!! The enthusiasm, the excitement, I can't wait."
"Dick, what is that music you have on?," asked Dawkins.
"That's the king, baby! That's Louis Prima! Don't ya love it?!"
Dawkins didn't answer. Vitale continued. "Who are we going to see again?"
Dawkins sighed. "JamesOn Curry. K wants to make a good impression, so just do your act and keep talking about Duke."
Vitale's eyes twinkled.
"No problem baby!," said Vitale. "You are JOHNNY DAWKINS! The smoothest lefthander ever to ..."
"Hey keep your eyes on the road!"
Vitale grabbed the wheel tightly with two hands and swerved onto the shoulder to avoid a tractor towing a still in his lane. The Explorer went over a large bump, but returned to the road.
"What the hell was that?," said Vitale.
"Ouch!" came a cry from the back of the car. Vitale and Dawkins looked at one another, then stopped the car.
"Who's back there?"
Sheepishly, the two stowaways, Collins and Wojo raised their heads into view. "It's just us. Don't be mad. We just wanted to be with Dick."
"Hey, it's gritty gutty Wojo and gritty gutty Chris Collins! The more the merrier!," screamed Vitale.
Dawkins shook his head and muttered to himself, "I wonder if that job at Elon is still open."
"Hey!," interjected Collins enthusiastically. "Wojo and I were thinking that since we always recruit together it would be cool if Dick referred to us on the air as 'Cujo'. You know--Collins plus Wojo equals Cujo. Get it?"
"Super-sensational idea Cujo!," said Vitale. "What would that make Johnny and me? 'Johntale?' 'DickDawk?' 'JohnnyDick?'"
"We're here, thank God.," said Dawkins. "You two stay in the car. Dick, put on your game face."
-------------
PART 8
Vitale blew into Mebane High School like a hurricane, Dawkins at his heels. "It's awesome baby! I'm here to see my man JamesOn Curry! Gimme a ticket, I gotta see this kid!," said Vitale, rushing past the ticket booth without buying a ticket.
Dawkins put down enough money for two tickets, and tried to catch up to Dick, who was already in the center of a large crowd in the lobby.
"This super-soph is sensational. But not as sensational as the number one program in all of college basketball, the tiffany of college hoops, the Duke University Blue Devils! Johnny, Johnny Dawkins, come over here ..." Vitale continued his Duke commercial for the assembled Mebanians.
Meanwhile, back in the van ...
"Are we supposed to just sit here all night?," asked Wojo.
"Yes we are. You heard Johnny," replied Chris, letting out a long sigh.
"Turn on the radio," urged Wojo. Collins turned on the radio tuned it to a country station.
"Oh man, Faith Hill. I'd like to tug on her McGraw," drooled Chris.
"Man I don't want to hear country music. Find an easy listening station," said Wojo, turning the dial to a Jewel song. Chris grabbed Wojo's arm and the two struggled for control of the radio.
"Quit it!"
"You quit it!"
The ensuing slap fight attracted the attention of fans entering Mebane High School, including Cletus Franklin, who pressed his nose against the window to watch. Collins and Wojo stopped and scanned the smiling, elderly faces pressed up against the glass. He noticed Cletus's face was closest to him, and he shuddered.
"It's that old dude from the other night," he mumbled.
Cletus said something unintelligible through the glass, and winked at Wojo. Then he spit tobacco juice on the window.
"These people are disgusting," offered Wojo.
"Not all of them," said Chris, who was smiling at a comely young woman through his window. He rolled it down.
"Cletus says your friend has a purty mouth," said the girl to Collins, whose smile immediately faded.
------------
PART 9
Back in Mebane High School, all was going according to plan. Vitale made a triumphant entrance into the Mebane gym, blowing kisses to the fans singing the praises of Duke and Coach K to anyone who would listen. "They call me Dookie V! Hey, I don't care!," he kept saying.
Dawkins chatted up the Mebane fans and passed out paper bibs emblazoned with the Duke seal. After the game, a Mebane victory, Vitale and Dawkins spoke with JamesOn Curry.
"Super-spectacular stupendous game, JamesOn!," gushed Vitale. "Hey, I want you to meet Johnny Dawkins. He and I--we're like a team. DickDawk, or whatever! I don't know!. I just love the kids! Everyone is beautiful!" Vitale was floating in and out of lucidity.
Ignoring Vitale, Dawkins made his pitch.
"JamesOn, we'd love to see you become a Duke Blue Devil," said Dawkins. "Coach K is all about relationships, and we at Duke want to relate to you."
"Thanks," said Curry. "To be honest, I'm kind of a Carolina fan."
Vitale grabbed Curry's arm. "Carolina is a great program. I faxed you the Feinstein article about Carolina from today's Washington Post. Did you get it?," asked Vitale.
"Yeah. But was all that stuff true? I mean, it didn't sound like the Coach Doherty I know," wondered Curry. "Like it tried to make him seem old-fashioned and rigid. And it said that he smokes three packs a day. And that he plays a lot of golf, has a big nose, and invented the four corners. It sounded like ..."
"Hey, what am I, a historian?," interrupted Vitale. "All I know is that you are one super-soph who belongs at the Gothic Wonderland."
"I heard that Coach K uses the F-word a lot," worried Curry. "I'm from kind of a religious background. My grandma taught me not to cuss."
"Hey, what am I, a priest? All I know is that you belong at the Gothic Wonderland," repeated Vitale, his sweaty upper lip quivering and his eyes bulging.
Dawkins tried to answer the question. "Coach K uses salty language now and then. But you have to understand, he's a very angry ... er, competitive person. He just wants his teams to work hard and work together." Dawkins held up his open palm and curled it into a tight fist for emphasis.
"Yeah, he's awesome baby. They've got this fisting thing they all do there, it's awesome with a capital A," screamed Vitale awkwardly into Curry's face.
"Hey man, your spitting on me.," said Curry, pushing the Vitale out of his personal space. "Anyway, I appreciate you coming to see me play and all."
On the way out of the school Dawkins reached for his cell phone to call the boss. As he neared the Explorer he stopped dead in his tracks. There, hog tied to the top of the car, were Cujo, stripped to their underwear, gagged, and drenched in tobacco juice. Flapping in the breeze above them were their clothes, at the top of the flagpole.
Without untying them, Dawkins finished dialing and waited for Coach K to answer.
----------------
PART 10
Back in his office K felt a twinge in his back as he listened to Dawkins. "Just take 'em to the [bleepin] emergency room and have everybody meet me here tomorrow at 9am," he said.
The ride home was quiet. Vitale had passed out in the front seat from all the excitement, while Cujo sat huddled under blankets in the back seat. After a long time, Collins finally spoke up.
"Those Mebanians are a lot tougher than they look, Johnny. They ..."
"They're wiry," added Wojo.
"Yeah, Mebanians are very wiry," agreed Chris.
Collins sighed. "I lost my lucky shirt, the one Quin gave me. He showed me how to use it to pick up undergrads at the Central Campus Pool." Sigh. "He showed me how to turn up the collar, walk past all the girls, flip back my hair, how to take the shirt off slowly, dangle my feet in the pool ... all that stuff he used to do to pick up chicks." He paused. "Oh well, it never seemed to work so well for me anyway."
Dawkins looked at them in the rear view mirror.
"First of all, given what happened tonight, I don't think that was your lucky shirt. Second, Quin also had a law degree and didn't look like he just graduated from the fourth grade. The guy is just a chick magnet. I tell you, he must be shooting blanks. Otherwise, he'd have more kids than Sean Kemp."
Before Cujo could respond, Vitale called out in his sleep, "Awesome baby!" as his hand smashed into the passenger side window.
"What the hell?" asked Wojo.
"He plays tennis in his sleep," explained Dawkins. "Sometimes I have to put restraints on him."
"Coach K is gonna kill us. He's gonna put us in the love house."said Wojo.
--------
PART 11
The next morning Cujo stood in K’s office, heads bowed.
“I was gonna take away your [bleepin] chairs and make you stand for the rest of the season,” said K, “but after looking at these emergency room reports it looks like you won’t be doing much sitting anyway. [bleep], you’re lucky you didn’t get hepatitis or something.” K leaned back in his chair. “I hope this kid is worth it. He’s not one of these kids with braids in his hair or anything like Rip Hamilton or T.J. Ford, is he?”
“No Coach. He’s normal.”
“Good,” said K, “‘cause if he did have braids Matt Doherty’d probably get his hair braided too. If you ask me Ford and Hamilton look like the [bleepin] offspring of David Thompson and Pippi Longstocking, for [bleeps] sake.
“Who’s David Thompson?” asked Collins.
“Who’s Pippi Longstocking?” asked Wojo.
“Oh, she’s that little freckly girl with pigtails, from the children’s book,” explained Collins. “She’s always having great adventures. One time, she was on this boat …”
“Do you to [bleeps] ever shut the [bleep] up?” interrupted K.
K pressed a button on the telephone. “Any messages Rosemary?”
“Don’t forget, today’s your regular lunch with Dick Paparo at the Washington Duke. And John Feinstein called. He’s subbing on Sports Reporters and wants to know if you need him to say anything.
“Yeah, tell him … tell him to say he heard from an unnamed source that Jon Holmes is spending too much time cow-tipping and not enough time in class.”
Wojo and Chris chuckled, and high-fived one another.
“Also,” continued Rosemary, “Jay Bilas called.”
K’s face grew red. “[bleep] Jay Bilas! [bleep] him! Tell him that we are not relating with him any more! What’s the [bleepin] use of having one of our people on TV if he won’t [bleepin] shill for us like Kenny Smith! I’m not gonna have Jay [bleepin] Bilas [bleeping] our program! Send him a relationship termination card!”
“OK Coach,” said Rosemary cheerfully. “Also, Jason Williams is here.”
Wojo’s face went white as a sheet at the sound of J-Will’s name. He slowly backed into a corner, smacking himself in the forehead and grabbing at his own hair, a la Chris Farley.
“I am SO stupid! How could I be so STUPID!”
Williams strolled confidently into K’s office wearing a floor-length leather overcoat. He nodded to Collins, ignored Wojo, and sat down in front of K’s desk.
“What can I do for you Jason?” asked K.
Jason spoke quietly, calmly, and confidently. “Coach, I’m not complaining, all right? But when I got up this morning, my overnight laundry and my breakfast were no where to be seen. So I had to go to chess club this morning without a good breakfast and without my “Ask me about chess” t-shirt.”
K looked at Wojo, whose self-flagellation continued in the corner. Jason continued, with subtle hint of righteous indignation.
“And as you know, I’m a very instinctual person. I operate on instinct. If I am thinking about my stomach growling, or my shirt, I can’t be very instinctual, now can I? Now maybe it is your policy to hamstring my instincts with hunger or unfamiliar clothing …”
“No, no, no, Jason,” said K, walking around the desk to put his arm around Jason. “No, we’re not trying to do anything of the kind. Wojo was in the hospital last night and just couldn’t get to it. It won’t happen again. We love your instincts.”
“OK, well … if he was in the hospital I guess …” Jason brightened up. K ushered him out of the office. Wojo edged back out of the corner as K returned.
“Wojo, just get him some flowers and a …” A breathless Johnny Dawkins came running in.
“Coach! Bad news. After Dick and I left last night, JamesOn went out to a place called …” Dawkins looked at a piece of paper in his hand. “… a place called ‘Mebane Bait and Barbecue’ for a post-game meal. And guess who just ‘happened’ to be there?”
“Matt Doherty,” answered K.
“Matt Doherty,” echoed Dawkins.
K looked at Dawkins and motioned toward the closet. Dawkins walked purposefully to the closet, reached inside the door, and flipped a switch. Cujo’s eyes grew wide as one of the walls of K’s office retracted revealing an enormous computer screen and audio speaker bank behind. From the floor rose a chair and computer keyboard. A stunned Chris Collins’ knees buckled and he slowly sat down in a chair—grimaced—and slowly stood again, his mouth hanging open.
-----------
PART 13
Out from behind the large computer screen trotted a fluffy white cat, which leapt up onto K’s lap. K stroked the cat as a large map of the United States materialized on the screen. Sprinkled across the map were the faces of the coaches of 40 or so Division I men’s basketball programs, each superimposed over his team’s city. Moving the cursor around the map, K spoke to Cujo.
“It’s about time you two [bleeps] knew about this,” said K. “With the mere push of a [bleepin] button I can change the strength of Gary Williams’ valium prescription … or send the NCSU Board of Trustees a copy of Herb Sendek’s college economics paper criticizing agricultural subsidies … or send Rick Majerus a [bleepin] complimentary side of beef. At the same time, I can use this computer to type up the cheer sheets for the crazies.”
K clicked on Matt Doherty’s head. On the screen appeared a short bio of Doherty.
“Computer, play the audio tape of Matt Doherty’s most recent conversation with JamesOn Curry,” ordered K.
A voice sounding not unlike that of Nurse Chapell on the original Star Trek series answered.
“With or without accompanying transcript?”
“With transcript, you [bleep].”
In a moment the screen went blank. Then words appeared as an audio tape began to play.”
CURRY: “Hey Coach Doherty! What are you doing here?”
DOHERTY: “JamesOn! I love it here. I come here for barbecue. And bait. How ‘bout you?”
CURRY: “I had a game tonight. Just celebrating. Hey, I didn’t know you were into P. Diddy.”
DOHERTY: “Oh, you mean my t-shirt? Oh yeah. I been down with Puffy for a while. That lawsuit against him was whack.”
CURRY: “I hear that.”
DOHERTY” “Hey, this is my posse, JamesOn. This is Fred. That’s Doug. This is Bob …”
“Computer, stop tape,” ordered K. K put down the cat. “Off you go Mr. Bigglesworth.”
The cat scurried back behind the wall as K turned to Cujo. “You see what Doherty does? He [bleepin] bonds with them. That’s what Q did. That’s what Tommy did. That’s what you [bleeps] have to learn to do. I sure as [bleep] am not gonna do it. I didn't understand a word of that conversation, but I could tell it was working. Can you do that?”
Cujo nodded vigorously as K turned back to the computer screen. “Coach, what dirt do we have on Doherty?” asked Wojo gleefully.
“Not much. We have a 30 minute highlight reel of all the times he’s cried at press conferences. It makes Dick Vermeil look like John Wayne. But other than that, he hasn’t given us too [bleepin] much yet.
“Coach, do Q and Tommy and Brey know about this?” asked a concerned Collins.
“Why do you think they never recruit out players?” responded K.
“But surely you don’t have any dirt on Tommy,” said Collins, his voice cracking.
“No, not really. Only that his so-called ‘American made’ car was actually built in Canada. That may not sound like much, but in Michigan it’s enough to get your house firebombed,” said K.
With a push of button K turned off the computer and turned to Cujo.
“I’m going to give you guys another chance with this kid. But I don’t want you going back to Mebane. One of you is liable to wind up pregnant. Curry’s team is playing in Mount Pilot on Thursday. I want you two there, and this time I don’t want any [bleepin] screw ups. Get to know this kid, on his level.”
Cujo answered in unison. “Yes sir.”
“By the way, you guys did good work over at the UNCbasketball.com board. I’m [bleepin] surprised, but it’s good [bleepin] work just the same.”
Cujo looked at Dawkins, wondering whether they should tell K about Elton’s assistance. Dawkins shook his head no. K continued.
“By the way, I have a question about one of those post names you used … ‘mustbethemoneyprimetime’. What’s that supposed to mean anyway?”
Cujo wondered if they should tell K that ‘mustbe’ was really Elton Brand.
“No special meaning,” offered Wojo.
“OK then,” finished K. “Off you [bleepin] go.”
“One more question coach,” asked Collins as they turned to leave. “Who pays for all this equipment? I mean, it must cost a fortune.”
Before K could answer, Rosemary’s voice came over the intercom.
“There’s someone here to see you, Coach.”
“Who is it?”
“He won’t say,” she answered.
“Well what does he [bleepin] look like?” demanded K.
“Like the little guy on the front of the Lucky Charms cereal box,” came Rosemary’s answer.
K smiled. “Well, speak of the devil.”
---------
PART 14
“Phil, won’t you come in.” K greeted Nike CEO Phil Knight as he hustled the three assistants out of his office. Wearing a creepy half-grin, Knight slithered into a chair in front of K’s desk.
“Got here as fassssst as I could,” said Knight, in a low, nasal tone.
“Thanks. Listen, I need a little help with a [bleepin] recruit. Can you arrange some [bleepin] thing to increase our visibility with him?”
“Sssssssssure,” hissed Knight. “I think we can work out sssssssssssomething.”
By Thursday night the stage was set. Nike had announced plans to award their new “North Carolina High School and College Players of the Month” awards, with the ceremony to take place at halftime of the Mebane-Mount Pilot game. The high school honoree was JamesOn Curry, and the college honoree was Jason Williams.
K, Knight and Williams pulled into the Mount Pilot High School parking lot in K’s shiny new Lexus. Williams pulled out a mirror and primped.
“OK, let’s go over what’s gonna [bleepin] happen. Jason? Jason, can you please listen up for a second, nnnkay?”
Jason put away his compact.
“OK,” said K. “Collins and Wojo should already be in there. They’ll do the hard sell on Curry. You guys are just here for the [bleepin’] award ceremony and to represent ‘Duke excellence’. Don’t [bleepin] put the squeeze on this Curry kid. Just say hello and do your [bleepin] thing. Let Wojo and Collins close the deal.
“And Phil,” continued K. “Let’s test your earpiece.”
K spoke into a microphone he held in his hand while Knight raised his hand to his ear. “Testing, one, two, [bleepin] three.”
“Worksssss OK,” said Knight. “I can hear you.”
“OK, let me see if I can hear you,” said K.
Knight leaned his head forward toward a hidden microphone in his lapel, but paused. “What should I ssssssay?”
“Just say any [bleepin] thing. It’s only a test. And don’t lean over like that. You look like your gonna throw up on yourself. Just [bleepin] speak as you normally would.”
Knight cleared his throat. “I have … dreams … about Tiger Woodsssssss. Disturbing dreams …”
“[bleep] Phil! All right, just go! And say what I tell you to [bleepin] say.”
Cujo were in the gym, standing courtside while the Mebane team warmed up. Wojo was sporting a new oversized black LA Kings Jersey, sideways baseball hat, wrap-around shades and oversized baggy jeans that bunched up around his large, heavy-duty work boots. Collins wore an open black vest with no undershirt, extra-long black Duke basketball shorts, and black high-tops with no socks. On his chest was a large press-on tattoo of a skull and crossbones.
“Word up, JamesOn! JamesOn! Word up!” said Collins, while Wojo struck a slouching, bored pose at his side. Curry tried to ignore them until at last the buzzer sounded, and Cujo took their seats. Just then J-Will and Knight entered the gym and sat on the opposite side from Cujo. The crowd buzzed at the sight of Williams. Throughout the first half Williams signed autographs while Knight hissed into his cell phone or described the action to K back in the car.
“This Curry is sssssssssspectacular,” said Knight. "He's putting the ball in the basket many more timessss than the otherssss. And you should see how he bouncesssss it!"
Williams stuck his head in Knight’s chest and yelled into the mike.
“Coach, I’m thirsty! I need a soda!” The sound pierced K’s ear and he jumped and smashed his head on the roof of the car.
“[bleep] it Phil, get Jason a [bleepin] soda!” barked K into Knight’s ear.
Knight returned from the concession stand just in time for the halftime festivities. As Curry returned from the locker room, Knight and Jason walked out to center court. Knight took hold of the microphone.
K (into Knight’s ear): “We at Nike are pleased and proud to have a relationship with the Duke University yada yada yada … You know what to say Phil.”
Phil did know what to say. He presented the Nike award to Jason accompanied by profuse praise of Duke and Coach K. When he turned to Curry, K resumed his instructions.
K: “OK, say ‘Now we go from excellence to more excellence’.”
Knight: “Now we go from excssssssssellence to more excssssssellence.”
K: JamesOn Curry, I know that some day you will follow in Jason Williams’ footsteps. That is, I’m sure that one day I’ll be presenting you with the same award I just gave him. But for now …”
Knight followed the script to the letter.
“Woo woo!” screamed Cujo.
K: “OK, say ‘Congratulations JamesOn on a fine month and a fine season.’ That oughtta impress the little [bleep].”
Knight: “Congratulations JamesOn on a fine month and a fine season. That ought to impress the little [bleep].”
The crowd fell silent.
K: “No Phil! [bleep]! Don’t say that last part!”
Knight: “No Phil. [bleep]. Don’t say that last part.”
K: “[bleep] [bleepin] [bleepity] …
Knight: “[bleep] [bleepin] [bleepity] …”
The crowd gasped. Mothers covered their children’s ears. Finally, boos sprinkled down from the crowd. Jason Williams grabbed his trophy and headed for the door. JamesOn Curry looked at his coach, who just shrugged. Knight continued channeling K’s remarks verbatim.
Knight: “[bleep] Phil. I’ll [bleepin] [bleep] you so hard your [bleep] will come out your [bleep], you [bleeper].”
Finally K, overcome with frustration, fell silent. Then so did Knight. Coming out of his fog but seemingly unaware of what happened. Knight handed Curry the trophy and shook his hand, prompting a half-heated smattering of applause. Knight then followed Williams out of the gym, and the game resumed.
“That was different.” said Chris.
“Yeah,” said Wojo, “usually people don’t say the f-word so much during these award presentations.”
After the game, Cujo headed for the visitors’ locker room. There they were stopped by the Mount Pilot gym teacher, who was guarding the door.
“Sorry kids. Only players allowed in the locker room.”
“We’re not kids,” offered Chris. “We’re assistant coaches at Duke.”
“What a coincidence, so am I,” responded the teacher. “Now run along.”
“No really. I’m Chris Collins and this Steve Wojo … Wojo-how … This is Wojo,” implored Collins. “We don’t usually dress this way.”
“Fellas, I’m gonna lose my temper. Now beat it.”
Chris prided himself on his ability to read a situation. But his instincts seemed to be failing him this day.
The next morning Chris sat in his bed at Duke Hospital reading the Durham Herald-Sun. A nurse checked his bandages while a pimply faced but socially inept young resident attended to his roommate Wojo. The banner headline in the paper read “Nike CEO Uses Foul Language at School Children: Tiger Wood, Michael Jordan and 37 College Coaches Rush to His Defense.” Chris chuckled as he read the article.
“Heh-heh-heh. That was cool.”
“Hold still there Beavis,” admonished the nurse as she finished checking the bandages. “OK, you two can go. We just kept you overnight for observation, and to protect you from others. And yourselves.”
At about this time Coach K sat, neatly-dressed, at the dais in the ballroom of a large downtown hotel, waiting his turn to speak a gathering of corporate officials. Leaving only Johnny Dawkins at the basketball offices.
“Yes Rosemary?” said Johnny, answering the intercom in his modest office.
“There’s a recruit here to see Coach K. Can you see him?”
“Sure.”
It was JamesOn Curry.
“JamesOn, have a seat. How are you? Hey, I heard about last night. Kind of a mess, huh?”
“Yeah. But funny too,” said Curry.
Dawkins smiled.
“Coach,” said Curry. “I’m asking all the college coaches to leave me alone for a while. I’m only a sophomore and its already getting crazy.”
“OK, OK, JamesOn,” said Dawkins. “Can we call you next fall?”
“Sure.”
“JamesOn, Duke is really a good place to be, despite what it may look like to you right now.”
“Coach, let me ask you something,” said Curry. “Why did you come to Duke when you were a player?”
“Well,” said Dawkins. “Things were a lot different then. I knew that Duke had once been great, and I liked the the feel of the place. But they were losing a LOT then. Still, it just seemed right. Coach K was unproven, but I loved his passion for the game. And by my senior year we were in the NCAA Finals. We didn’t win, but sometimes I think we – that group of us – had an even greater sense of accomplishment than some of our later championship teams had. We built something from the ground up. We started so low, and finished so high. And I think I see something in the eyes of Duke fans when they talk to me or Mark Alarie or David Henderson that I don’t see even when they talk to Bobby Hurley or Christian Laettner or today’s players. The fans really appreciate how we turned it around for Duke.”
Dawkins paused, realizing how Curry might be processing this information. Curry had been soaking it all in and the wheels were turning in his head.
“I made a good choice back then, but I took a gamble," added Dawkins. "Lots of bright young coaches don’t turn it around. Here, you know you’re gonna win, be on TV, and be part of a great institution.”
Back at the downtown hotel, it was K’s turn to speak. As he approached the podium, the crowd stood and cheered while a Duke highlight reel played on the jumbo-tron behind him under the word “TEAMWORK.” The O’Jays “Love Train” blared from the sound system. As Coach K started to speak, JamesOn Curry rose from his seat in Dawkins office.
“Thanks for taking the time to talk to me Coach,” said Curry. “I’m gonna think about what you said.”
Johnny spoke as JamesOn was leaving. “Remember JamesOn, we have something that nobody else has here. We contend every year. Matt may never turn it around at Carolina.”
“Maybe not,” said Curry as he walked out of sight. "But only time will tell."
Dawkins sat down, wondering whether he had blown it with Curry. Just then, Curry poked his head back into the room. “Coach,” he said, “if you get a head coaching job somewhere before I graduate, call me.”
Dawkins sighed.
THE END
