more than a little quality is lost when sounds are captured on tape. So he usually sits hunched over his little counter as he did now with his 1960s headphones mounted on his slightly balding head. He listened to the paper shuffling, the occasional belch and television programs viewed by this latest candidate. His listening skills allowed him to build a mental image of his subjects. He could basically “see” Lance sitting there on his couch reading and watching TV.
Wyrick’s legal pad on the small shelf in his van contained the usual bulleted outline format he had used for two decades. During moments of silence or inane dialogue of the sitcom now on Lance’s television, Wyrick reviewed his notes from his surveillance. In doing so, he came to a conclusion that he had missed something. His in-depth knowledge of candidate Priest included reams of school records, occupational history, credit reports and analysis prepared by Braden and his psych eval team. He knew he would not likely get what he needed in 24 hours of observation, but a scan of his notes concluded that this kid didn’t have the car in drive. He was stuck in neutral. Wyrick recalled his discussion with Braden and follow-up conversations with his contacts back at the ranch that it all, and by all, everything, seemed to come a little too easy for Priest.
Wyrick drifted for a moment as the two characters on Lance’s TV discussed some ridiculous situation they now found themselves in. He thought about Pete Marivich, the Pistol. “Pistol Pete” would take and make shots both in college and the pros that no one should have. Time after time, he set scoring records, often breaking his own. Wyrick, like so many others sitting in stands or glued to television sets, had marveled at Marivich’s scoring prowess. He truly made it look easy. The Pistol obviously worked at his craft, but the way he floated from top of the key to the wing and back and then turned in a flash to catch a pass and shoot another swishing basket was sheer poetry. Wyrick remembered watching an after-game interview with the young Pistol where he was asked how he does it. “Practice” was the one-word reply, but between the letters was a subtle code that simply stated some things just come natural to certain people. For Pistol Pete, squaring up and sinking a shot was as natural as putting one foot in front of the other.
Priest had this same naturalness about him; the same confidence the Pistol exuded every time he eyed a shot. A confidence that said he’d make this shot and the next and the next. Priest excelled in pressure situations as well. And probably most important, when he missed or was knocked off kilter in some way, his recovery was quick and confident, almost without skipping a bit. Yet, it wasn’t overtly obvious to those who had not been through 611 pages of candidate Priest’s life. This young man’s success in building a cover was so complete, that he gave little or no hint of his prowess. He stayed humble and modest while putting others to shame or getting by with a whopper of a story. This undoubtedly required practice.
Yet practice is different for each of us. For some it is repetition to build muscle memory. For others it is experiential to prepare for the actual event and the physical and psychological elements. For others, practice can involve deep visioning to essentially rehearse the event, whether a speech before a board or a 100-meter hurdle race. Coaches will encourage athletes to envision success so that it can come easier. From what Wyrick had seen, Lance Priest practices in a manner that borrows aspects of each of these methods and more into a process that psychologist Braden had labeled “personality borrowing” and sometimes “stealing.” He basically became another person by copying them, by copying their actions, movements, facial expressions, speech, laugh.
From what Wyrick could discern, Lance’s practice methods revolve primarily around reading.
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