| To the Hole By Jim Correale By the spring of his senior year, Sean Webster�s picture was taped up inside every freshman girl�s locker at the high school. Some of them had a newspaper photo of him going to the basket, soaring above the defense; some had his most recent yearbook photo, looking dapper in the school uniform; and a few, considered lucky by the others, had pictures taken at some school event, usually with Sean surrounded by girls. A number of sophomores and juniors had his photo in their lockers as well. Not one senior girl did, but then he had slept his way through those that were interested, so there was no need for an image to stare at and long for. Either that, or they hated him. If Sean ever had a girlfriend, the female alone applied that designation. He seemed to move from one tryst to another, consummating and moving on, quick on his feet, just as he was on the basketball court. And, oh, was he magical with the basketball in his hands. Running, spinning, leaping�flying, it seemed. Taking the ball to the hole. Students treated him like he was a hero, leading the team into the state tournament with the best regular season record in school history. Driving, shooting, scoring�unstoppable, it seemed. Well, they were stopped, and in the second round. Not as deep into the tournament as most expected. Afterwards, there was talk that Sean was a one-dimensional player; that sure, he could score, but he didn�t rebound enough, didn�t play much defense, and didn�t like to pass. Hated, in fact, to give the ball up. He was more concerned about scoring his 25 or 30 points than he was about winning the game. Such talk meant nothing to the freshman girls. What did his team play matter when he looked as he did: six-foot-one, lean and muscled, freckles that danced on his cheeks when he smiled, perfect lips and, by the spring of his senior year, a tan that he�d been working on regularly at The Bronze God. What dirty looks they gave Kendra Price, the only freshman to make the varsity cheerleading squad, when they saw Sean talking to her after school, as he had done a few times that March. Secretly, however, they all wanted to be Kendra. To be that close to those dancing freckles and those perfect lips. It was more than his ball hogging and lack of defense that gave college coaches in the area pause about Sean. Such qualities could be worked out on the court. There was, however, the problem of grades. The boy�s marks were rather lackluster. He was passing all of his classes, but just barely, and more than one faculty member would say that Sean�s not failing had more to do with his performance on the basketball team than in the classroom, and his SAT scores seemed to confirm that. The college coaches that had come courting began backing away, despite Sean�s facility with the basketball. He was good, they said, but not that good. And so the community college inherited him, and he was scheduled to begin classes there in the fall. Meantime, school went on, winding through April and into the warmer days of May. In the first week of that month, the freshman/sophomore semi-formal was held in the school cafeteria. Kendra Price had scored a major coup when Sean agreed to be her date for the affair. Amid many unkempt and awkward looking underclassmen, Sean strode into the dance looking like a movie star, dressed impeccably, sunglasses on, and the masses stepping aside as he passed. Kendra, in a white dress with frill on the sleeves and collar, looked like a princess. The jealous freshman girls were beside themselves when the couple exited the affair not even halfway through the evening, driving off in the limousine that Kendra�s date had sprung for. Three weeks later Sean had arranged for strippers�one male and one female�to show up at the motel where the post-prom shindig was taking place. When the police arrived to bust up the out-of-control reverie, it was only Sean�s fast-talking and sweet smile that prevented any of the students from being hauled in to the station. In addition, one of the officers knew Sean. He had coached a youth basketball team on which Sean played when the boy was only nine. Even then the boy was much better than the other kids his age, and even then Sean did not like to pass the ball. The officer, Mike Walton, had talked Sean�s mother into signing the boy up for the team. It wasn�t very hard for her to decide. In exchange the police wouldn�t arrest her and charge her with drug possession after he and other cops again raided her house following reports of cocaine being sold from her apartment. She didn�t really have to be threatened. She knew it would be good for her kid and, for once, she was truly thinking of his welfare. Most of the rest of the time she was getting stoned, or shaking down people she knew for money to get stoned, or bringing dope dealers into her bed so she could get stoned for free. This was a part of Sean�s life long before he first displayed his skills on the youth basketball team, and it continued to be a part of his life afterward. His mother would often take off and leave him with her mother for a few days, or�if she forgot to take him there�Sean would catch the bus when he realized he had been abandoned again. |