4.
As Jay set out for his appointed Monday meeting at Gettysburg Borough Hall, Bruce Springsteen’s raspy voice rumbled The Rising, a joyous song of rebuilding, through the Mini Cooper’s speakers. Jay’s Jersey friends at Gettysburg had gotten him into The Boss’ music so much, E Street Radio remained a favorite in his station selections. He tapped his fingers atop the steering wheel as the song reached its final verses. When he reached town hall, he found a parking space as close to the front door as a non-handicapped person could get.
Alben Baker’s office could have been a shrine to University of Kentucky basketball. A blue and white Wildcats’ motif mixed among his family photos with his wife, Shauna, a chubby-faced strawberry blonde with a bright cheerful smile, and his children, Chandler and Stefani, and his professional commendations. Posed together, Jay saw the Bakers as a warm, loving family, not much different from his own when his sister was alive, though Stefani had seemed anything but warm and loving. A UK Dad coffee mug centered his desk blotter; brown rings formed patterns of overlapping circles. Alben’s academic credentials, full name Alben Barkley Baker, BA from Centre College, master’s from the University of Kentucky, hung over his desk. His commendations included a proclamation from the Governor of Kentucky anointing him an Honorary Kentucky Colonel, a tribute to past successes as the administrator in Danville, home to Centre College, and his last stop before coming to Gettysburg.
Jay garnered one quick impression: Stefani is daddy’s girl. She smiled brightly in several family pictures; in others she appeared to be having fun at her parents’ and brother’s expense. He rose to attention as Alben opened his door, a conditioned pre-meeting reflex since his first day of job interviews in college, then sat down as soon as Albensettled behind his desk. Dressed similarly from the first time they met, sporting a tie striped in Gettysburg colors, Albenbuzzed his secretary to fill the UK Dad mug. He offered Jay coffee, too, from a Cager Cats mug on the edge of the desk, Jay declined. He crossed his legs, trying to find a comfortable spot in the hard wood guest chair.
“So, Jay, what’s it been like coming back to Gettysburg?” Alben asked.
“Honestly, I rarely left campus when I was in college. Went to a few movies at the Majestic, but that was it. Between basketball and classes, I didn’t have time.”
Alben grinned. “I see. If you’re anything like your predecessor, you’ll be gone this summer.”
“Likely. So, what do you want to tell me about Gettysburg?”
“Tourists don’t realize that people live here, work here. But we need them to make things work. Tourism doesn’t create many jobs, but it brings visitors who spend money. Those who make money from the tourists like things the way they are. But there are businesspeople who resent that the federal government has so much control over so much property.
“Do preservationists win most of the arguments?”
“Oh, they win when it’s something small, like an exhibit or a monument, especially when outside money pays for it. Others repeatedly say enough is enough. They win when money is involved. They know about the success of the casino in Shippensburg and think, maybe we can have something that isn’t so seasonal. Tourism used to be more family oriented. Parents brought their kids, hoping the history would rub off on them. But now it’s mostly adults. They might tour but most are also on their way to something else during the summer, like the State Fair in Harrisburg, the casino in Shippensburg, or the car shows in Carlisle.”
“Mr. Baker, I keep hearing complaints about the Park Service and college students. But I’ve also met people who really love this town.”
“Alben, call me Alben. I’m named for him." He pointed to a framed grainy black and white picture of two men shaking hands on the reviewing stand at a political rally many decades before. “Alben Barkley, Harry Truman’s vice president. My granddad worked on his Senate campaigns. He’s on the left. He turned to face Jay. “Back to your comment, the students come from all over. Most live on campus. They go home on breaks unless there’s some interest in the history that makes them stick around. The Park Service is a different story, depending on which president is in office. Some really care to see that history is accurately represented, others not as much.”
Alben turned his chair to look at a recent photo of Stefani, a sterner expression on his face. “So, I’m curious, Jay. What did Stefani tell you about her prospects?”
Jay stared for a moment at the photo of Stefani in a happier moment. “She considers herself a D-1 level player. But she resents her coach, and Bonita’s needling. Didn’t she play in a league in Kentucky?” The major college teams in Kentucky, the University of Kentucky Wildcats and the Louisville Cardinals, were much better than any college team in Pennsylvania. The quality of play had to be better in the high schools, too.
Alben leaned back in his chair, pressing thumb to thumb. “Stef got really angry after I took this job. She started on jayvee in Danville. Played a few games on varsity at the end of sophomore year. Stef was all set to start on varsity in her junior year—before I told her we’d be moving. She’s still mad at me. Stef not only lost her spot; she missed the AAU summer season. I tried to make it up to her with a job coaching kids at the rec center.”
“How’d that work out?”
“Okay. Little kids don’t expect to see a six-two girl come over and play with them, and it took time for her to become patient with the kids. But by the end of the summer, they were hugging her, hoping she’d come back, and she did. She’s got a standing offer for next summer, too. “
“Stef’s a good kid, but she really needs direction. She whined so much after Coach Hughes put her on jayvee. Coach said that Stefani had a big money shooting touch, but not a nickel's worth of attitude.” Alben sipped his coffee slowly. “Well, after Stef lit it up in the jayvee games for Coach Foster, Coach Hughes had no choice but to promote her to varsity near the end of the season. But Stef went unnoticed when it came time for the Central Pennsylvania AAU programs to send summer invites. She’d spent so most of her junior year on jayvee. So, she went back to the summer job at the rec center and practiced after work with Bonita whenever she could. Bonita and her dad might be the only ones in town who know how talented she really is.”
“She’s got talent, but she seems unhappy.”
Alben sighed “She had no problems with any coach until she played for Hughes. Her mother and I tried to get her to calm down, use this as a life lesson. But she hasn’t learned it yet. We’re not worried about her getting into college, including UK. But she hasn’t realized that UK might not be the place where she could play basketball.”
“I’m curious. How many games did Gettysburg win last year?”
“Sixteen—just missed the state tournament.”
“Guess they expect to do better.”
“Bonita’s the star, a five-tool player, as her father says. She’s got D-1 offers, a couple backed by serious endorsements. But she’s waiting for UConn, South Carolina, Notre Dame, or Stanford. She’d be happy at Maryland, too, but they haven’t called.”
“Do Bonita and her father blame Coach Hughes?”
“Yes and no. Most of the time Bonita is the best player on the court. Hughes knows that. The rest of the team does, too. Maybe, she’d get more notice if she played on a better team. But it’s not like she has nothing.”
“What about Stefani?”
Sad eyed, Alben looked at a picture of Stefani caressing a basketball like a security blanket. “I sent her to basketball camps at UK every summer from the fifth grade on, until we moved here. Stefani got a letter from Coach Palmer—full of hope and promise— when she was 14. She had it framed like a diploma. Hung it over her bed.” Albenlaughed. “Imagine that?”
Jay could. He went to basketball camps at the University of Maryland with similar hopes in middle school and high school. His eyes zeroed in on a picture of Rupp Arena, Kentucky's home court, packed to the rafters for Big Blue Madness. The banner beneath the luxury boxes advertised the event as opening night of basketball season for the men’s and women’s teams. “Who wouldn't want to play there?” Jay asked. The success of Kentucky's legendary men's basketball program, more wins than any school in D-1 play, seven NCAA titles, had to rub off on the women. “Has she heard from them since?”
“Sadly, no. She thinks it’s partly that we moved away, partly because no coaches saw her at AAUs, partly because no one’s talking her up. She blames me and Coach Hughes. Alben set his mug down softly, “Maybe you can help her get there. Herman, that’s Bonita’s dad, we’ve become good friends. He’s an ex-pro, and you know about Bonita’s talents.”
“She’s amazing. Haven’t seen many high school ballplayers with moves and shots like hers. Why don’t you ask the school to get a new coach, or transfer Stefani to another school for the rest of this year. There’s always another option.”
“There is. Work with Stefani on the weekends, or after school, whatever works with your schedule, until tryouts. Help her shape up her game.”
“Mr. Baker, I don’t know…”
“Call me Alben.” he said and smiled.
“So, Alben, let me get this straight. You want me to coach her into D-1 college ball? I’m sorry, but that’s very funny. My sister could’ve done it. She was a serious D-1 prospect and really knew the girl’s game.”
“’Really knew’? What happened since she played?”
“She passed away ten years ago.”
“I’m really sorry, Jay, but maybe you can honor her legacy-and yours. Stef needs someone who’s played in college to push her. I did a google on you. You had quite a career at Gettysburg. All-conference, near the top of the conference in assists and steals, co-captain. You can teach Stef how to become a more complete player.”
“Can’t you find someone who knows the girl’s game? Maybe he does,” Jay said, pointing to a photo of a young man who appeared to be of college age, dribbling a basketball in game action.
“That’s her brother. Chandler’s the other ballplayer in our family.” He pointed to a picture of his son in basketball swag on his desk.
“Where does he play?”
“Just intramurals. He got offers from small schools, but his heart was set on UK, just like Stef. He’s good, just not good enough to make their team, even as a walk-on. Chandler’s a good student, journalism major, covers the team on campus radio. How do you think I got all this neat stuff?”
Jay settled back in the chair, “Chandler sounds like a better role model to me.”
“Well, Jay, brothers are forever. Coaches are forever, too, when they’re very good or very bad. Right now, my daughter needs a very good coach.”
Back in his car, Jay admitted to himself that Alben was right. His sister had played ball around the very good and the very bad. Only he still didn’t know how bad Coach Hughes really was for Stefani.