Nothing Lost by John Gregory Dunne

did say ‘alleged,’ J.J., check the tape—‘to have caused it to happen to Ms. Brittany Barnes, who is the aggrieved party here, not Mr. Cannon, Jr., and in the meantime I did not forget the question I was supposed to forget I asked . . .’—I should’ve said ‘when you were blowing smoke up my ass,’ but I didn’t—‘and the question was, why Dr. Strong thought it was necessary to suspend Ralph Cannon, Jr., from the team on those previous occasions.’ And Leo says, ‘Dr. Strong, you don’t have to answer that,’ but he raises his hand, and he says, ‘I’m comfortable answering that, Leo, it’s been covered extensively, however unfairly, in the media.’ ”
    Any criticism of John Strong was unfair. Ipso facto. He was unassailable. He had always believed it. Rhino boosters thought it was the secret of his coaching success.
    Allie waited for J.J. to respond, and when he didn’t, she continued. “He says, ‘Yes, Miss— Vasquez, is it? Such a lovely Spanish name, Rafael Huerta, our strong safety, is of Hispanic heritage, and yes, on two occasions I did suspend Mr. Cannon from our program, in fairness to my other kids, on the first occasion for one game, as you know, on the second for two.’ And he smiles, like he’s some straight-from-the-shoulder guy.” Allie leaned forward. “J.J., what is this shit about the football program?”
    â€œWhat shit about the football program?”
    â€œThe word. ‘Program.’ When I was at Cap City Community, we never called the criminology department the ‘criminology program.’ ”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œAnd the professors called us students. Not ‘my kids.’ He a fag?”
    The thought had flickered across his mind. Not that John Strong was gay. Just the idea of coaches and their “kids.” Avoid that. “Allie, get on with it.”
    â€œOkay, J.J. Calm down. So . . .” She paused for effect. “I said, ‘Let’s talk about those two suspensions. I want to hear Dr. Strong,’ and Strong looks at Leo, and Leo says, ‘Mr. Cannon had anger issues.’ I remind him that on one of those occasions, Jocko had hit a student water boy in the face with his helmet, breaking his nose in the process. And the flack, Larry, he says, ‘Because he didn’t have any Gatorade.’ I’m working my way around the no-Gatorade defense when Strong realizes how it must sound. ‘I’m a firm believer in counseling and anger management therapy. Mr. Cannon is not a dangerous person, he’s not an O.J. Simpson, he has a problem with anger, and he has occasional outbursts.’ I let ‘occasional outbursts’ pass, and he says, ‘So I admitted him back to the program because I felt he would benefit by the kind of structured setting that I and my coaching staff and other kids in the program could provide for him. I firmly believe in the inherent worth of young people, and giving everyone the opportunity to correct mistakes.’ Then he says, ‘I could’ve done the popular thing and dismissed Mr. Cannon from the program. But I wanted to do the right thing. I’m willing to take the heat for my kids, and I’m prepared to live with my decision.’ And I say I’m relieved to hear that. And he says, ‘You know, young lady, this alleged incident is going to do harm to a good young man.’ Now he sounds like Father Flanagan, he’s running Boys Town out there, there’s no such thing as a bad boy. Or a bad nose tackle. At least until his eligibility expires . . .”
    â€œAllie . . .”
    â€œOkay.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “So I ask him in what way Jocko could be harmed. And the flack says, ‘It could affect how high he’s taken in the NFL draft. And if he’s not a top-ten pick, that could cost him a lot of money.’ So now