Read I Am Charlotte Simmons Online
Authors: Tom Wolfe
I Am Charlotte Simmons (8 page)
“Well, it beats running,” said Mike. “Last August, eighty-five degrees and you're out on a track running laps.”
“Everybody has such a fucking edge on,” said Jojo.
“Edge?”
Jojo looked about to make sure nobody else was in the room. “The first day of so-called practice, and I'd like to know who the hell was
practicing.
Everybody's out there playing as if their whole goddamn season depends on impressing Coach on August whatever this is. Everybody's out there trying to cut your legs off to get their minutes.”
practicing.
Everybody's out there playing as if their whole goddamn season depends on impressing Coach on August whatever this is. Everybody's out there trying to cut your legs off to get their minutes.”
“You mean Congers?”
“Yeah, him, but it's not just him. I'm sick of the whole black player thing. Coachânow, he's white. Most of the coaches are white. But they just assume if two players have equal ability and one's black and the other's whiteâthey just assume the black player's better. You understand what I'm saying?”
“I guess.”
“When I was at the Nike camp that year, I practically had to dunk the ball with my fucking feet before they noticed me.”
“They noticed you, or you wouldna been at the camp, and you wouldn't be here.”
“But you know what I mean. And it's actually worse than that. They thinkâthe coaches think, I know this for a factâthey think that in a clutch situation, like the last seconds of the game, you gotta give the ball to a black player to take that last shot. He's not gonna choke. The white player of equal ability will. The white player will choke. That's the way they think, and I'm talking about white coaches. It's gotten to the point where it's a fucking prejudice, if you ask me.”
“You know that for a fact?
How
do you know that for a fact?”
How
do you know that for a fact?”
“You don't believe me? Look at your own situation. You're the best three-point shooter on this team. There's no fucking question about that. I bet you not even André himself would dispute that. If Coach ever had one of those three-point contests like they have at the All-Star game, you'd annihilate André. But he's the starting shooting guard and you're not.”
“Well ⦠Coach thinks he's better on defense.”
“Yeah,
thinks
. That's just the point.
You
know that's bullshit, and so do I. You're just as fast as he is, maybe faster. The fact is, he
assumes
André is faster, and he
assumes
he's gonna be more aggressive and less intimidated if he's gotta defend against some hot black player.”
thinks
. That's just the point.
You
know that's bullshit, and so do I. You're just as fast as he is, maybe faster. The fact is, he
assumes
André is faster, and he
assumes
he's gonna be more aggressive and less intimidated if he's gotta defend against some hot black player.”
“Oh, I don't know about thatâ”
“Why do you think they call you Microwave?”
“I don't even remember,” said Mike with a shrug. He began smiling at the recollection, however.
“You think it's a compliment, don't you? Well, it is, up to a point. They know Coach can pop you into a game and you'll score a whole batch of three-pointers right away, just the way you can pop a piece a meat into the microwave and get yourself an instant meal. But they don't think you're a finisher, and Coach dud'n, either. Coach'll take you off the bench and put
you into the game to close a big gap in the third quarter, but he won't put you in to make the big shots at the end of the gameâand you're the best shot on the team, maybe the best shot in college basketball!”
you into the game to close a big gap in the third quarter, but he won't put you in to make the big shots at the end of the gameâand you're the best shot on the team, maybe the best shot in college basketball!”
“Jojo, you're soâ”
“My situation is the same! Okay, I'm starting, but Coach dud'n think of me as a real player. Treyshawn, André, Dashorn, Curtis, the black players, they're the real players. He comes right out and tells me. He dud'n want me taking shots. I'm not out there to score points. If I try anything other than a dunk or a little bank from two feet out or a tap-in or something, he holds it against me, even if I make it! A jumper from fifteen feet away? Dud'n wanna know about it. He comes right out and
tells
me! I'm out there to set picks, set screens, block shots, rebound, and feed the ball to Treyshawn, André, and Curtis, the
real
players.”
tells
me! I'm out there to set picks, set screens, block shots, rebound, and feed the ball to Treyshawn, André, and Curtis, the
real
players.”
“What's so unreal about that?” said Mike. “You think you're the only one? What about that guy Fox at Michigan State or Janisovich at Duke? You don't think they're real players? I sure as hell do.”
“They're real players, but coaches don't think of them as real players. The only real players are black players. You and me, we just play a role. You're the team microwave. Why? Because Coach can't believe the best shooting guard in college basketball isn't black.”
“Jojo,” said Mike, “stop thinking so hard.”
“You don't have to think. You only have to use your eyes.”
“You're straining your brain, Jojo. I don't know why the fuck you're feeling so neglected. I heard them in there. Go go, Jojo. It id'n as if nobody knows you're on the fucking court.”
Now it was Jojo's turn to feel good despite himself. That was true.
Go go
, Jojo
. Mike hadn't been able to hide his pleasure over “Microwave.” Jojo, all six feet ten inches, 250 pounds of him, was just as transparent.
Go go, Jojo.
Go go
, Jojo
. Mike hadn't been able to hide his pleasure over “Microwave.” Jojo, all six feet ten inches, 250 pounds of him, was just as transparent.
Go go, Jojo.
Â
Â
Mike was eager to go meet this afternoon's love of his life and soon departed the Buster Bowl. Jojo finished dressing. He was putting on his khaki pants when he noticed an unusual weight in the right-hand pocket.
Odd
âbut in the next moment it didn't seem odd at all. He knew what it would be, but he didn't know exactly what kind it would be. He didn't want to exaggerate the possibilities ⦠On the other hand, he
had
been power forward for the national champions last season ⦠That gave him a
Christmas
sort of excitement.
He didn't want to spoil the surprise by looking right away. He stepped inside his locker to fetch his T-shirt, which had sleeves not likely to deny the public a look at the density of his upper arms. Inside the locker, the oak walls had not been stained or polyurethaned but, rather, left natural and polished and oiled. At this moment they gave off a rich smell, those walls, and Jojo treated himself to a huge lungful. He was as excited as a child, and everything seemed especially wonderful, even the inside of his locker.
Odd
âbut in the next moment it didn't seem odd at all. He knew what it would be, but he didn't know exactly what kind it would be. He didn't want to exaggerate the possibilities ⦠On the other hand, he
had
been power forward for the national champions last season ⦠That gave him a
Christmas
sort of excitement.
He didn't want to spoil the surprise by looking right away. He stepped inside his locker to fetch his T-shirt, which had sleeves not likely to deny the public a look at the density of his upper arms. Inside the locker, the oak walls had not been stained or polyurethaned but, rather, left natural and polished and oiled. At this moment they gave off a rich smell, those walls, and Jojo treated himself to a huge lungful. He was as excited as a child, and everything seemed especially wonderful, even the inside of his locker.
He walked all the way down the hall to the players' entrance to the arena ⦠and still managed to fight off the impulse to look at what precisely was in that pocket, which now seemed to create heat and vibration along with the drag of its weight. He swung open one of the double doorsâand thereâright in front of himâthere it was!âpoised against a backdrop of chestnut trees and maples, which in turn looked luxuriant against the ultimate backdrop, a flawless summer afternoon skyâ
oh shit
, it was too good to be true, but there in a no-parking zone of the arena drive: a brand-new Chrysler Annihilator SUV pickup ⦠white, gleaming in the sun, massive, perfect for a six-foot-ten, 250-pound national champion power forward, a four-door SUV with a five-foot pickup truck-bed extension covered by a sleek white lid. And
oh shit oh shit
, there were chromed Sprewell spinners on the wheels! It was the most magnificent object Jojo had ever laid eyes on, a monster, but a luxurious monster, with 425 horsepower and every extra known to American automobile manufacturing. Jojo stood still on the sidewalk about fifteen feet away from this awesome manifestation of beauty and power and slowly withdrew from his right-hand pocket ⦠sure enough, a set of keys on a ring that also bore a little black remote-controlled transmitter and an inch-long, lozenge-shaped tab with a piece of white enameled metalâjust like the car'sâon one side and a license plate number on the other.
oh shit
, it was too good to be true, but there in a no-parking zone of the arena drive: a brand-new Chrysler Annihilator SUV pickup ⦠white, gleaming in the sun, massive, perfect for a six-foot-ten, 250-pound national champion power forward, a four-door SUV with a five-foot pickup truck-bed extension covered by a sleek white lid. And
oh shit oh shit
, there were chromed Sprewell spinners on the wheels! It was the most magnificent object Jojo had ever laid eyes on, a monster, but a luxurious monster, with 425 horsepower and every extra known to American automobile manufacturing. Jojo stood still on the sidewalk about fifteen feet away from this awesome manifestation of beauty and power and slowly withdrew from his right-hand pocket ⦠sure enough, a set of keys on a ring that also bore a little black remote-controlled transmitter and an inch-long, lozenge-shaped tab with a piece of white enameled metalâjust like the car'sâon one side and a license plate number on the other.
Jojo pushed the unlock button and heard the
rat-tat-tat
of the four SUV doors unlocking. He pushed the pickup button, and the sleek white lid of the truck bed rose silently. He closed it, then opened the driver's door, stepped way upâthe roof of this monster was almost as high as his headâand slid behind the wheel. Tan leather seats â¦
the smell
! It was even richer than the smell of the lockers, just this side of intoxicating. On the passenger seat was what looked like a small white leather album, no bigger than a wallet. And inside ⦠but he really already knew: the vehicle's registration and insurance cards in the name of his father, David Johanssen. It was no doubt
the same arrangement theyâthe booster club, known as Charlie's Roundtableâhad made for the Dodge Durango he had, in fact, driven over to the Buster Bowl this afternoon. The monthly leasing bills came to his father, but the boosters paid them in an under-the-Roundtable way Jojo didn't particularly want to know about. Jojo liked the Durango. It was a great SUV. But this! The Annihilator, pure white, gleamed before his very eyes and gleamed and gleamed some more. It was bigger and more powerful than an Escalade or a Navigator.
rat-tat-tat
of the four SUV doors unlocking. He pushed the pickup button, and the sleek white lid of the truck bed rose silently. He closed it, then opened the driver's door, stepped way upâthe roof of this monster was almost as high as his headâand slid behind the wheel. Tan leather seats â¦
the smell
! It was even richer than the smell of the lockers, just this side of intoxicating. On the passenger seat was what looked like a small white leather album, no bigger than a wallet. And inside ⦠but he really already knew: the vehicle's registration and insurance cards in the name of his father, David Johanssen. It was no doubt
the same arrangement theyâthe booster club, known as Charlie's Roundtableâhad made for the Dodge Durango he had, in fact, driven over to the Buster Bowl this afternoon. The monthly leasing bills came to his father, but the boosters paid them in an under-the-Roundtable way Jojo didn't particularly want to know about. Jojo liked the Durango. It was a great SUV. But this! The Annihilator, pure white, gleamed before his very eyes and gleamed and gleamed some more. It was bigger and more powerful than an Escalade or a Navigator.
He loved it. It was like a dream. He felt as if he were in a control tower overlooking ⦠the world. The instrument panel looked like what he imagined an F-18 fighter plane's looked like. He turned the ignition key, and the monster came to life with a deep, highly muffled roar. Jojo thought of an underground nuclear test.
The ultimate power.
He loved it. On top of the dashboard was a four-inch-square card embedded in plastic. In the middle of it were two bold capital letters, AD, for Athletic Department, in the center of a corn-yellow circle, around which was a ring of black against a mauve background. That was all it said, AD ⦠aside from a small black ID number in one corner. It was the most coveted parking permit on campus. It allowed you to park practically anywhere, anytime.
The ultimate power.
He loved it. On top of the dashboard was a four-inch-square card embedded in plastic. In the middle of it were two bold capital letters, AD, for Athletic Department, in the center of a corn-yellow circle, around which was a ring of black against a mauve background. That was all it said, AD ⦠aside from a small black ID number in one corner. It was the most coveted parking permit on campus. It allowed you to park practically anywhere, anytime.
Basketball players seldom walked through the campus. They drove, as Jojo did now. All the boys preferred SUVs. Subconsciously, they maintained the height advantage and muscular advantage they enjoyed in life on the ground. Whether by design or not, it was one more thing that isolated them from ordinary students and ordinary mortals generally.
But sometimes you developed a craving for all those earthlings to get a load of your astonishing physical presence up close. And so it was to be with Jojo on this lovely, in fact enchanting, late summer afternoon.
He tooled around on the campus drives a bit, so that people could envy him for his great 32-valve behemoth; but shit, there was almost nobody around, and too few of those who were seemed sufficiently staggered by the sight, not even with the chrome Sprewell spinners playing tricks on their eyes. He didn't even spot any of the other guys' SUVs. They had had to walk over to the parking lot to get them. Come to think of it, he'd have to go back to the lot himself to retrieve the Durango and return it to the Chrysler/Dodge dealership.
Yet the sense of added magnificence the Annihilator provided him remained strong. He was heading back to his suite in Crowninshield, and cruising along past the Great Yard on Gillette Way, looking down upon the
world, when on an impulse he pulled over to the side and parkedâin a no-parking zone, but what did that matter? He got out, stretched his big frame, and began strolling along a path that cut across the Great Yard on a diagonal.
Go go, Jojo.
He was feeling triumphant and in a mood to be noticed, although he told himself he just needed some fresh air and sun.
Go go, Jojo.
There were no students to be seen, only some old people, tourists or whatever they were, walking around and looking at the buildings.
world, when on an impulse he pulled over to the side and parkedâin a no-parking zone, but what did that matter? He got out, stretched his big frame, and began strolling along a path that cut across the Great Yard on a diagonal.
Go go, Jojo.
He was feeling triumphant and in a mood to be noticed, although he told himself he just needed some fresh air and sun.
Go go, Jojo.
There were no students to be seen, only some old people, tourists or whatever they were, walking around and looking at the buildings.
Surely
someone
would show up. Here he was, at the heart of a great university, one of the five best-known people on the campus ⦠Nobody, not the president of the university or anybody else, was nearly so recognizable or awesome as the starting five of the national champions.
Go go, Jojo.
Of course, Dupont was just a stop on the way to the final triumph, which was playing in
the League.
In the meantime, being at Dupont was cool. Everybody was impressed that you were playing ball for Buster Roth. For that matter, everybody was impressed that you were even
attending Dupont.
The sweet irony was that he had wound up at a better university than Eric. If the unthinkable happened and you didn't make it to the League, it was pretty good credentials just to be able to say you graduated from Dupontâassuming you managed to keep your grades above water and
did
graduate. Well, that was what tutors were for, wasn't it?
someone
would show up. Here he was, at the heart of a great university, one of the five best-known people on the campus ⦠Nobody, not the president of the university or anybody else, was nearly so recognizable or awesome as the starting five of the national champions.
Go go, Jojo.
Of course, Dupont was just a stop on the way to the final triumph, which was playing in
the League.
In the meantime, being at Dupont was cool. Everybody was impressed that you were playing ball for Buster Roth. For that matter, everybody was impressed that you were even
attending Dupont.
The sweet irony was that he had wound up at a better university than Eric. If the unthinkable happened and you didn't make it to the League, it was pretty good credentials just to be able to say you graduated from Dupontâassuming you managed to keep your grades above water and
did
graduate. Well, that was what tutors were for, wasn't it?
Doubts began to form. What if something
did
happen? In high school, teachers would tell him that he had a perfectly good mind, but it wasn't going to do him any good if he didn't apply himself and develop it; and if he didn't, someday he'd regret it. He took it as an inside-out compliment. He didn't have to apply himself and develop his mind and all that stuff. He was of a higher order of student. He was a basketball star. The high school would make sure he had the grades he needed to stay eligible. Which they did. Several times he got really interested in courses and did pretty well, but he was careful not to let on. One time he wrote a paper for history that the teacher liked so much he read part of it to the class. He could still feel how exciting and at the same time embarrassing that had been. Luckily, word of it never got beyond the classroom.
did
happen? In high school, teachers would tell him that he had a perfectly good mind, but it wasn't going to do him any good if he didn't apply himself and develop it; and if he didn't, someday he'd regret it. He took it as an inside-out compliment. He didn't have to apply himself and develop his mind and all that stuff. He was of a higher order of student. He was a basketball star. The high school would make sure he had the grades he needed to stay eligible. Which they did. Several times he got really interested in courses and did pretty well, but he was careful not to let on. One time he wrote a paper for history that the teacher liked so much he read part of it to the class. He could still feel how exciting and at the same time embarrassing that had been. Luckily, word of it never got beyond the classroom.
His brother, Eric, had made all these good grades and gone to Northwestern and then to the University of Chicago Law Schoolâand big deal. For the past four years, two at Dupont and his last two in high school, Jojo had completely overshadowed His Majesty the Brilliant Firstborn. In the general sense, nobody knew who the hell Eric Johanssen was, and tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands maybe, knew who Jojo Johanssen was.
But â¦
what if something did happen and nobody in the NBA drafted him
? The problem with Vernon Congers was not so much that he might take his starting position away from him, but that Coach might bring Congers in off the bench more and more and cut into his, Jojo's, minutes, which would mean that he would fade in the stats and in every other way. If that happened, he could forget the NBA. Suddenly he'd be that pathetic animal, a college has-been with a piece of paper from Dupont and nowhere to go. He'd be nothing. Maybe he could get a job coaching basketball at Trenton Centralâand Eric would be what he was right now, a lawyer in Chicago on the threshold of a limitless future ⦠The hell of it was, Congers was so goddamned good! Big, strong, quick, aggressive, and
absolutely determined to prevail in this game
! Far faster than it would take to recite it, all this rushed together in Jojo's midsection. Now there was no mistaking the feeling, which was fear.
But â¦
what if something did happen and nobody in the NBA drafted him
? The problem with Vernon Congers was not so much that he might take his starting position away from him, but that Coach might bring Congers in off the bench more and more and cut into his, Jojo's, minutes, which would mean that he would fade in the stats and in every other way. If that happened, he could forget the NBA. Suddenly he'd be that pathetic animal, a college has-been with a piece of paper from Dupont and nowhere to go. He'd be nothing. Maybe he could get a job coaching basketball at Trenton Centralâand Eric would be what he was right now, a lawyer in Chicago on the threshold of a limitless future ⦠The hell of it was, Congers was so goddamned good! Big, strong, quick, aggressive, and
absolutely determined to prevail in this game
! Far faster than it would take to recite it, all this rushed together in Jojo's midsection. Now there was no mistaking the feeling, which was fear.
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