The One & Only(81)

“That’s ridiculous.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Does he cheat?”

I smiled. “That’s what I asked him.”

“And?”

“He said he doesn’t have to.”

Coach rolled his eyes, flipped the channel, flipped it back.

I hesitated, feeling a little uneasy as I continued. “Ryan said that someone bought Cedric Washington that Escalade he drove back in college. He implied that it was a bribe. So that he’d come to Walker …”

“Someone, huh?” Coach said. “You mean someone like Ryan’s daddy.”

“Are you serious?” I said, feeling my eyes grow wide.

Coach nodded. “Well, that was the rumor. He wanted a top-notch receiver for his son to throw to.”

“But … So … You knew about that?” I stammered. My heart sank a little, hearing him toss out the theory so casually. Maybe Ryan was right—maybe I was naïve.

“I knew that was the rumor. As I said, I don’t know for sure … I have no idea where Ced got that truck. I know he didn’t buy a damn Escalade from his paper route in the Third Ward,” Coach said, as I remembered Cedric lovingly referring to his neighborhood in Houston as “the Trey.” Come to think of it, he reminded me of Reggie, with an outgoing personality and an affable way of bridging the gap between the children of privilege at Walker and the blue-collar athletes. Everyone had rooted for him—there was even an impromptu pep rally on the quad the spring of our junior year when the Falcons drafted him as the seventh overall pick. He had done well in the NFL since then, still playing for Atlanta, married with three or four children—and maybe a fleet of Escalades.

“Did you ever ask Cedric about the car?” I pressed. “Or Mr. James?”

Coach Carr seemed a little defensive as he answered. “I asked Ryan about it. I asked his daddy. They both denied it. I asked Cedric himself …”

“What did he say?”

“He said it was his uncle’s. The title was in his uncle’s name and his uncle was making the payments on it.”

“Did you believe him?” I asked.

“As opposed to calling one of my kids a liar?” he said, putting down his plate. “What am I gonna do? Confiscate the truck? Trace the title? Strap his uncle to a lie detector? Bottom line, Cedric was a good kid. He worked hard on the field and in the classroom. And you know what?”

Before I could reply, he said, “I’m glad Ced had a nice ride … He deserved it. Wherever the damn thing came from. Good for him.”

I digested this, wondering if I had come across as self-righteous or judgmental.

“You’re right … I didn’t mean to …” My voice trailed off as I searched for the right verb. I started to say “accuse” but changed it to “suggest.”

Coach nodded, but kept his eyes on the television.

“I’m sorry, Coach,” I said, although I wasn’t exactly sure what I was apologizing for.

When he finally looked at me, his eyes had softened. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you, girl … I’m just annoyed and frustrated by the whole thing. Here’s the deal … In a sense, Ryan’s right. There’s always going to be a little shadiness. Cheating. Whatever you want to call it.”

I stared at him, trying to keep an open mind, though I hated where this was going.

“When I was in school, there was this old guy—Fred Tripp—who used to slide us five if we had a good game … We called it Mr. Tripp’s handshake. We’d tell the freshmen … ‘Oh, you played a good one. Get ready for the handshake!’ ”

“Five hundred? Or five thousand?” I said, shocked by what he was telling me.

“Five. As in—five dollars.”

We both laughed. “Yeah. That’s how the freshmen felt when they got home and looked in their envelopes and we all had a good laugh at their expense.”

I smiled.

“But, see, that’s the thing. Forget the amount. Some of us took that envelope. And some of us didn’t.”

I nodded, afraid to ask what camp he’d been in.

“Regardless of the amount, that five spot was still against NCAA rules. And every kid who accepted Mr. Tripp’s handshake was in violation. Walker was in violation … So did Rhodes break the rules? I really don’t know. You can ask him—but he’s gonna tell you no. Just like Cedric told me no. You understand what I’m trying to say?”

I nodded, but didn’t love his answer, which seemed only to be a variation of what Ryan had told me in his basement.

We both turned our attention back to the TV, just as Georgia kicked a long field goal, making it by a hair. Coach clapped once, though I knew he wasn’t really invested in the game, just happy for the kicker. Happy to see a good play. Maybe even a little bit happy for the underdog, although it had been a long time since we were in those beleaguered ranks. We both ate for a few seconds, watching Georgia celebrate.