High School Rivalry Read online

  Nicky was a sweet, personable guy who was hard on the outside and very soft on the inside to people he liked. Pete was glad he was liked. The guys drove to Nicky's date house, Hillary Dumbrowsky, first and then went over to Annie's house next to take pictures. Throughout the evening, Pete felt as if he was living a life that was not his own. The out-of-body experience got even weirder when Nicky whipped out a joint for all to smoke on the ride to the prom. Pete thought, "Who am I, and what am I doing here?"

  As each person inhaled some lethal relaxation. Pete looked out the window and was wondering when life had become so complicated. He thought that maybe it was a good idea that his parents shielded him from the harshness of everyday life. He respectfully said, "No thanks" when Annie offered the joint to him. He didn't even feel bad when he turned her down. After all, he figured that she better get used to it.

  The night started slow because Pete was able to stay out of striking distance. Then fate dealt him a losing hand when the thumping dance music switched to a slow love song. Before he could turn and run, he was pulled into the bosom of the girl they called The Amazon. Pete tried to avoid eye contact from the eleventh grade Medusa, but his body was instantly turned to stone when she moved in and kissed him. She put her tongue in his mouth, like a crowbar prying open a trunk, and he was now defenseless to her oral advances.

  Pete was so inexperienced that he stood straight up and moved his tongue around a bit almost out of necessity. His hands remained on her lower back and he had stopped shuffling his feet back and forth. The three-minute kissing session failed to get him excited, but it did get his friends off his back for a while. Pete was even more confused about girls than before. He thought there must be something wrong, because he didn't experience any extreme feelings such as passion or nausea. Numbness swept through his body like a warm breeze, and the night could not be over soon enough. Like a blind man suddenly regaining his sight, Pete was not able to process all of the events going on around him.

  With dessert already being served, Annie leaned over to Pete and purred in his ear, "Nicky and Hillary are going to the beach. They want us to go with them." The alarms sounded in Pete's head, as his brain had been pushed to capacity overload. He replied, "I'll think about," as he walked straight out of the catering hall and to the sidewalk. He felt safer outside, and it also gave him time to think about how he could end the month-long nightmare. His first instinct was to call his father... his mother always told him that he should always trust his first instinct.

  About 20 minutes later, Annie looked for Pete and finally found him outside.

  "Are you all right?" she questioned.

  "Yeah, I'll be fine."

  "We're going to the beach in a few minutes. Are you okay with that?"

  "I don't think so."

  "Why not? I won't do anything to you," Annie said in her more innocent voice.

  But Pete had already left the event, "I'm sorry, but I don't want to go."

  "Was it something I did?"

  "No."

  "Are you sure you won't go?" she asked, trying to appeal to his sensitivity.

  "Yeah. I think I'll call my dad to pick us up."

  Annie shook her head in disappointment, "If that's what you want."

  Annie walked back inside to tell her friends of her impending departure. They were as confused as she was about his seemingly hasty decision. Pete couldn't get to the phone fast enough and he quickly dialed for safety. Ten minutes later, Annie walked outside and Lou Berman drove up in his light blue Chevy Impala. Pete and Annie sat in the back seat, but not a word was said on the five-minute drive to Annie's house. She thanked Lou and then Pete walked her to the door.

  "I had a good time," Annie says.

  "Yeah, right. I'm sorry about not going to the beach."

  "You don't have to be sorry, I did have a good time."

  Pete nodded in disbelief and gave Annie a kiss goodnight on the lips. She walked into her house and disappeared from sight, prompting a huge sigh of relief from Pete. On his way back to the car, Pete started to realize that he had to grow up sooner or later, but later seemed a lot more comfortable than sooner. He opened the passenger side car door and sat in the front seat. Lou Berman started the car and Pete looked over at him as the two broke out in laughter. As Lou pulled away from the curb, he shook his head and said, "Fag!" Annie was just in the wrong place at her right time - on her way to being pregnant at 18 - while Pete was on a slower track and taking baby steps toward becoming a man.

  CHAPTER THREE

  After another summer at Martin Luther High School Basketball Camp, Pete was relieved to finally proceed to the eleventh grade. The excitement in West Valley about the basketball team was limited only to the team’s players and coaches. The town rarely had a good enough basketball team to support, although the school had produced superior lacrosse and wrestling teams that were well followed.

  Pete eyed the team's schedule and focused on December 17 and February 12 as the main games to focus on. These games were against Fellingwood, with the February 12 game being the last home game of the season. He envisioned the now-empty gym full with screaming fans urging the team on. The previous year, only 50 or so fans attended each home game. It got so desolate that the janitors would only open one side of the bleachers for each game, as the average-sized high school gym fit about 650 fans. Pete couldn't imagine where all of these people would come from, but he was sure it would turn into the hottest ticket in town.

  West Valley entered the first meeting with Fellingwood sporting a surprising 3-2 record, following a season in which they had started 0-5. Fellingwood, as expected, was 5-0 and in first place in the conference ahead of West Valley and East Shores, which had just beaten West Valley with a last-second heave at the buzzer.

  Pete and Gerry entered the game with identical scoring averages of 22 points a game, but Pete bettered Gerry in per-game rebounds 12 to 10. Fellingwood had not lost a home game in over two years, and West Valley had lost every away game the previous year. West Valley's first loss of the year was at home in overtime to Pikesville, as Coach Andrews made the mistake of calling time out at the end of regulation when Pikesville had no time outs left. Down two, the Broncos were afforded the opportunity to set up a last second shot and they tied the game. A stunned West Valley squad was unable to recover in overtime and lost by four points.

  During the two days leading up to the Fellingwood-West Valley matchup, Sal Pagnozzi repeatedly told his team that they would have to stop Pete Berman in order to win. His team always played hard regardless of the opponent. They were schooled in the fundamentals of the game, which stemmed from the town's top-flight, junior basketball system. West Valley, by comparison, had a smaller junior basketball league that was utilized to fill the winter months between the fall and spring sports seasons.

  The game would come down to a clash of the titans even though Fellingwood had destroyed West Valley the previous year. During warm-ups, Pete’s teammates picked up on his icy stare. This was a hard look they had not seen before from the usually mild-mannered Berman.

  As the players lined up on the sideline and the National Anthem blared over the loud speaker, Pete thought that this was the reward for all of those years of hard work. It wasn’t just his night, it was to be shared with his parents for all of the years... the years of driving him to games, the years without vacation, the money spent on camp after camp. The sweat, the scrapes, the bruises.

  Pete remembered the most down he ever felt after a loss. He was eight years old and in his first year of Little League Baseball. He pitched and played shortstop, but on this day he was filling in at third base for a teammate that was at the dentist. Pete had pitched and won a key game two days earlier and, under league rules, was unavailable to pitch in the final game. Chris Davis, the hard-throwing left-hander was on the mound that day. Pete’s team, sponsored by N&C Deli, was ahead of Plummer’s Photogra
phy 3-2 going into the bottom of the sixth (and last) inning. He was two-for-three with two RBI’s, with both hits being run-scoring singles. With two outs and runners on second and third, Davis was clearly running out of gas. With Pete unable to pitch, Davis had to finish the game.

  With a two-and-two count, Davis threw a fat pitch, affectionately called a meatball, over the heart of the plate. The righty batter pulled the ball straight to third base. Pete bent over to catch the ball, but it went straight through his legs before he had a chance to put his glove on the ground. Both runners scored and the game was over. Lou Berman was ready to deliver another lecture, but the embarrassed and shocked Pete walked straight off the field and around the corner to his house. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and onto his soiled uniform. He didn’t like the responsibility of losing the game for his team. He sat on the sidewalk in front of his house as darkness fell over the neighborhood. He then walked into the backyard and looked through the fence at the field, which was barely visible in the distance. Despite his mother’s pleading, Lou refused to go outside to console his son so she went out to talk to him after giving him ample time to cool off. They both looked off into the distance as Pete said, “I couldn’t get my glove down in time. I’m sorry I lost the game.”

  “Don’t apologize to me. I don’t care if you win or lose games. Even the best players make errors sometimes.”

  Pete gave his mom a “C’mon!” look.

  She asked, “Did you give your best out there today?”

  “Yes, but...”

  “No excuses are necessary if you give your best, Pete.

  But the kind and sage words from his mother did little to calm the anxiety generated by his father in relation to him playing sports. Pete thought that it was so much easier when he and his friends played without parents around, but he knew that trend would be diminished as they played more and more organized sports activities in the future.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Fellingwood and West Valley players walked out for the opening tap and exchanged handshakes. Pete went over to four of the Fellingwood starters but wanted Gerry Williams to approach him. Williams made his way around the jump circle until he walked in front of Pete. Pete stared directly into his eyes, looking deep into his soul. Gerry opened his mouth as if ready to say something coy, but continued to walk into position. He knew that a player named Pete Berman had been scoring some points, but didn’t realize he was the same guy that lit him up in camp the past summer. Pete knew Gerry was a competitor, but he was confident that his team would win the game.

  In a tight game, West Valley was up two at halftime. Pete had a solid first half, finishing with 14 points. Gerry, still looking stunned, got a tongue lashing from Coach Pagnozzi at the end of the first quarter and finished the half strong with 10 points.

  Pagnozzi was furious at halftime, throwing towels and chairs and basically reading the riot act to his team. “How can we be down by two points to this team? Isn’t this the same team we crushed last year?” Gerry didn’t like the trend that was developing and was determined to change the tide for good in the second half. Pagnozzi was counting on it - nobody had gotten the best of his star player yet, and he would be damned if a lowly West Valley player would be able to break the string!

  West Valley’s locker room was much more subdued. Coach Andrews spent the majority of the halftime break reviewing ways to beat Fellingwood’s full-court press. The team had turned the ball over a few times before the end of the half and would most likely be seeing the pressure again when play resumed. Pete couldn’t wait to get back on the floor, but he stopped to take a quick drink from the aged water fountain. Coach Andrews followed, put his arm around Pete’s shoulder and said, “Don’t rush it, the game will come to you.” Sage words from a second year coach. Pete thought his father couldn’t have said it any better.

  During the third quarter, the two teams acted like heavyweight prize fighters loading up for the big punch. The score was tied at the end of the period - Pete and Gerry hit a couple of hoops apiece and had 18 and 14 points, respectively. It was anybody’s ballgame, and the first official meeting of the rivalry would be decided in the next eight minutes.

  About 50 West Valley fans traveled the 25 minutes to the game, as interest in the team had been growing steadily. Home crowds were now in the hundreds, with all of the bleachers being available for seating. The players had become the best form of promotion, as they were a likable bunch of guys and the school was aching to support a winner.

  Fellingwood started the fourth quarter with two unanswered baskets, but Pete responded with a long jumper and a three-point play. He head-faked Gerry into the air, absorbed the contact, and then banked the ball in with his left hand. The foul was Gerry’s fourth, prompting Coach Pagnozzi to abruptly replace him with one of Pete’s all-star teammates from the basketball camp.

  The teams traded baskets for the next three minutes and, with three minutes left, West Valley clung to a one-point lead. Pagnozzi then reinserted Williams into the lineup. This move seemed to have an adverse effect on his team and ignited West Valley, which went on a 4-0 run over the next minute-and-a-half. Time out Fellingwood. After the short break, they immediately responded by scoring with about 45 seconds left, cutting the deficit to three. Then, just as Dino Rizzo had seemingly broken the press and crossed half court, Darrell Wallace came from behind and stole the ball. He then raced down the court and fed Williams for an open 15-footer. He missed, but the ball was batted out to Melvin Atkins, who hit a 12-footer.

  The lead was down to one with 17 seconds remaining. Fellingwood would have to foul. West Valley was looking for Pete, who was the team's best foul shooter. The inbounds pass came into Dino Rizzo, who immediately hit Pete at half court as if the ball was a red hot potato. Pete saw Big Artie Schueller, out of the corner of his eye ahead of the pack. He instinctively passed the ball to Artie instead of waiting to be fouled.

  The ball floated into Artie’s large, thick hands as if he was participating in an egg toss contest. There was no way that the Fellingwood players could do anything to stop him - all he had to do was put the ball in the basket. Artie gathered himself, put his head down, and promptly dribbled the ball off his size 14 right sneaker. As the ball rolled out of bounds, Sal Pagnozzi exhaled along with the home crowd and then signaled for a time out.

  The crowd was buzzing during the one-minute break, with the West Valley supporters laboring over the missed opportunity and the Fellingwood faithful optimistic about their chance to win another game. Everyone in the gym knew the play would be designed for Gerry Williams. Pagnozzi didn’t like the idea of a full court rush, so he had the ball thrown to half court and called his last time out. There were three seconds showing on the new digital scoreboard.

  Darrell Wallace held the ball and immediately looked for Williams, who was being double-teamed. With four seconds elapsed on the five second count, Wallace spotted Melvin Atkins open on the right side of the court. Atkins turned, faded and threw a high arching shot over the outstretched arms of Steve Fuller. Melvin fell backwards onto the shiny wood surface as Pete turned and put a body on Gerry Williams so he wouldn’t get the rebound.

  Pete watched helplessly as the ball made a dull thud against the backboard and gently descended through the net as time expired. He caught the ball but let it ball drop out of his hands as the Fellingwood players and fans mobbed Melvin Atkins. Pete and his dejected teammates slinked into the locker room, saving themselves from the sights and sounds of the raucous celebration. Fellingwood had again found a way to survive and, true to form, West Valley was unable to win the big game.

  The West Valley players sat motionless in front of their lockers numb from the crushing defeat. Coach Andrews concluded an interview with a reporter from The Daily Journal and then exchanged a few words with Assistant Coach Kowalski before entering the dead silent room.

  “That w
as one of the best played games I have ever seen in all my days as a player, coach, or fan. You guys have a lot to be proud of... last year these guys killed us. Look how far we’ve come in such a short time. Keep your heads up, we’ll get these guys at home on the last day of the season.” He then said, “Does anybody else have anything to add?”

  Pete stood up achingly, sweat drenching the wood bench beneath him. His face turned from a frown to a sneer as he slowly opened the empty locker to his left. He then slammed it furiously with one flick of his wrist and said in a soft, yet firm tone, “We don’t lose again.” The team followed his lead and started slamming lockers and shouting expletives about their new rival Fellingwood. One team was celebrating what was supposed to be a sure victory, while the other decided to leave behind the memory of a missed opportunity.

  Not a word was mentioned to Artie Schueller during the first practice following the Fellingwood loss. The team worked extra hard in the two and-a-half hour session, and Coach Andrews was convinced that they had left the bitterness of the defeat in the visitor's locker room. Pete was tired, but decided to stay after a few minutes to take some foul shots. Artie, still looking a bit depressed from his fatal error, walked slowly off the floor with his head down. Pete rolled the ball in his direction - Artie picked it up and turned to look at Pete who motioned at him to come over. Although Artie was older than Pete, his basketball experience was limited to one year of junior varsity and one year of varsity. He started playing ball when he was 15 because he was 6’5” and weighed 225 pounds. Coach Andrews molded him into an adequate center who had become a decent defender and rebounder. Pete looked him square in the eyes and said, “Try taking one power dribble to the hoop by putting the ball ahead of you so those boats don’t get in the way. Here, let me throw you a pass.”