Tool Six

 Part 2 of 2

  

Alex sat in the coaches’ office adjacent to the Men’s Gym, waiting for his 7:15 AM appointment to arrive. Big Denny Thornton had called him at home and insisted on meeting first thing Wednesday morning. He was ten minutes late. At last the door pushed open and Thornton Sr. walked in. “Big Denny” was an appropriate tag for this man. He towered over Alex and he was built like an NFL lineman. His bald head glistened under the fluorescent lights. This was the first time Alex had seen him without a baseball cap. Thornton sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. Neither man offered to shake hands.

“Good morning, Coach. How was your evening?” Thornton’s voice dripped sarcasm.

“I think you know the answer, Mr. Thornton. Look, I am really sorry. I just lost my cool. Did Denny tell you everything that happened?”

“Well, yeah. Sounded to me like just a little horseplay. Ya know, boys will be boys.” Big Denny smiled.

“Anyway, I am sorry, and I intend to speak to Denny and apologize face to face. I hope we can put this behind us.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you do. You know, Alex, hitting a student-athlete is a pretty serious thing. Know what I mean?” He waited quietly, fully in charge now. “That sort of thing can cost you your coaching position, probably even your job. You have a wife, two little girls, a mortgage. This is not a good time for a teacher to be out of work. Am I right?”

Alex could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. “Okay, Mr. Thornton. What is it that you want?”

Big Denny smiled again. “Well, now that you ask, the Major League Baseball draft is coming up in early June. My son, as I’m sure you know, is not college material. His dream, his best shot, is to be drafted by a major league team. If he goes high in the first round, the signing bonus will be pretty sweet. It’s what we’ve been working for since I signed him up for T-ball.”

“And? What do you want from me?”

“Scouts will be calling you, asking for your input. They don’t want to talk to Walker anymore, they all know his situation. But they will listen to you, Alex. What you say can go a long way. Know what I mean?”

“And just what would you like me to say?”

Thornton opened a manila folder he’d carried in with him, removed a neatly printed sheet of paper and placed it in front of Alex. It was a bulleted list of talking points and, as Alex skimmed it quickly, it became clear that the purpose was to paint Dennis Thornton, Jr. as a person of the highest character, a paragon of virtue. Regular church goer, Sunday school teacher, regular helper at the local rescue mission, volunteer for the suicide prevention hotline. The list went on.

Alex dropped the list on the desk and locked eyes with Big Denny. “Is any of this real?”

“Now, Coach, you know as well as I do that perception is reality.”

“Yeah, well let me share my perception, from what I hear around campus. I hear your son likes to smoke a little weed while he enjoys a cold beer or two. And I hear he pays a couple of bright kids to write his papers for him. And then there’s the big one, the girlfriend who was a little bit pregnant, which I’m told you paid to take care of. You want me to go on?”

Big Denny’s smile was gone. “Now you listen to me, you little pissant!” He paused to regain composure. “You just keep this list handy when you talk to those scouts. And…nobody in the principal’s office or the school district ever has to know that you whacked my kid upside the head with your damn scorebook and called him a son of a bitch.” He lowered his voice and continued. “Do we understand each other?” Alex did not respond. “All righty then. Thanks for your time, Coach. Let’s stay in touch.” He pushed back the chair, rose and left the office.

Alex stared at the piece of paper Thornton had left. So that was it. Just say all the right things when scouts called and life would continue apace. He could keep his teaching position, succeed Walker Bateman when he retired, and have a long and fruitful career at Valley Vista High.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gone with the flow, or just turned his head. He’d been well aware of Denny’s party boy behavior and his academic short cuts, yet never said a word. Hey, if the kid could throw shutouts and his batting average hovered around .450, why rock the boat? And what about Coach Bateman? Alex had gone along with the tacit agreement among the coaches to let Walker ease into retirement. And had he done enough to help the old man, other than an attempt to connect him with an AA sponsor?

The phone rang, startling him out of his stupor. It was Leo Haynes, head of scouting for the Chicago Cubs, one of the true gentlemen of the grand old game.

“Alex, my young friend. It’s Leo Haynes. How the hell are you?”

“Just fine, Mr. Haynes. How’s everything with you?”

“Top of the world, Alex, top of the world. And how is my old friend, Walker Bateman?”

“He’s…well, I’m sure you know this. Walker has been better.”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve heard. Very sad. I have tremendous respect for that man. He is one of the giants. Please give him my best regards.”

“I’ll do that, sir.”

“Listen, Alex, I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I need to talk to you about young Denny Thornton.”

Alex glanced down at the list on his desk. “Well, what can I say that you don’t already know? He’s the real deal, Mr. Haynes. A genuine five-tool player. There isn’t a thing he can’t do on a ballfield.”

“Ah, yes, yes indeed. But that’s not what I need to know. What is the young man like off the field? What kind of student is he? What kind of a citizen? Let me shuck it right down to the cob, Alex. If I convince the Cubs to spend a million or two to sign this young man, will I regret it? Is he likely to buy a Corvette and get arrested for driving a hundred miles an hour while under the influence? Is he likely to wind up punching out drunks in strip clubs? Or cold-cocking his girlfriend in full view of the security cameras, like whatshisname, the football player? I know all about the five tools, Alex. I need to know about Tool Six. Character! He either has it, or he does not. That’s what I need to know.”

And there it was, right to the point. Leo Haynes was living up to his impeccable reputation. Straight questions requiring straight answers.

“Mr. Haynes, listen, something urgent has come up. I’m going to have to call you back. Can I catch you around noon? Or maybe early afternoon?”

“Hmmm…okay, Alex. I’ll look for your call around noon today.” He gave Alex his mobile number and hung up.

Alex walked out of the office, down the hall, and out onto the quad that stretched from the Men’s Gym to the stately Main Building. He watched the students coming and going, laughing and talking, on their way from one class to the next. Several of them called out to him with a cheery “Hi, Coach.” He loved this old campus with its eclectic mix of buildings that ranged in style from classic Spanish-Moorish to the ultra-modern Science Building. From the day he decided to become a teacher, his dream had been to wind up right here at Valley Vista High. He was living his dream.

The sun in his eyes felt like God’s flashlight. What had Leo Haynes called it? Tool Six? Haynes certainly had it. Walker Bateman had it too, in spite of his present condition. Alex thought back to his teenage years when it seemed he’d constantly been at war with his own father. Coach Bateman had always been there for him, counseling him to be patient and to see things from his father’s point of view. Alex’s dad did not understand the obsession with sports, or his desire to become a teacher. Dad’s vision was of Alex Wayne, M.D., or Alex Wayne, Esq.

He remembered Coach Bateman’s words: “Be a scholar. Be a learned man. Whatever you choose to do, work hard and be the best you can be. Your father will be proud.”

Alex took his cell phone from his pocket and dialed his wife’s number at work.

“Hi, babe. How’s it going?” Jill’s voice was bright and positive, as usual.

“Oh, it goes.” Alex could not match her upbeat mood.

“What did Big Denny want this morning?”

“Not much. Just a little blackmail.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I just need to tell the scouts that his son is a saint and no one will ever know about the incident on the bus.”

They chatted a while longer, rehashing their discussion from the night before, a discussion that had extended into the early hours of the morning. Jill closed the conversation with conviction.

“Do what we agreed to, Alex. We’ll get through this together.”

Alex looked at the phone for a few seconds before he dropped it back into his pocket. He went back into the gym, down the hall and into the office. He paused to look at one of the framed pictures that covered the walls. It was the varsity baseball team from his senior year, 2001. In the yellowing photograph, Alex was standing in the back row, next to Walker Bateman. A hell of a lot had happened since that picture was taken, events that put his little dilemma into perspective.

It was 8:15 now. Hopefully the principal would be in his office. Alex looked at the phone on his desk. He picked up the handset and punched in the four-digit extension. Principal Albert Mullins answered on the second ring.

“Hello, this is Al Mullins.”

“Good morning, sir. This is Alex Wayne.”

“Hey, good morning, Alex. Congratulations on that league championship!”

“Thank you, sir.” He took a quick breath and continued. “Sir, the reason I’m calling, I have something important to tell you, something you need to know. Can I stop by your office for a few minutes?”

“Oh uh, let me check my calendar.”

Alex turned toward the picture on the wall as he waited. Be the best you can be? I’m trying, Coach. I’m trying.

_____