Advantage Disadvantage by Yale Jaffe Page A

hassling
me?”
    They patted him down but found nothing.
    “Sir, would you like to open your car for us to
search, or would you like us to break the window to get in?” one of
them asked.
    “Do you have a judge’s order or subpoena,
Jeeves?”
    “We aren’t trifling with you, boy. You lost your due
process when we watched money-exchanging hands in your car. We
don’t need shit to get into your car.”
    “Why were you even watching me to begin with?” Bobby
G. asked.
    “We had a complaint from one of the parents. They
thought you might be selling drugs out of your car in the school’s
parking lot.”
    “I’ve got nothin’ in the BMW. I’ll open it for
y’all”
    The three of them left the locker room to go to
Bobby G.’s car. After a minute, Frank Worrell emerged from one of
the bathroom stalls. He had been perfectly still, and undetected,
while the police pulled Bobby G. from the washroom. He would not
hesitate for a moment to take money back from Bobby G. – turnabout
was fair play. He was not sure how much cash was stowed in locker
14, but it could not match the money he lost betting football with
this bookie. Of all the raises that the newspaper gave him to
reward his contributions, he constantly was paying off his gambling
debts to Bobby G. He was still the lowest paid reporter who worked
at the paper more than five years. He conducted a quick debate in
his head that led him to decide to grab the cash. He opened Locker
14 and saw the money pouch. He was surprised to feel how heavy it
was – he thought it must have a lot of money in it. This will solve
many current financial problems, and who would ever know? He
wrapped the pouch around his waist and pulled his shirt out of his
pants to cover the belt. He did not have much time because he knew
someone named Davis would be coming to look for the pouch. He
walked outside and saw the cops watching Bobby G.’s BMW pull away.
Perfect! Frank walked out to his car and drove home.

Chapter Fourteen. The East End High School Coach

    Hanna City was a small farm town near Peoria,
Illinois. Far from the “will it fly in Peoria” marketing
demographics, people from Hanna worked the soil. Most of the three
hundred families who formed the community belonged to the same
church and knew each other. Hanna shared schools with several other
like-sized towns nearby. There were no YMCA’s or health clubs. Kids
honed their jump shots on gravel driveways aiming at hoops hung on
barns. Before the NAU teams sprung up in big cities, boys from
towns like this were able to compete with anybody from
anywhere.
    One such kid was Scott Venturi. He was a three-sport
varsity athlete during his high school athletic career. The team
competed against other small towns in Illinois’ single “A” division
– schools with less than 600 students. He was captain of his
football and basketball teams. Probably, he should have been his
baseball team’s skipper too, but he shared the wealth with his best
friend. Nearly all of these “Single A” class teams would not be
competitive with the big city schools in places like East St. Louis
and Chicago and its suburbs. They would not be competitive with
perennial powerhouse Peoria Manual High School either. Scott was a
cut or two above his classmates. He spent hours, rain or shine,
banging warn-out basketballs against the barn hoop on the farm. He
excelled despite a lack of competent coaching and adequate
competition. He set all kinds of local prep school records: points,
free throws, rebounds, and assists. He did not attract much
attention from college recruiters except from nearby Bradley
University. Scott was mostly a practice player there for four
years. He played consistent with his traditional farm family
culture, respecting education and hard work.
    ***
    Basketball, not farming, was in his blood. He
admired the coach at Bradley and marveled at the idea of earning a
living coaching competitive basketball. That was his dream, but it
was