Twelve Men in the Huddle, page 25
“Look around,” said Pete. “Everyone is built like Hercules on this team. Once you realize the possibility, it all makes sense.”
“You don’t think it’s my GameChanger?” asked Harper. “A plan based on scientific evidence that has been replicated across the nation? What about that fact gentlemen?”
“I’m sure it helps,” said Pete. “But it can’t explain the facts at hand Dr. Harper. This team, the Tulsa Valley Tarpons, is being exposed to anabolic steroids in an illicit fashion, which once disclosed – will implode the program in a spectacular fashion.”
“You’re both nuts,” said Harper. “How can I even begin to approach the administration with such accusations? They’ll throw me out.”
“We’re just looking for answers,” said Connor. “You’re the medical director, so we’re putting the ball in your court.”
“I hope we’re wrong Dr. Harper,” said Pete. “If there is another explanation, I’d love to hear it.”
“What about all the random blood tests?” asked Harper. “They’ve been negative across the board for years. No Tarpon has ever tested positive for steroids – ever! Try and explain that with your crackpot theory!”
“I’ve got a good explanation,” said Pete sharply.
“I’d like to hear it.”
“The trainer’s cream tested positive for epitestosterone,” said Pete.
“What?”
“You heard me. The trainer’s cream, the one that is applied to every athlete during mandatory massages, has epitestosterone in it.”
“Why would you say that? I mean, how do you know such a thing?”
“I sent some cream samples to a lab,” replied Pete. “They confirmed it. The cream was loaded with epitestosterone, but no testosterone.”
Harper just stared at his sports fellow, and then looked Connor Kelly directly into his eyes. His mind was racing.
“Think about it Dr. Harper,” said Pete. “It’s the perfect scheme. You knowingly expose an athlete to testosterone and reap all the athletic benefits from the drug, yet cover it up by administering epitestosterone at the same time. There’s a twisted beauty to such a plan, which from a medical standpoint, is ingenious.”
Harper stared at the floor, trying to process the information.
“You lost me there again Pete,” said Connor.
“Epitestosterone is a masking agent, commonly used by steroid abusers,” replied Pete. “If an athlete is abusing steroids their T:E ratio will be abnormal.”
“That I’ve already learned,” replied Connor. “Should be 1:1.”
“Right, it should be one to one,” said Pete. “So an abuser’s ratio will be 6:1 or 11:1, which was mine.”
“Ah… got it,” said Connor. “I understand now. So if you take epitestosterone at the same time…”
“Exactly,” said Pete. “Your T:E ratio, will be normal, even if you’re blatantly dumping steroids into your bloodstream. Of course, the correct dosage of epitestosterone must be administered. It’s the ideal plan – for cheaters.”
“Who approved your actions?” asked Harper, now changing gears.
“What actions?”
“To send out the cream, and have it analyzed? You’ve broken some proprietary laws young man, at a minimum.”
“No one,” said Pete. “I did it on my own. For the safety of everyone on the team.”
“I see,” said Harper. “And what about Connor’s normal blood test, followed up by an abnormal test shortly thereafter? Where does that fit into your conspiracy theory?”
“When he was at school, he was receiving daily massages,” said Pete. “The cream was laced with epitestosterone, so his T:E ratio was normal.”
“So when I go back home, no more rub downs,” added Connor.
“Which then sends his T:E ratio off the chart,” said Pete. “It makes sense.”
Harper stared down his understudy, and appeared shaken. He slowly started to bob his upper body back and forth, searching for plausible reasons.
“Something is amiss,” said Pete. “Year by year – everyone getting bigger. My levels through the roof, Connor’s levels up and down. And how about Beef, he’s gone prematurely bald with a shrunken set of testes? What about the Twister’s demeanor and everyone getting into fights? How about the green tea? Dr. Wong claims it can bring down testosterone levels. It all adds up. You just have to connect the dots.”
“What about Jamal?” asked Harper. “Did he experience the same medical maladies? You know, the saggy breasts, shrunken testicles, acne?”
“No,” said Pete. “That’s what doesn’t make sense. We did everything together. Jamal never experienced any side effects.”
“So you have no explanation?” asked Harper. “I would consider that a pretty well controlled study, you and Jamal that is, going through the exact same environment, with completely different results. Doesn’t that kind of blow up your hypothesis?”
“I have no explanation,” replied Pete. “A vagary of the system perhaps.”
“Who else have you shared this theory with?”
“No one,” replied Pete.
“Well, except Eugene,” said Connor. “He’s been over here a lot, and in the conversation.”
“I see,” said Harper. “Eugene, the scrawny back up punter? I guess his body doesn’t respond to anabolic drugs being deposited unlawfully into his system. You guys are just too much.”
No one responded. A few seconds went by.
“Well,” said Pete. “What do you think?”
“I don’t believe it,” barked Harper confidently while standing up. “You two are under too much pressure. I suggest you relax, concentrate on the big game, and let the administration handle the whole affair.”
“But Dr. Harper…”
“That’s my professional recommendation gentlemen,” said Harper sternly. “To suggest such a heinous scheme, just three days before a national championship game would be Armageddon. I’m not going to be a part of it.”
“We just want answers,” said Connor. “I hope you can prove us wrong.”
“What else did you send out for testing?” asked Harper. “Illegally I may add.”
“A skin patch and some cider,” replied Pete bluntly.
“And…”
“All negative,” said Pete.
“Listen boys, I’ve had enough of this medical quackery. Dr. Wagner, quite frankly I’m shocked by your actions. You’ve been watching too much television. Let me look into a few things and …”
“No!” said Connor. “This is my reputation on the line Dr. Harper. It’s not going to go away. I want an answer—by game time—or else.”
“Or else what Connor? What are you going to do?”
“Pete and I will release a video, immediately after the game, on social media,” said Connor. “You know – Youtube, Facebook, Twitter.”
“Saying what?” Harper’s eyebrows were raised as he stared at the running back. “What can you possibly have to say that will make any sense?”
“Exactly what we’ve discussed,” replied Pete. “A video voicing our concerns, awaiting some plausible explanation to present itself. There has to be an answer. We need an answer.”
“I’ve never used anabolic steroids Dr. Harper,” said Connor. “I’m not going to take a fall for this university. My family’s name and reputation are both on the line. I’ve been violated Dr. Harper, in more ways than one.”
“Why would you post such a video?” asked Harper. “It’s equivalent to suicide. You would harm the reputation of everyone associated with the football program, including Coach Hayes. Would you like to see that happen Connor? How about Heather Jackson, Dean Royce and President Davis? These people bleed Tarpon blue. They all love you Connor. For Christ’s sake, we’ll all be castrated! Do you really want that?”
“Please, Dr. Harper. Find us some answers,” said Pete. “You’ve been here the longest. We both respect you. You must know some reason as to how this may have occurred? Maybe it was accidental, who knows? But we need some answers – quickly.”
Harper stared down at the floor, realizing their accusations had some validity. He looked up at the two with a pathetic shake of his head. “You’re both nuts, but I’ll look into it.” He turned around and left, leaving the door wide open. Neither Pete nor Connor hurried to close it, realizing they had both crossed the point of no return.
“There is no video, right?” asked Connor.
“Right,” said Pete. “I don’t think we’ll need one.”
As Dr. Harper stormed across campus, he failed to notice Hal Green pass by. Green was on his way to a lecture in the biochemistry department. He had the date circled on his calendar for months. The venue was the old Sokol Building on campus, home to the College of Arts and Sciences. The speaker was a graduate student in defense of a thesis, the last step necessary for a doctorate degree. After finding the classroom, Green took a seat in the rear. Before him was an empty podium facing five faculty members. In the middle of the room were some friends and family of the speaker, present for moral support. All told, the crowd numbered thirteen people. The talk began exactly on time.
After a brief introduction, the speaker immediately dove into the scientific mumbo jumbo of the presentation, causing Green to again study the manuscript. The paper was titled: Anabolic Steroids and the role of Random Blood Testing in a Collegiate Athletic Association – An Alternative to the T:E Ratio. As the speaker rolled on, it became obvious to Green that his brain was void of any neural synapses capable of understanding the biologic arena. Slowly he paged through the thick thesis, glancing at charts and graphs, all constructed to prove some esoteric point in regards to steroids. He occasionally looked up at the spectacle, wondering how the professors could possibly hold their attention for so long. Academia he thought, definitely not his ball of wax. His mind wandered and within thirty minutes, he dozed off.
He dreamed of being back at the Badlands, with Brianna at his side, the two swashbuckling through the bayou. She wore a pair of tight, cut off jean shorts and a snug T-shirt, with a beat up baseball hat, gunning the throttle of a speedboat. As each wave hit, her body symmetrically hoisted up and down in rhythmic fashion, a grin on her face. Suddenly, a gun shot in the distance prompted him to reach for his firearm, but it was gone. He then looked up, into the barrel of a pistol, in the hands of Brianna. She held the weapon like a real pro, cocked sideways ninety degrees as if involved in a gangland dispute. The sultry bartender ordered him to get up, and step off the boat. He refused at first, until a single bullet shot grazed his right ear. She told him it was a mile to shore, and the tide was high, giving him a fifty-fifty chance. She cocked the trigger back and he jumped into the murky water, his feet touching the muddy bottom. Brianna hit the throttle full tilt, spinning sharply towards home and never looking back. A wave of briny water shot up his nose, causing him to gag. He started to swim but the bump from below stopped him in his tracks. Looking to his right, a large bubble full of blood surfaced along with a portion of his leg. It was then he felt the pain. Another bump from below, and his legless torso began to bob up and down in the water, trying not to capsize. It had to be Emma he thought, the gator of all gators. He screamed out in vain as his head sank below the surface, where he saw a leathery, tooth filled snout approaching. He howled again, only to wake up. A pool of saliva was on the desk. After wiping it off, he focused forward, noticing everyone to be staring at him.
“Yes, a question from the rear?” asked one of the professors. “Was that a question, or a scream of terror?”
“Excuse me,” said Green. “I apologize.”
“Do you have a question sir?” asked the professor. “If not, as you have seen, we can conclude this scholarly defense, which up until this point has been brilliant.”
Hal looked up to the clock. He had been asleep for forty minutes, missing the whole presentation. He shook his head to gather his composure. Some family members stared at him impatiently.
“Again,” said the professor. “Do you have a question? If so, please identify yourself.”
“Ah yes,” said Green while standing up. He pulled a crumbled paper from his pocket and began to read the first of a series of questions. “My name is Hal Green, and I do have a few questions for our speaker.”
“Go ahead.”
“Yes, first off. Is it possible for an athlete to be exposed to anabolic steroids and not know it?”
The speaker stared back at Green.
“Well? Is it possible?”
“Answer the question,” said the professor. “This is a doctoral defense, so any questions must be answered to the best of your ability.”
“Yes,” was the terse reply.
“Great, thank you. Is it then possible, by ways of manipulating your so called T:E ratio, to avoid detection by governing bodies, and randomized testing?”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation in the response. “That has been well proven, both scientifically and in the public forum.”
“What’s the most common way to avoid detection?” asked Green. “That is, based on your scholarly review of the subject, which brings us all here today.”
The speaker paused to gather some composure. “Ah, I’m not sure… can you repeat the question?”
“Yes,” said Green. “If you had to cheat the system, based on your research, how would you do it? What is the most efficient and full proof means of accomplishing such a goal?”
“Good question,” said the lead professor. “I’m looking forward to the answer.”
“The answer is obvious,” replied the speaker. “It’s been done, quite successfully among professional athletes.”
“And…”
“You administer both testosterone and epitestosterone at the same time,” said the graduate student. Her PhD depended on the answer. “In the correct ratio that is. The epitestosterone is simply a masking agent.”
“What’s the best way to administer both drugs?” asked Green. “Again, if you were setting up the scam.”
“There is no best way for testosterone,” said the speaker. “All modes of entry into the body are equally efficacious.”
“How about the epitestosterone?” asked Green. He stumbled on the pronunciation. “What’s the best route?”
The professors all looked at the student, in anticipation.
“A cream,” said the student. “A topical cream is by far the best way. It’s been proven over and over.”
The professors nodded in unison.
“Thank you, I have no further questions,” said Green with an appreciative wave. “Thank you very much Ms. Hicks.”
“A most wonderful presentation Piper,” said the lead professor. “What you have presented here today, as an alternative to the standard T:E ratio, is groundbreaking material. I applaud your work. I can assure you that your presentation here today, will be looked favorably upon by…”
“Oh, excuse me,” said Green. “I’m sorry, but I have one more question.”
“Yes, what is it?” asked the professor. His tone was short.
“Ms. Hicks, is that your name?”
“Yes. Piper Hicks is my name.”
“Your full name? Is that your full name on the front of the paper? Where it reads ‘Piper Hicks’.”
“Yes, that is my name. Piper Hicks.”
“Yes, I know that’s your name. But maybe we’re not communicating here. I’ll reword the question.”
“Please do Mr. Green,” said the professor. “We’re already past the allotted time for questions.”
“What is your full legal name Mrs. Hicks? As if you were filling out your taxes?
A pause. The professor looked at Piper. He held up both of his palms and shrugged his shoulders, prompting her to answer such an innocuous question.
“My full name is Piper Hayes-Hicks,” said the athletic trainer.
“Hayes, did you say Hayes?”
“Yes.”
“How do you spell Hayes?”
“H-A-Y-E-S.”
“Thank you. I have no further questions.”
Chapter Twenty Seven
A PAINFUL RESIGNATION
“Well, here’s your answer,” said Eugene as he tossed the Sunday morning edition of the Tulsa Eagle on the table. “Mr. Lance Tucker is the source of the testosterone.”
“What?” yelled Connor. “Lance! No way!”
Pete picked up the paper and stared at the bold print headline – Tulsa Valley Trainer Source of Steroid Concern. A subtitle read – Head Trainer Used Drug for Medically Approved Conditions. The article covered the entire front page and was co-authored by local sports reporter Jesse Pickett and national correspondent, Hal Green. On the front were two photos of Lance, one of him standing on the sideline of Tarpon Stadium, and a second in the weight room, instructing the proper mechanics of a deadlift.
The article described the trainer coming forward with personal information for the sake of the team. Reference was made to the legal use of androgenic steroids in the United States, a fact commonly overlooked by the general public. A brief discussion listed common ailments treated with steroids such as hypogonadism, failure of growth and angioedema. The article noted that when a patient is diagnosed with such conditions, a written prescription is the only requirement needed to administer the drug. When properly used, the class of anabolic steroids positively benefited the lives of countless patients around the world.
Lance Tucker was using the medication for two specific purposes. The first was an anemia, or low red blood count in his bloodstream. The second was infertility, a condition the trainer had been battling for years. Both medical conditions were approved for the use of testosterone in the United States. What followed was a discussion as to the route of delivery of the drug into a patient’s body. Options included pill form, injections and topical skin patches. In Lance’s case, a topical cream was the recommended delivery route. When applied correctly, the cream would deliver a transdermal dosage to help improve the trainer’s condition. The key take home message of the story was “when applied correctly.” Based on his contact with multiple players on a daily basis, there existed the possibility of cross contamination of the medication. Simply put, if he applied the cream in the morning and didn’t carefully wash his hands, a future hand to body contact with a player could potentially deliver the drug across the player’s skin into their bloodstream. This was the case with Lance, who over the years treated scores of Tarpon players on a daily basis. Specifically, he spent an inordinate amount of time caring for Connor Kelly during his recent knee injury. This close trainer to athlete contact was the postulated route of testosterone into the star running back’s body, transiently elevating his testosterone levels.
