Read the beginning of Chapter 1 "Freeze", from Scoreboard, Baby: A Story of College Football, Crime, and Complicity by Ken Armstrong and Nick Perry:

"March 14, 2000: Six Months before the Season Begins

Kerry Sullivan tried to be careful. Sometimes, when customers would telephone, he’d turn them away. Not today, he’d say, or at least not right now. He wanted to space things out. He wanted to avoid heavy traffic. His rule was: Don’t push it. A typical house does not have people lined up out front—people who knock, enter, and leave in five minutes, one after the other. If a cop sees that, he’ll catch on.

That was one consideration—when to sell. Another consideration was, who to sell to. On occasion, he sold marijuana to uw football players. Sam Blanche, a backup linebacker from California, was a customer. “Sam B” is how Sullivan knew him. Blanche would call maybe once a month and drop by for $40 worth. Another customer was Curtis Williams, a starting safety and one of the team’s best players. Everybody knew him as “C.W.,” or “C-Dub.” But for the most part, Sullivan steered clear of the football team. He figured players, with their high profile, stood a better chance of getting caught and fingering him as their source.

Customers came to Sullivan’s home—to apartment 101, in the slate gray house, set back from the street, atop a rise, with a thicket of trees offering some semblance of privacy. Sullivan lived on Twenty-second Avenue Northeast, a block north of the uw campus. Two houses down was Tau Kappa Epsilon, a fraternity that might have been reminiscent of New England—the gabled roof and classic dormers—were it not for the aluminum siding.

Ten months earlier, Sullivan could have gazed upon the TKE house—it was right there, out his kitchen window—and gotten all the warning he needed about dealing with football players. On back-to-back nights, members of the football team attacked the fraternity, kicking in the front door, smashing out windows, busting up furniture. They had been turned away from a party there—that’s what started it all. Not that it took much to get football players and fraternity members sideways with each other. The second night, the football players didn’t exactly try to sneak up on anybody. They called ahead of time and said: We’re coming to settle this. They arrived after midnight—ten of them, at least—and set upon the house. One Teke was grabbed around the neck and slammed into a wall. Another was hit on the head from behind, then kicked while down. Prosecutors refused to bring felony charges, a result that seemed to suit everybody except some of the Tekes’ parents, who complained of athletes getting special treatment and talked of how their kids feared retaliation and didn’t want to get the football team in trouble.

That kind of drama, Sullivan would just as soon avoid. Now twenty-four, he had been selling marijuana for about a year. He also went to school, at Seattle Central Community College. His criminal record extended back to his juvenile years and included charges of theft and misdemeanor assault. He had been popped for possession, but not for dealing. The key was to be careful. He had maybe twenty regular customers. Others came his way through campus word of mouth. He charged $40 for an eighth of an ounce—enough, maybe, for seven or eight joints. Bulk rates were cheaper. He was often paid in twenties, which he would fold in half and tuck between his mattress and box springs.

On March 14, 2000—a Tuesday, while the university was on spring break—Sullivan got a call from a football player who’d been a customer for about six months. The player asked if Sullivan would be willing to sell a half ounce to a friend called “J.P.” Sure, Sullivan said. Half an hour later, a guy identifying himself as J.P. called, to confirm. No problem, Sullivan said. A half hour after that, J.P. called back. His girlfriend didn’t have the $140 he needed for a half ounce, he told Sullivan. Could he buy a $40 bag instead? Sullivan said sure."

Ken Armstrong and Nick Perry are reporters for the Seattle Times. Their investigative work on the 2000 Huskies won two of journalism’s highest honors: the George Polk Award and the Michael Kelly Award, recognizing “the fearless pursuit and expression of truth.” In 2010 Armstrong and Perry shared in the Pulitzer Prize for breaking news reporting, which was awarded to the staff of the Seattle Times for its coverage of the shooting deaths of four police officers. 

To read a longer excerpt or to purchase Scoreboard, Baby, visit http://www.nebraskapress.unl.edu/product/Scoreboard-Baby,674647.aspx.