The Squared Circle by JAMES W. BENNETT Page B

the assistant Sonny liked was Workman, who was a player . Workman would stay after practice and go one-on-one with you until he dropped. But Price was some sort of middle-aged PR grad assistant. Sonny didn’t know for sure what he was supposed to be.
    â€œIs Coach Gentry coming to this meeting?” asked Sonny.
    â€œNo, he’s not,” answered Gardner. “He has many duties, but academic compliance isn’t one of them.”
    Price added, “This isn’t high school, where the head coach does the laundry and brings the extra socks.”
    â€œIt’s a big, big program,” Gardner said. “That’s what we’re trying to impress on you here. It’s so big that we can’t make it work without communication and cooperation. You understand what I’m saying?”
    â€œI can see your point.”
    â€œEveryone needs to do their job, and everyone else needs to cooperate fully so they can do their job. That’s why we always need to work through existing channels.”
    â€œAre you telling me I can never drop a course on my own?”
    â€œWe’re simply asking you to cooperate with the program for everyone’s benefit.” Gardner paused. He took off his glasses, inserted them in the brown case, then put the case in the inside pocket of his sport coat. He sipped some coffee and closed the folder. “This is not something we like to talk to players about, Sonny, but we have had some preliminary investigative overtures from the NCAA.”
    Sonny wondered what he meant by preliminary investigative overtures but he didn’t ask. He remembered his earlier conversation with Warner, his sportswriter friend.
    â€œWe don’t believe it’s anything very serious,” Gardner continued. “Or anything to be alarmed about, but it does put us in a position where we have to be especially careful.”
    â€œWe need to know everything that’s going on,” said Price.
    â€œThat’s it, exactly.” Gardner agreed. “We need to know because we need to be in control. Can you see where we’re coming from?”
    â€œOf course I can see, do you think I’m stupid? If you want to break it down, I had an academic problem and I took care of it.”
    â€œWe’ll all hope so. In the meantime, can we count on your cooperation?”
    Sonny’s impatience was uncharacteristic. “Why are you treating me like a hard case? I’m preregistered for second semester, you know what I’m taking.”
    â€œOkay then. We’d like to apologize again for our remarks about your cousin.”
    SIU’s first home game was against Arkansas, rated ninth in the nation, in the early part of December. Not even the snowstorm that began in late afternoon could daunt the huge crowd that converged on the arena and overflowed it, yelping and bawling for blood.
    Otis Reed, the point guard, went down with a severe ankle sprain late in the first half, which meant more playing time for Robert Lee. It also meant a closer game; the Salukis won the ragged, physical contest by a score of 82–72. Arkansas used a confusing mix of gimmick defenses, in and out of the box and one, the triangle and two, but Sonny’s frustration, whenever it occurred, was never a match for his intensity. He finished with 29 points to share game-scoring honors with Luther. He also had six steals to lead all players in that department.
    Among the horde of postgame backslappers and well-wishers, Uncle Seth and three of his friends were front and center. Aunt Jane, who was also there, seemed to get lost in the congestion.
    Two easy wins, one over Chicago State and another over Evansville, both at the arena in front of standing-room-only crowds, followed finals week. The Saluki record was thus pushed to 6–0, and when LSU lost a road game at Illinois, Sonny’s team found itself ranked third in the nation in the major polls.
    The D that Sonny got in