Джон Гришэм - Sooley

Everything about Reynard was cool. The tailored jacket, designer frames, gold Rolex. He exuded success and wealth beyond his thirty years, but that was expected. Sooley and Murray, a couple of broke college kids, were impressed but they knew they were supposed to be. Reynard was nothing more than a salesman, a runner sent by his boss to break the ice with a potential client.

They talked about the tournament and Reynard asked if they were over the loss to Villanova. No, they were not. They ordered burgers and fries, and when the waitress left Murray said, “Let’s get on with the business here, okay? Sooley and I need to get back to the library and study all night.”

They were cutting classes right and left. The madness had left them with hangovers and they were still distracted by it. Plus, the Sooley story wasn’t going away and now centered on the kid turning pro.

Reynard flashed his perfect smile and said, “Sure. My boss is Arnie Savage, a cool guy about forty-five, played sparingly for Gonzaga decades ago. One of the top agents in the business. I’m sure you’ve checked him out and could name his NBA lineup.”

Both Sooley and Murray nodded. Yes, they could.

“Arnie gets top dollar, but all agents say that. Actually, the money is not a big issue at this stage because it’s controlled by the players union. The old guys don’t want the young guys to get all the money. I’m sure you’re familiar with the Rookie Scale Contract.”

Both nodded.

“Depending on where you go in the first round, Arnie will negotiate a four-year deal with the first two guaranteed.”

Murray said, “The first round. Are you and Arnie sure he’ll go in the first round?”

“Murray, look, if Arnie wasn’t convinced, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. He has enough clients already, so he doesn’t fool with guys down the draft, okay? Arnie’s all about the relationship. He cares deeply about his players and becomes their close friend, their confidant. He’d rather spend time with his players than try to hustle a contract for some kid to play in Europe. You understand?”

They nodded.

“Don’t get me wrong. He has clients in Europe, some great players over there, and he works hard to get ’em back over here where, just maybe, they belong. But most of his work is with the NBA.”

They kept nodding.

“Other than the friendship and advice, Arnie earns his money with the marketing and endorsements. It’s not unusual for one of his clients to make more money off the court than in the games. He’s shrewd and understands the real market value of his players.”

Sooley said, “And the more we make the more he makes.”

“Absolutely. He takes four percent off the top of your playing contract, same as all agents. Right now he has two hundred million in cumulative salaries, so the math gets easy. He’s annually ranked in the top ten sports agents. What you don’t always see are the deals for endorsements.”

Murray was nodding along as if he knew all this. Top five. Twenty-six players in the NBA. Four all-stars.

Sooley’s head was spinning. It was exciting enough to see his name tossed around by bloggers playing the draft game. He’d caught himself dreaming of having plenty of money. But, now, sitting across from a man who could connect him to his dreams, he was overwhelmed.

Their platters arrived but all three ignored the food. Reynard was saying, “What Arnie wants is this. Let’s go see him. You need to meet Arnie and let him give you the full picture. He can map out the next five years of your life and he can make it happen.”

“Where is he?” Murray asked.

“Miami. South Beach. He likes warm weather.” He nodded at the window and said, “Sure beats this crap. They’re talking rain for the next three days.”

“Is that your Jag out there?” Murray asked.

“It is.”

“Maryland plates.”

“D.C. I cover this part of the country for Arnie.”

“How many guys on the force?”

“There are four of us and we travel a lot, especially this time of the year. Watch a lot of games, see a lot of film. Tons of networking.”

“You like it?”

“Love it.”

Murray was intrigued. A future in the NBA looked doubtful for him. Perhaps he might pursue the agent thing.

Sooley asked, “When does Mr. Savage want to see us?”

“Oh, he’ll fly up here. And no one calls him Mr. Savage. He’s just Arnie. But it would be much more fun to go down there. He’s got a cool place and there’s always a party. He’ll send a jet and we’ll be there in no time.”

“A private jet?” Murray asked.

“Sure. He’s got a couple.”

They were in.

Ecko Lam was in town. He said he just happened to be passing through. The truth was he was needed by two of his friends.

The first was young Samuel. Ecko picked him up at the dorm early on a Friday morning and drove to a diner in downtown Durham. As they took their seats at a table Ecko said, “Good grief, son, are you still growing?”

“Feels like it,” Sooley said with a grin. “Haven’t been measured lately.”

“How much do you weigh?”

“Not enough. Guess who I had a long talk with last night?”

“Niollo?”

Sooley laughed and said, “How’d you know?”

“You told me to guess. I guess I got it right. What did he say?”

“Take the money and run. Said my stock might never be higher. Said there’s always the possibility of injuries and so on. He played one year at Syracuse, entered the draft at the age of nineteen and was the seventh overall pick.”

They ordered coffee, juice, and eggs. Ecko nodded along. This was old news. He had known Niollo for fifteen years.

Sooley continued, “He said the first year is pretty rough, but it’s the same for everyone. It takes a while for your body to adjust to an eighty-two-game schedule, but he thinks I’m mature enough physically to handle it.”

“Rumors are he’s leaving Miami.”

“We didn’t talk about that. Figured it was none of my business. I asked about agents and he didn’t say much. I got the impression he’s not too crazy about his.”

“Well, Samuel, I guess that settles it. If Niollo says go pro, then that’s what you’ll do. Right?”

“What’s your opinion?”

“I have a bias in favor of education. I’m very proud of my degree from Kent State because it’s the first in my family. If I had things my way, I’d like to see you go to medical school and become a doctor, then go home and build hospitals.”

“They would just burn ’em down. That’s ten more years of study, Ecko, then I’d make a good living, but not millions.”

“So you’re dreaming of millions?”

“That’s what the game pays now. Crazy money, isn’t it?”

“Indeed. I prefer education, Samuel, but let’s be honest. I did not have the option of playing in the NBA. My amazing talents were not appreciated. To the surprise of no one, I went undrafted. So, I became a coach.”

“And I’m so glad you did. What if we’d never met?”

“That’s too awful to think about.”

“I know. I read an article about myself last night. These days there are enough of them. Guy writes for ESPN, good writer, and he said that in the history of basketball no player has ever come so far in twelve months. Size, skill, maturity, mileage, all the yardsticks. Along with the tragedies. A year ago I stood six feet two and was playing on dirt courts in the African bush. Now I’m six feet eight and headed for the first round.”

“So, you enjoy reading about yourself?” Ecko was amused.

“Sometimes. I like to see what they get wrong. Some guys just make up facts, you know? And Murray scans the internet collecting stories.”