The Company You Keep (32 page)

Dwight Reginald beamed. He had a full head of neatly groomed hair, the requisite Grantham orange-and-black-striped tie and a ruddy complexion that spoke of outdoor sports and a deep familiarity with bourbon on the rocks.

“Thank you, Conrad, and great to see all of you—many familiar faces, I might add.” He nodded to the audience. “I am happy to report that once again Grantham had a banner year in sports.” Looking at his printed notes, Reginald ran down the statistics of league winners, individual performances and records set.

Mimi found it hard not to zone out. She reached for the water glass in front of her. The coach of the men’s squash team next to her slanted her a worried look. She smiled knowingly. “Don’t worry, Coach. I’m not in an aggressive mood today,” she whispered.

He responded with an unsteady smile of his own.

“It’s also important to point out that Grantham regularly meets its Title IX requirements in terms of proportionality. With fifty percent of the student body female, we also have a fifty-fifty split between men’s and women’s sports.” He leaned forward and peered toward Mimi’s end of the table.

Mimi was aware that he was singling her out.
Don’t bother,
she felt like telling him.
I’m too wrung out from the morning to bother taking on chicken feed like you.

“Excuse me, Mr. Reginald?” It was a voice seated in the middle of the panel.

Mimi leaned forward, surprised to hear Vic speak up.

“Yes, Vic,” Reginald answered. “I’m delighted to have one of our most successful athletes with us today.”

“Well, I can think of quite a few Olympic medalists, not to mention more illustrious professional athletes who graduated from Grantham who might dispute that claim,” Vic said modestly. Then he pulled a folded sheet of paper from his jacket.

Mimi rubbed her upper lip.

“I was curious about your figures regarding proportional representation.”

The Athletic Director nodded.

“A recent article in the
New York Times
dealt with subterfuges that some colleges are using to give the illusion that more women are participating in competitive sports than is actually the case,” Vic mentioned calmly.

“For instance,” he went on, referring to his notes, “the coach of the women’s tennis team at one university actually encouraged walk-ons to join the team even though their abilities were far below the rest of the roster. They practiced with the team, but were not required to travel, and in fact, never played a match. Nonetheless, these players were included on the official team listing, thus boosting the total number of women players.” He turned his head to look at Reginald.

“I can assure you that’s not the case at Grantham.” He made his remarks to the audience.

Bad move, Dwight,
she thought.

Vic shifted in his chair. “Then maybe you could help me to understand the following. I’ve been doing research on the web, and I was surprised to see that the women’s fencing team regularly has eight members traveling and competing. Yet, according to the records filed with the government, the team is comprised of…let me see—” he peered at the figures “—twenty-five members. When I spoke with the coach earlier in the week—a terrific guy, by the way, and certainly someone who knows how to attract top players—he told me that those twenty-five included eight female players who haven’t broken into the top spots—what most of us think of as junior varsity. But that still left nine positions unaccounted for.” Vic looked up. “And that’s when I learned that the team uses male practice players, and that they are actually reported as members of the women’s fencing team, as well. So. You understand my confusion.”

The athletic director’s neck got taut. “That’s all perfectly above board. Federal regulations allow that arrangement.”

“But is it right?” Vic pressed him.

Reginald lifted his hand. “With the government, right isn’t always the issue.”

His response evoked some ripples of laughter.

“You know, I think we can all applaud the impact Title IX has had on our sisters and daughters,” Vic continued in his methodical, polite fashion. “Since the law was passed the number of women athletes competing at the collegiate level has exploded by 500 percent.” For that number, he didn’t need to refer to his notes.

There was a loud round of applause from the audience.

“If I could jump in here.” Mimi held up her hand. Vic’s arguments had prompted her out of her intended aloofness. “But before I go on, Coach—” she looked at the panelist seated next to her “—could you take this.” She held her water glass high enough for everyone to see and handed it to her right.

There were more than a few knowing murmurs.

“As a proud alumna of Grantham University, I like to think we do things not just because we’re legally bound to do so, but because we believe it’s the just and honorable thing to do.” She paused to acknowledge the audience members. She didn’t make her living in front of the camera for nothing. “So in listening to this discussion, I can’t help wondering, ‘Are we morally cheating our students?’”

The athletic director started to speak, but Mimi held up her hand. “Let me finish. After all, I’ve waited twelve years to say this.” She milked the crowd for all it was worth. “The chance to compete at a high level of sport at Grantham is a privilege, a privilege I might remind you, subsidized by tax dollars—all our tax dollars.” She made a circular motion with her hand. “When the university—our university—obeys the letter of the law but not the spirit, it not only mocks the purpose of the law, but it also cheats its women students.”

Mimi sat back and waited for the onslaught. She saw people whispering in the audience. She tipped her chair back to see if she could get Vic’s attention, but he was slanted forward, leaning on his forearms.

Conrad held up his hand. “Before we take questions from the audience, let me ask the rest of our panel members if anyone else care would care to comment?”

“Okay, I’ll be brave, but then, maybe it’s easier for me to be brave than for others,” the Men’s Lightweight Crew coach spoke up. A beloved and highly successful figure, he’d won more national titles than any other coach in Grantham history. He numbered twelve Olympic champions as present or former members of his squad, and he himself coached two medal-winning Olympic teams.

“Roster management, the polite term for padding team figures, is the two-ton gorilla of collegiate athletics. In the best of all possible worlds, I know I’d like to see instead an increase in the number of women’s teams. I’d even like to see the reinstatement of certain men’s teams, such as wrestling.”

“Hear, hear,” came a cry from high in the audience.

“But achieving equitable opportunities are not easy, especially in light of football—a money-generating sport with large team numbers. And given the current climate of budget constraints, expansion of other sports teams—men’s or women’s—is pretty much a no-go.”

The athletic director nodded. “I couldn’t agree more. That’s it in a nutshell.” He acknowledged the coach, who Mimi saw, crossed his arms and didn’t smile back.

“I mean, really, would you rather we cut back on football?” the director asked the audience jokingly. Then he turned to Vic. “I would think that you of all people, in light of your football career and given previous comments on this very panel would argue that’s utterly preposterous.” He held up his hands.

Vic angled his head and spoke in a determined voice. “I’m very grateful for the opportunities that Grantham afforded me in my career. And I remember—probably better than anyone in this room, with the exception of my classmate at the end of the table—what I said twelve years ago.”

Again, the knowing murmurs.

“But Grantham also taught me to be a critical thinker,” Vic continued. “And when I was preparing for this panel discussion, I was amazed by the numbers. Five hundred percent increase,” he repeated. “I love sports, I loved participating in them at the highest level, and maybe some day I’ll have a daughter, and maybe because of Title IX, she’ll be able to enjoy sports the same way.”

There was thunderous applause.

Reginald sniffed loudly and rifled through his papers. “And are you accusing me of somehow inhibiting your fictional daughter of achieving her dreams?”

Clearly, he’d lost it, Mimi realized. The question was, had Vic, as well?

“I’m not accusing you of anything.” He remained unperturbed. “I’m merely bringing up a very real and complicated problem facing intercollegiate athletics today. I don’t claim to have the answers.”

Reginald shook his head. He leaned toward Vic, sprawling his arm out on the table toward him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder about the origins of this whole discussion. True, there’ve been some articles in the paper. But I also heard from a bunch of people that they saw you two talking early the other morning outside the athletic facilities.” He pointed to Mimi. “Not that I’m insinuating anything, but somehow I can’t help thinking.” He held up one hand. “A football player.” Then he held up another. “An attractive woman who we all know is not afraid of controversy…” He weighed his two hands in turn.

“Excuse me,” Mimi interrupted. “I resent that.”

“I think you’d better apologize to Ms. Lodge.” Vic’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it echoed to the back row.

Mimi lifted her butt off the chair and leaned over the table to address Reginald directly. “I was going to say you should apologize to Mr. Golinski for implying that he isn’t capable of voicing a thought-provoking argument all on his own. I, on the other hand, am perfectly capable of defending myself.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.” The male voice came from the other end of the panel. And that’s when the water pitcher upended on the athletic director.

Only it wasn’t Vic.

It was Conrad.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

MIMI FOUND HER FATHER outside the men’s room. He had gone in there soon after the session ended in pure pandemonium. He was still patting down the sleeves of his orange class blazer with paper towels as he reappeared.

“Well, I guess you didn’t need to worry about the panel discussion running overtime,” she quipped.

He looked up. “I’m not sure we’ll be invited for a third go-round, wouldn’t you agree?”

Mimi rose and lowered her shoulders. “Hey, your money’s still plenty good.”

“Just not as much of it, now that I’m no longer with Pilgrim,” he reminded her.

“I’m sure you’ll bounce back.” Mimi found herself in the odd position of having to defend her father. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Listen, I want to thank you for the noble gesture.”

“The little snot was getting on my nerves. And between you and me, the scuttlebutt is that he’s due to be replaced by the end of the summer anyway.”

Mimi nodded her head knowingly. “I see. An easy target.” Why wasn’t she surprised at his shrewd calculations. She watched her father wipe his hands. “You certainly didn’t miss, that’s for sure.”

Conrad balled up the paper towel and tossed it into a trash bin. “On a more personal matter, I hope you will one day understand that I instigated your participation on this panel in an effort to help you.”

“Father, can we just drop that discussion for now?”

“I’m sorry, but no. And I
am
your father, so you will listen to me.”

Mimi bit her tongue.

“Mimi, your ordeal in Chechnya was horrific. And I am not belittling its severity. But it only sped up the detachment you have from the world, your inability to reach out. It had been my impression twelve years ago that there was something about Vic Golinski that awakened a passion in you. I’m just saying, consider my motive.”

Mimi breathed in deeply. “Leaving aside whatever you saw and didn’t see between Vic and me. I can’t believe you’re professing a sense of true love and devotion. If you really believed in those virtues, you wouldn’t have cheated on my mother. You knew she wouldn’t be able to deal with it.”

“Your mother couldn’t deal with many things. My infidelities were the least among them.”

“Yes, she had problems. But that doesn’t justify your infidelity. Besides, what about Press’s mother, Adele?”

Conrad opened his mouth.

But Mimi held up her hand. “No, don’t bother. You don’t need to give any explanations when it comes to that cow. If I’d been married to her, I’d have cheated on her, too—though I hope you know what effect it’s had on your son.”

“That last remark is for Press and me to deal with—when the time comes.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Mimi mumbled.

Conrad ignored her comment. “As for my supposed serial unfaithfulness—I’ll have you know that I’ve never cheated on Noreen, nor would I ever. You may not believe me, but I loved your mother—in a fashion. But Noreen?” He paused. “She’s the love of my life. I would do anything for her.”

Mimi opened her mouth, then hesitated. “Now I get it. This whole asking me to participate on the panel? Your version of shock therapy? Admit it, Father, you didn’t do it for me. You did it for you. For you to show Noreen how much you love her. It was probably at her prodding that you did it. She was the one, after all, who was pushing me to see a psychiatrist, not you.”