"Uh-huh. Uh-huh. No, we understand completely. Of course." CD looks up as Geno storms through the office with a couple of more framed pictures under his arm. Sometimes CD wonders where all these mementos of the disowned alumnae come from; Geno's been getting rid of them in his own unique way for four years, but they seem to reappear, like weeds.A moment later, glass smashes against the wall and Geno returns without the pictures, pinning her with an expectant look. "Hold on, Charlotte." She presses the hold button and says to Geno, "Carolina says they don't have room in their schedule to renew the contract."

Geno doesn't acknowledge this. He picks up the phone and says, "Get Sylvia. Because you don't have the authority. Get Sylvia." A long pause. CD edges her chair away from Geno. He speaks again. "Don't give me this bullshit story about not fitting us into the schedule, I've seen D-II teams that play tougher slates. You cut us out, your RPI is gonna sink like a stone. Give me a real reason, and I don't give a damn- oh, really? Is that all? Shoulda just said so. Sounds like there's no changing your mind. Have fun playing North Carolina Central and wondering why you're not ranked." He slams the phone down.

"I didn't think you'd believe me, or them." CD gets up and drags the other chair over for Geno, only to find him in hers. Unperturbed, she sits in the second chair.

"It's not even bullshit. It's chickenshit. The old girls' network thinks I've picked a side, thanks to Pat's passive-aggressive little snit and Vivian's hypocritical martyr act. They both tried worse things than I ever thought of, and I get the blame. And with this shit with the conference…"

"They're not going to kick us out of the Big East for this. Two schools protesting-"

"Three. Notre Dame got on the bandwagon."

"Three, then. They're not going to kick Connecticut out. Pitt and Rutgers will storm off to the Big Ten first." Something flashes in CD's eyes at the mention of her alma mater, but this has become one of those things that they don't mention anymore, in the same sealed-up box as Sue and Diana, as Ann and Maria and Shea, as glimpses of familiar personality on unfamiliar canvases. This is dangerous ground, and CD's always been good at steering Geno off that. "B says she's almost got Stanford in the bag, and she's working on Cal for next season. She thinks we might be able to get Arizona State-"

"Only if they come here," Geno says, and CD doesn't argue his point. "The fucking SEC. I remember when Andy had more balls than this. Ten years ago, he woulda spat in all of their eyes and brought us down to the Dome."

"I was talking to one of the assistants there, and she said that he's been bringing in a lot of very similar recruits," CD says. When Geno gives her a why-should-I-give-a-damn look, she continues, "Frett's almost certain he's using the technology with either Edwards or McClain, or even both to get some variation. She was working on her resignation letter when I called, so I don't think we'll get any confirmation until we see them on ESPN."

"Son of a bitch. So what if he's killing them? Even if you count… that… as living, he's taking twenty years off those kids' lives easily. As long as he finally gets his title, who gives a damn?" Geno gets up and starts pacing. CD lets him. There are no refs here to get him in trouble for it, and he knows better than to vent on her with any more than words. "The fucking SEC. Blockade's complete, then?"

CD suddenly grins. "If we throw the right sweeteners in, Florida will break ranks. Rumor is the school is looking to go to the ACC anyway, and they don't care about going out in a blaze of glory. We'll probably have to play it at their place, though, go two for one."

"Excellent. Tell them to get some recruits while they're at it so we don't run them out of their own gym." He frowns in thought. "Wouldn't have expected Florida to be the one to cross the line, though."

"We could probably set up a Southern swing; Kristy offered a semester break game. Gotta love those Purdue coaches." CD smiles at the memory of the unsolicited call from Sharon, offering a home-and-home series in perpetuity after the well-publicized vitriol thrown at UConn by several notable coaches. "I think I should give B a call and see if she knows anything about Purdue in connection with this."

"After we have next year's schedule. Fairfield, Sacred Heart, and Central Connecticut should shut the state up about not playing Hartford this year. You call House yet?"

"Left a message. He'll do it. Virginia needs the attention. Montana says they have to think about it. Michigan's waiting on the word from the Big Ten. Green Bay's asking for more money. If we get Florida, I think we can get Auburn."

Geno shakes his head reluctantly. "Don’t even bother calling. Nell's in cahoots with Pat. She doesn't have the guts to break with her conference. Get on Montana, get on the Big Ten. We've got Purdue, so if that doesn't help, they're all assholes anyway."

There's a knock at the door. Geno looks ready to shoot the messenger, so it's up to CD to open the door and greet the dignified young man who says, "The athletic director would like to meet with both of you immediately concerning the future of this program." The words are precise, rehearsed, emotionless. CD nods acknowledgement and gathers herself, smoothing her jacket down to remove the imaginary wrinkles.

Geno's mouth twists like someone just shoved a lemon down his throat. "Looks like we got us a moot point here," he says, indicating the sheets of paper next to the phone. "Chris, have I ever thanked you for keeping my occasionally dumb ass out of trouble for thirty years? Cuz it looks like the ride's over."

"You've thanked me enough, trust me." She offers him a smile, but he doesn't take it, and she doesn't recognize the look of bitterness and weariness that crosses his face as he gets out of his chair.

Suddenly he laughs, but it's a dry, mirthless thing that sounds worse than he looks. "You believe this shit? We created them… and now they're gonna destroy us."