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baby?!!”
    He hugged Weiss, who said something Stevie couldn’t hear in reply. Then Weiss said, “Dick, I want you to meet one of the winners of our writing contest—this is Steven Thomas. He’s a Philly guy.”
    “Steve, baby!” Vitale screamed, pumping Stevie’s hand. “AWESOME to meet you, really AWESOME! Philly, huh? Gotta love the Big Five, baby, right? Who’s your favorite team? Saint Joe’s, like my Italian paisan Phil Martelli? He’s a PTPer, baby, he’s one of the best. Lemme tell you another thing, THIS is a PTPer right here, baby, my man Hoops.You want to be a big-time writer someday? This is the man right here. You just watch him in action, baby. Knows everyone. EVERYONE. Hey, he’s written three books on Dickie V! How awesome is that? So who do you like here, Stevie? You gotta love the Dookies, right? Wait, you’re from Philly, you’re probably a Big East guy! The Huskies, baby, all the way, right?!!”
    Stevie was nodding his head, trying to remember what a PTPer was—it came to him, Prime-Time Player—and take in all that Vitale was saying while Vitale was still pumping his hand as if expecting water to come out of it.
    Without waiting for Stevie to answer any of his questions, Vitale turned back to Weiss. “Hey, Hoops, did you hear the big rumor? Knight’s retiring. Got it from a great source. Check it out.”
    “You going with it when you go on the air?” Weiss asked.
    “No, the source isn’t THAT good. Hey, speaking of ‘on the air,’ we’re on in two minutes! Gotta go, baby! Stevie, great talking to you, kid! Come by anytime! Hey, let me get your address, I’ll send you some Dickie V stuff! I’ll send you my new book! Hoops wrote it for me! I’ll autograph it for you!”
    Stevie started to say thank you and pull out his notebook to write down his address, but Vitale was off and running, jumping onto the podium. “Hey, give it to Hoops, okay, he’ll get it to me! Great meeting you! Hoops, you’re the best, baby! Check out that rumor; I’m telling you, it’s the real deal!”
    “So, how was that?” Weiss said as Vitale put his headset on and they turned back to the court, where the clock was now under a minute.
    “Exhausting,” Stevie said.
    “He’s actually kind of calm today,” Weiss said. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Krzyzewski. You can tell him what a big fan you are.”
    Stevie laughed nervously. He had been at the Final Four for less than eight minutes and he was already feeling a little overwhelmed.
    The buzzer sounded. The clock reset to fifty minutes and the Duke managers began grabbing balls and feeding them to the waiting players. He heard a cheer coming from a corner of the court where a group of Duke fans, dressed in blue and white, had gathered. He looked over and saw Krzyzewski walking out of the tunnel, dressed in sweats with a whistle around his neck.
    “Showtime,” Weiss said.
    Behind him, Stevie could hear Vitale. “I am just PUMPED to be here in the Big Easy! Hey, it’s Final Four Friday! It’s gonna be AWESOME, BABEEE!!!!”

4: “STUDENT-ATHLETES”
    WEISS AND STEVIE maneuvered through a sea of Minicams and still photographers who were milling around at the end of the court in the small area where they were allowed to be. An unsmiling NCAA official was standing there, warning them not to step over the line of tape that had been placed on the court as a stop sign.
    “What happens if someone steps over the line?” Stevie asked Weiss.
    “One of two things,” Weiss said. “They either lose their credential or they’re hung by their thumbs from the roof of the building.”
    Judging by the look on the NCAA guy’s face, Stevie suspected Weiss wasn’t joking.
    They walked along press row—there were actually threerows stretching the length of the court—in the direction of midcourt. Stevie could see that Krzyzewski was talking to Jim Nantz and Billy Packer of CBS, who were seated in what would undoubtedly be their seats the next