"Hey, what's Al doing?"
"Oh, you know, going to school, playing ball. He got 41 the other day."
"I know. Remember I was there."
Not all the calls have been so innocent. Apparently because they realize that Albert cannot be bought, a few coaches have gone to work on Winston.
"...Winston, how much money do you make a year?" asked a recruiter from a school south of the Mason-Dixon Line that should know better. "Well, how would you like a $25,000 job down here with a new car and a nice house...?"
"...frankly we're panicking," said a representative from a team in this week's Top 20. "We'll do anything to get Albert.... Let's put it this way, the sky's the limit...."
"...I'll tell you one thing, Winston," said a man from a warm climate on one of New York's recent arctic days, "you're gonna love living out here too...."
As far as legitimate offers go, Slippery Rock wins the Grasping-at-Straws Award. Slippery Rock tried to turn Albert into a recruiter by asking him to send them the names of some good players he had seen in the East.
"I wouldn't want to be a recruiter," Albert was saying last week between bites of his favorite food, a plain McDonald's quarter-pounder. "You know, having to go around begging kids to go to your school and knowing your job depends on it. I haven't gotten to the place where I can spot one a mile away. But when I see a strange man walk into a gym as hot as ours wearing a three-piece suit, I know something is up.
"What's funny, though, is some of these guys travel hundreds of miles to see me play and then after the game they act like they're afraid to talk to me. I'm only 17. They're adults. But they usually just say something like 'nice game' and that's it. If that's all they want to say, I don't understand why they come."