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"So what are your plans, Mike? Or should I call you Mikey?"
"Mike's fine, Coach, except when my uncle's around. - Anyway, I'm interested in playing ball, and I'm especially interested in Stanford."
"Well, Mike, I can tell you informally that Stanford's especially interested in you. Under NCAA rules, there's just so much I can tell you prior to September 1, but you already know that we've been studying films of your games, and that I really like your defense. How're your grades?"
Jeff spoke up. "Coach, this here kid's shore to be valedictorian at that purty fancy school up 'ere in Pennsylvania."
Bucky grinned at me and said, "Knowing your uncle, why am I not surprised? Again, I'm constrained by the rules not to tell you anything specific before September 1, but you should be able to guess that we'll be very, very interested in you, and as soon as we legally can contact you, you'll be hearing from my staff."
When we got out of the tub and toweled off, Bucky hollered over to an assistant trainer and told him to bring us Cardinal shorts and tee shirts so we wouldn't have to put on our sweaty old things we walked in wearing. So when finally we left, we walked out looking like Stanford varsity jocks.
We walked past the dorm where Jeff and Mike had been roomies for four years. And then, as we strolled over to the Red Barn, in a relatively secluded part of the campus, made bold by the new and unexpected intimacy I felt with Jeff, I said it was obvious that he and Mike had been in love for years. "How did that come to be?"
So Jeff sat down on the lawn under the great live oak, signaled me to join him, and he began.
