Part 1, Episode 8: "The Plot Thickens (no, really, it does)"

I just don’t understand it!” Coach Knight ranted as Conrad drove them both back to the Farnsworth campus.

“I know Ron. I don’t get it either,” Conrad replied.

“Moran is just not a D1 player, especially not in a major conference. He’s going to be nailed to their bench for four years. Why would he want to do that instead of going somewhere he could play, maybe even be the star of the team?”

Coach Knight was referring to the stunning development that ended their meeting at Agnew High School. Less then 24 hours after obtaining a commitment from Mark Moran, Midville’s best high school basketball player ever, Knight and Conrad had watched in horror as he was extended a full scholarship offer by Edgar Allen Poe University.

The word had come from Mark’s high school coach, who had been contacted by EAPU’s athletic director Richard Dick. Mark appeared to be too stunned to react, but his father acted like he had just found a winning lottery ticket. His mother, predictably, cried.

“Why did the athletic director call and not their basketball coach? That doesn’t make any sense,” Knight said, continuing his rant.

“No it didn’t,” Conrad thought. The only idea that had come to him was that Dick, who he and most staffers in the EAPU athletic department had referred to as “Double Dick,” was hell-bent on doing further damage to Conrad’s already seriously wounded career by stealing Farnsworth’s prized recruit. “Why would he go to this much trouble to keep me down,” Conrad thought, “hasn’t he already won?” “By framing me and getting me fired, hadn’t he already delivered the knockout punch? Was he just doing this for spite? Didn’t he have better things to do? Or was there some other secret, diabolical reason? What was this, ‘As the Ferret Turns,’ Conrad wondered.



The two defeated men returned to campus, Conrad thought, just in time to avoid Coach Knight having a stroke. Now into the early evening, Conrad returned to his office not quite ready to ingest his nightly Super Star Burger combo (no cheese, only ketchup). Expecting to find an empty office, he was surprised to find the reporting duo from the Frederick Star-Bulletin, editor Buddy Wright and Farnsworth beat writer Jimmy Harris, seated in front of his desk.

“Well, look what slithered in,” Conrad began. “We’ve got to tighten up security around here.”

“Oh, so now you’ve got a comedy routine,” Wright responded. “I hope that works out better for you than this gig.”

“Gee, I didn’t think you cared,” Conrad replied as he plopped into his chair. “What can I do for you ink-stained wretches?”

“We wanted to follow up on the Moran story, Conrad,” Harris said.

“What’s to follow up?”

“Cut the crap, Conrad,” Wright blurted. “We got a tip a little while ago that Moran got a full ride at EAPU. Do you want to confirm that?”

“Don’t you mean Moron,” Conrad tersely replied.

“Cute. Well, what do you have to say about it?” Wright pressed.

It had been a long day for Conrad by this time, and in his fatigued state he felt the frustration of this day and most others since he had first stepped foot on the Farnsworth campus welling up inside of him. His chest was tightening and he could feel the warm sensation of his face and ears reddening. He knew he should walk away and take a moment to pull himself together, but he chose, instead, to let the emotion out in a tsunami of anger directed at Wright.

“Look, you piss poor Perry White wannabe, this never would have happened if your paper had spelled the kid’s freakin’ name right! He was a done deal, he wanted to play here, he wanted to graduate from here. But nooooo, your birdcage liner of a paper couldn’t be bothered to spell his freakin’ name right! That opened the door for his parents to try and get him away from here and into the big time. You know what, that kid is not a D1 player, yet thanks to your fishwrap he’s going to EAPU and sit on the freakin’ bench for four years. Why? Because you couldn’t spell his freakin’ name right, that’s why?”

Conrad stopped to draw a breath, and Wright interjected. “Are you finished or do you wanna stay on your little soapbox for a while?”

Conrad glared at his adversary for a moment, then slowly said, “Get out of my office. Get out now before I THROW YOU THROUGH THE FREAKIN’ WINDOW!”

Conrad would have chased down those words and stuffed them back in his mouth if he could have. The idea of him actually carrying out his threat was laughable, since Wright had as least 50 pounds on Conrad, but no one was laughing. He had crossed a line here and undoubtedly made things even worse for himself. If he had not realized that on his own, the gleam in Wright’s eyes as he stood to leave and the look of dread in Harris’s would have clued him in.

Back in his suite and desperate to hear a friendly voice, Conrad called his best friend Nick Petrocini. They had not kept in touch very well since Conrad had started at Farnsworth, but Nick could be counted on for an encouraging word whenever he needed it.

“Hello,” Nick, picking up on the fourth ring, answered.

“Hey Nick, it’s Conrad. How’s it going?”

“Hey buddy, it’s going ok,” Nick replied hesitantly. “How are you?”

“I’m hanging on by my fingernails, man. It’s been tough here,” Conrad said, preparing to unburden himself as he had done so many times over the years. Before he could, however, Nick cut in.

“Hey pal, we’ve got come company over here tonight. Can I catch up with you a little bit later?”

Conrad, taken aback, said, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Great,” Nick hurriedly replied. “Talk to you later.” Nick hung up.

Conrad sat holding the phone for a moment. He had left messages for Nick recently that had not been returned, and now he had been blown off when he really needed a friend to talk to. Then Freddie arrived home.

“Hey Conrad, did everything work out with the basketball kid?” Freddie asked.

“They worked out so well you just might have the place all to yourself this time tomorrow,” Conrad told Freddie later that evening.

“Oh yeah,” Freddie responded. “Are you getting your own place?”

“I’ll have to if the Old Man fires me.”

“Fire you! Why would he do that? This whole mess wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, but I threatened that idiot sports editor at the Star-Bulletin earlier.”

“I assume you were going to do more than cancel your subscription.”

“You could say that. I told him if he didn’t leave, I was going to throw him out the window.”

“Oooo, that’s bad, Conrad.”

“I know it is. I just snapped. This was just the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.”

“Will you be relieved if he does fire you since you’re so unhappy here?”
“That’s a good question, and surprisingly enough I think the answer is no. Sure, it’s been really frustrating here but I think this program has a lot of potential. The way the town responds to you, all we have to do is give them some teams worth rooting for and they’ll fill the stands. With that spirit and the resources the Old Man is willing to commit, this really could be something special.”

“Well then, I don’t believe that great ferret in the sky brought you here just to get kicked in the ass. I’m sure everything will work out. Hey, since there’s nothing on TV tonight, would you like to go and catch a movie?”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very good company, Freddie.”

“I know, but that’s OK. I can be charming and witty enough for the both of us. What do you say?”

Conrad, smiling for the first time today, replied, “You are one charming ferret. Just don’t take advantage of me, OK.”

Freddie laughed and responded, “I’ll try, but after all I AM just a dumb animal, albeit with opposable thumbs.”

Conrad’s smile widened as they headed out the door. “You’re much more than that, my friend.”

As Conrad expected, Buddy Wright wrote a withering editorial in the next morning’s Star-Bulletin calling for the Old Man to fire Conrad. Wright called him “the embodiment of The Peter Principle. After a long career in a support role for EAPU’s athletic department, Kondratowitz had yet to demonstrate any vision for Farnsworth’s athletic program or the ability to lead people in any direction whatsoever.” “That termite probably misspelled my last name on purpose,” Conrad thought.

Wright also pointed out, “Kondratowitz clearly has no people skills. He resorts to intimidation, screaming, and threatening people to get his way.” Wright did not mention the previous day’s incident directly, but he would surely use that if pressed to support this allegation.

The editorial ended with a call for the Old Man to “cut his losses and remove this cancer from the otherwise beautiful Farnsworth campus. Like any malignant growth, Kondratowitz needs to be neutralized immediately to insure the health of everything around it.” It was the first time that Conrad could remember being compared to a tumor.

Conrad read the piece over several times, then neatly refolded the paper and headed to Galaxy Burger. While at the student union, he could tell who had read Wright’s column. Those were the people who averted their eyes when he came into their line of vision. After coming there two or three times every day, the people at Galaxy Burger had become like an extended family, but even they kept their distance this morning.

When he arrived at his office, Gretchen met him with a sympathetic “keep your chin up” smile. Once he was settled behind his desk, she walked in and said, “Mr. Farnsworth wants to see you in his office at noon.” Conrad thanked her for the message, then she turned around and said “I’m sure everything will be all right.”

“Thanks,” Conrad said, “I hope so.” He then looked up at the clock, which read 9:05. Well, three hours until I see if I get the pardon from the governor, Conrad thought.

Arriving at the Old Man’s office at 11:45, Conrad first faced the unpleasant task of speaking to Kate. Conrad had heard her referred to as a watchdog for the old man, the only debate focusing on whether she more closely resembled a rotwiller or a pit bull. When Kate saw him, she said cordially, “Mr. Farnsworth is expecting you. Go on in.” “So she can be civil,” Conrad thought. “She’s probably just trying to get me to let my guard down before the Old Man whacks me,” he concluded.

“Connie, my boy. Have a seat,” the Old Man warmly greeted him. Conrad, distracted by fear for his job, mistakenly sat in the plush leather chair directly in front of the Old Man’s desk. He felt the man-eating piece of furniture engulf him too late to gracefully extricate himself from it’s grip.

“Yesterday was a tough one, wasn’t it my boy,” the Old Man began.

“That, sir, is an understatement,” Conrad replied.
“I bet you’re wondering why EAPU would bother swooping in and grabbing a recruit from a Division III school like ours, aren’t you?”

“I sure am, sir.”

“So was I, my boy. I got a call last night from the editor at the Star-Bulletin, Sam Grant, telling me about the column Buddy Wright had written for this morning’s edition. He also seemed puzzled that EAPU would target Moran. It just didn’t make sense to him.”

The Old Man stopped for a moment, obviously relishing whatever story he was about to tell Conrad and. It was also apparent he was going to take his sweet time before entering into a discussion of Conrad’s job status.

After the dramatic pause, the Old Man continued. “People in management positions don’t, as a rule, make decisions arbitrarily. In order to understand why someone takes a specific action, one must obtain enough information to determine his reasoning. That’s what I spent last night and this morning doing. I have plenty of connections in every walk of life, my boy. After all, I’m rich.”

The Old Man paused again, then resumed his tale. “It was obvious that Mr. Dick at EAPU had an axe to grind against our school, and your presence here would logically seem to be the only reason for that, wouldn’t you agree, my boy?”

“Yes sir, that’s the only thing that makes any sense,” Conrad replied, preparing to be thrown overboard to save the school from the wrath of the Ravens.

“Of course it is. Now the greater question is, why would he still target you? In fact, why was he so worried about you that he hatched his scheme to drug you and take photos of you with the dean’s wife, with whom Mr. Dick is having an affair, by the way.”

The thought of ‘ol Double Dick having sex added to the queasy feeling in Conrad’s stomach. Why would the dean’s wife fool with scum like him, anyway,” he wondered? “No time to worry about that now,” Conrad thought, “I’ve got my own problems right here.”
“I’m sure you remember, Connie, that your demise was the second shocking story to come out of EAPU in recent months. The first one was…” the Old Man paused waiting for Conrad to finish the thought.

“…..EAPU gaining admission to the Enormous East Conference. Nobody thought we had a snowball’s chance in hell of getting in, especially since we would be the 13th team. All the experts thought the EEC was locked in at 12 schools.”

“Exactly. Do you remember who made the big push for them to gain acceptance, even threatening to pull his own school out and join the Mid-Atlantic Conference?” the Old Man asked.

“Sure. It was the president at Liberty Bell University in Philadelphia. They’re one of EPAU’s biggest rivals. Their support for EAPU came completely out of left field.

“That’s right, my boy. Just like your dismissal,” the Old Man paused again, waiting to see if Conrad could fit the pieces of the puzzle together.

After pondering things for a few moments, Conrad, who had been staring down at his shoes, looked directly at the Old Man and with a sense of astonishment, asked, “You don’t mean?”

“I do indeed, my boy. Your former employer had used the same tactic to gain MWU’s support that he used to remove you. As the colloquial phrase goes, he had pictures. You are still a target because he lives in fear that you will find out and blow the whistle.”

“Wow!” Conrad exclaimed. “How can I do that without any hard evidence?”

“That, my boy, is for you to figure out. I’ve given you the ammunition, now you need to strategize how you will use it. And be sure of this, you must use it, and promptly. We cannot afford to have this fool make Farnsworth University his personal punching bag. Richard Dick must be neutralized.”

The Old Man paused, then concluded the thought, “Connie, your continued employment here depends on it.”