The Squared Circle Read Online Free PDF

Luther whistling with his tongue along the roof of his mouth; this was all like a party to him. The first question directed at a player went to Royer, a six-foot-ten senior center. He was asked how he liked having Luther and Sonny on the team.
    â€œWho wouldn’t like it? I’ll probably go through the whole season without being doubled down.”
    â€œNo jealousy on the team?”
    â€œNone that I know of.”
    The questioning rotated to Luther Cobb and he was asked how many games he expected the team to win. Luther said, “Might as well win ’em all.”
    â€œEvery game?”
    â€œAin’t no reason to be losin’ any of ’em.”
    It didn’t take the reporters long to warm to Luther’s absence of caution. A writer from the Post-Dispatch wanted to know, “You’re predicting an undefeated season? Are we talking national championship here?”
    Luther’s grin was ear-to-ear, his straight white teeth gleaming in high profile against his ebony skin. “All I’m sayin’ is, ain’t no reason to be losin’ any games.”
    The writer from the Sporting News asked Luther, “Do you think you have the potential to play in the NBA?”
    Luther Cobb’s facial expression was an unlikely blend of humor, contempt, and astonishment, as if the reporter had asked him if he could touch the rim. “ Potential? I can take those guys down in the summer leagues right now. Potential .”
    Everyone was laughing by now, including Sonny. It would suit him fine if Luther’s brashness preoccupied the reporters altogether. But he didn’t expect it; he knew he wouldn’t be overlooked in this setting, and he wasn’t. The next question was for him.
    â€œSonny, you scored over three thousand points in high school, one of only five players to do that in IHSA history. Do you have any goals for yourself this season?”
    All these eyes suddenly on him and Sonny couldn’t think of a thing. Ballpoints poised everywhere he looked. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said quietly.
    â€œPersonal goals. Scoring, rebounding, that sort of thing. Have you set any?”
    It seemed like a long time he had to think. Finally he said the only thing that came to his mind: “I just want to play.”
    A reporter near the back shouted, “Louder, please? Could you speak into the mike?”
    Sonny leaned forward to pull the mike closer. “I just want to play,” he said again, this time loud enough for everyone to hear. It was the reporters’ turn to be astonished, and their guffaws revealed just how much.
    A woman reporter, one of the few present, asked Sonny, “Is this something you enjoy, Sonny?”
    It was a curious question for sure. Sonny said, “You mean press conferences?”
    â€œI mean press conferences.”
    Sonny wasn’t sure, but he thought she might have been from the Chicago Tribune . “No, I don’t. I just want to play.”
    So she turned to Luther. “Luther, you seem to enjoy what we’re doing here. How would you evaluate Sonny Youngblood as a player?”
    Luther sat up straight and didn’t flinch. He took back the mike. “Sonny’s the best white boy I’ve ever seen. He can play. ”
    This remark brought down the house, but it also brought Coach Gentry back to his feet. Luther’s brashness was the kind of color to gratify the media, but clearly not the press conference mode the coach preferred. For the next 30 minutes he restored equilibrium by answering questions about injuries, offensive and defensive strategies, and the strengths of other teams in the conference.
    It was much less formal after the press conference. With the warm-ups on, and then off, the players posed for picture after picture. Still pictures, action pictures, group pictures, and posed pictures. The videocams wanted action footage of dunks, shot-blocking, and