SLAM DUNK

TO-WIT: SLAM DUNK

It started out as the kind of call I'd received maybe a thousand times in my career. "Hi," a familiar voice said on the other end, "its ," identifying himself by his first name only, a colleague I have known and respected for many years. That alone made the call unique. I was tempted to ask if he was calling from his cell phone and if he was using Cingular, but that was just way too esoteric. I wasn't even sure that I got the joke.

"And to what do I owe the honor of a call from such a distinguished colleague," I inquired instead, with a sincerity I usually have to fake.

"I'm calling you on the Smith case, I just wanted to let you know that I'll be representing the defendants," he said.

"Ah, so this is my opponent," I thought to myself, answers that question." It's a kind of game I play. Ever since I was a baby lawyer, I've always wondered, as I slid a new complaint across the desk at the Prothonotary’s Office, with whom I would end up doing battle. I could never imagine who would possibly be foolish enough to get in my way, to oppose the intellectual juggernaut, the “that elemental force of law and nature that i s me on the hunt. Would i t be Clarence Darrow? F. Lee Bailey? Myron Rabinowitz? It didn't matter, not really, for once awakened the litigious monster sleeping barely beneath the surface of my soul becomes hell bent on kicking ass, and i t just isn't all that particular who's ass it is.

And with this lawsuit i t mattered less than usual, for if ever there is such a thing as a slam dunk lawsuit, this was it. My clients had signed a contract to buy a home, and the sellers simply reneged. There was no defense, and the only explanation that they proffered, in writing, praised be, was that they had simply changed their minds.

Oh happy days, a slam dunk. I t was going to be like sheep and slaughter. I could taste the mint jelly already. Of course I had told my clients that this was indeed murky waters and that it would require yeoman's work to put things right. Such embellishments serve well to prepare clients for the cauldron that is always litigation, easy or not. It also serves well to hasten the arrival of the retainer. But this was indeed a slam dunk, the Holy Grail of litigation, except this chalice actually exists. So eager was I to get on with it, my slam dunk, that I filed a complaint to compel specific performance even before the retainer check had cleared.

At night, in my bed, I had already begun practicing my cross examination. "Are you lying now or were you lying then?" "When did you stop beating your wife?" "Are you being stupid or just evasive?" They were great, combative questions, designed to draw blood. If only I could figure out a way to work them into this case, I'd be as happy as a pig in swill.

I already knew the applicable law and I already knew the procedure, things that of late I find myself saying with less and less frequency. This must be how my father used to feel whenever he got an order for inventory that had sat unsold in the warehouse for years - found money. Oh, oh oh, and it was a slam dunk to boot. Life can be so sweet.

"Yeah," my colleague continued on the phone, "I've looked a t the complaint and I ' v e seen the agreement of sale, and I told my clients they haven't a prayer. So how's about we close with your clients next week? Deal?"

"Just who the hell do you think you are," my brain uttered, but good sense refused to l e t my lips form the words. I was outraged, simply outraged. My slam dunk, my precious slam dunk, was gone. There would be victory, to be sure, but there would be no slaughter, no bloodshed, only success, a pittance compared to the elegant, vicious massacre I had so lovingly envisioned.

What choice did I have? Oh sure, I could have turned the deal down, I could have said "Not on your life, your misbegotten clients asked for this and now they're going to get it." But that would have been a hard sell to my clients, and perhaps raised an eyebrow or two at the Disciplinary Committee to boot. Once again I had to steel myself to the notion that my clients' needs come first . If my needs remain unfulfilled, well, so be it. I can always go home and kick the dog.

So the case got settled. My clients will get their house, it was resolved relatively swiftly and painlessly, and it was an effective use of the litigation process. Everyone will be happy - everyone, that is, but me.

Oh well, such is life in the law. I've had a few slam dunks in the past and no doubt a few more will come my way. Until that blessed event, I’ll just have to keep my teeth sharp. This morning my secretary asked to go home early on Friday. This seems as good a time as any to deal with it.

© 2006, S. Sponte, Esq.

THE AGE OF AQUARIUS

POPS