CHAPTER 40

The tents were not designed to serve as permanent and began to deteriorate after six months in the elements. The rainy season was over but the water and mud had stained them so badly that the rows of crisp white tents were now a hodgepodge of brown dwellings patched with strips of old clothes and scraps of plastic and sheet metal. Some sagged, others completely collapsed, still others had been moved to other sections of the sprawling camp, many replaced by shanties erected with cardboard and whatever materials could be found. The baking sun further eroded the tents’ stitching, seams, and zippers. Patching the holes became a daily chore.

Beatrice purchased three bright blue tarps at the market, one for her, two for her friends on either side, and they draped them over their roofs and tried to secure them with baling wire. The tarps were a luxury and soon attracted unwanted attention.

Each morning they arose early and left to find a line at a food distribution point. After breakfast, she and her friends walked their eight children to school an hour away. Another friend, an elderly gentleman across the alley, kept an eye on their tents. Beatrice paid him with tins of canned meat.

Tensions were mounting in the camp as ethnic rivalries spilled over the border, and as the war back home raged on. The Dinka were blamed by the Huer, Bari, and Azande for causing the current war, the atrocities, the diaspora that forced them into the refugee camps. Insults were common and then the fighting began. Teenagers and old men in gangs attacked each other with sticks and rocks. Ugandan soldiers were sent in to quell the violence, and their presence became part of life at Rhino. With hatreds that went back for decades, the atmosphere was tense, a powder keg waiting for a match.

One morning Beatrice and her friends returned from the walk to school and at first noticed nothing unusual. The coveted blue tarps were in place, but inside the tents everything was gone. Thieves had slashed gaps in the rear of the tents and stolen their food, clothing, blankets, pillows, empty water jugs, the Central tee shirts and souvenirs, everything. Their guard, the old man across the alley, and a Dinka, was missing.

The three women did not panic and said nothing. To do so would be to attract even more unwanted attention, and where would they report the crimes? There were no police, and the Ugandan soldiers were there to stop the fighting, not waste time with petty crime.

They went about the task of figuring out how to patch their tents again. When she was alone, Beatrice sat in hers and had a good cry.

How could someone steal from the poorest souls on earth?

· · ·

Central finished the month of February with three more wins—at home against Norfolk State and Delaware State, and on the road at Eastern Shore. They were 12–5 in conference, 16–13 overall, and gearing up for the MEAC tournament, one they had to win to advance to the Big Dance. Sooley was averaging 31 points and eight rebounds a game. He had worked his way into the starting lineup and getting 32 minutes, more than anyone except Mitch Rocker, who rarely came out. The team had settled nicely into an eight-man rotation with Murray and Rocker in the front court, Sooley and Roy Tice at forward, and Melvin Montgomery at center. Dmitri Robbins, Duffy Sunday, and Jabari Nix came off the bench and were getting plenty of time.

The season’s final game was at home against Florida A& M, the regular season champs at 15–2. The game was on a Saturday afternoon, March 5, and three days before, during a practice, the AD interrupted things with the thrilling news that ESPN was coming to The Nest.

The news electrified the campus as 8, 000 students scrambled for tickets. The gym’s capacity was only 3, 500 and a fourth of the seats belonged to season ticket holders. Coach Britt set aside five passes for each player. Sooley gave three to some girls he was hanging out with.

He was featured in a pregame story that tracked the last nine months of his life. There was footage of him hamming it up in Orlando with the boys from South Sudan, and a canned shot of the refugee camp at Rhino Camp South. The reporter talked about the violence back home, the death of his father, the plight of his mother and brothers. There was a request to interview him for the segment, but Coach Britt said no. He didn’t want the distraction, and he didn’t want any player to get too much attention. Sooley was fine with the decision. Miss Ida had warned him to stay away from reporters, and Coach Britt concurred.

· · ·

On game day, the fans arrived early and choked the aisles. Maintenance had managed to squeeze in temporary bleachers for three hundred more, a move that required approval from City Hall. The mayor of Durham was a Central alum and the AD fixed her up with great seats.

An hour before tip-off, the band roared to life and the students danced under the backboard. The cheerleaders kept the frenzy going. The Eagle Dance Team shimmied and pulsated. The Nest had never been so packed or so loud. When FAMU jogged onto the court to warm up, they were met with a thunderous wave of boos. Seconds later, Mitch Rocker led Central onto the court and the place exploded. After the initial roar, the students immediately began their now customary chant of “Sooley! Sooley! Sooley! ”

He smiled, laughed with his teammates, did his layups and dunks, and tried to ignore the racket. He knew he was being watched closely, and he had become accustomed to the attention, but it was difficult to ignore and often an irritating distraction. Life off the court was getting complicated and he didn’t much like it. Murray was becoming his advisor, screener, protector, pit bull. Murray was also assuring him that there was no jealousy on the team. Hell, they were thrilled to be in the midst of a 10-game winning streak and to have a sudden star scoring 30 points a game. Fire away, Sooley!

The crowd quieted somewhat for the national anthem, then exploded again when the Eagles’ starters were introduced. Television cameras seemed to be everywhere. ESPN banners hung high in the corners.

Coach Britt’s dream opening was a long three by Sooley to light up the gym. The play had been practiced at length. Because Sooley could out-jump Melvin Montgomery by at least six inches, as well as every other center in the conference, he was now handling the tip-off. For the fourth game in a row, he tapped it easily back to Murray, who brought the ball up the court. He pointed this way and that, called a play that didn’t exist, seemed to be frustrated with something, shook his head, but kept an eye on the clock. At 20 seconds, every Eagle sprinted to a different spot. Sooley spun from the free throw line, darted to the basket, lost his defender to a hard screen by Roy Tice, popped out under the basket with one foot out of bounds, kept moving, peeled off another screen and caught a bounce pass in the corner 30 feet from the basket, with a defender scrambling to catch up. He pulled up high and lofted a perfect jump shot. When it hit the bottom of the net, The Nest exploded.

It would take a few minutes for the FAMU players to adjust to the mayhem, to realize they couldn’t hear each other or their coach, to find their groove, to just settle down and play basketball. In the meantime, it was bombs away. The second time down the court Mitch Rocker whipped a pass behind his back and Sooley caught it as he skied from 24 feet. On the other end, FAMU burned almost the entire shot clock before kicking the ball out of bounds. On Central’s third possession, Murray missed a short jumper but followed it in, got his rebound, bounced it out to Mitch Rocker, who faked a shot, got his man in the air, then fired a pass to Sooley, who was well-covered. Didn’t matter. With his defender hanging on, he sprang high and hit his third straight. A whistle nailed the obvious foul, and Sooley converted for a gorgeous four-pointer. He had the first 10 points of the game, and in less than two minutes.

FAMU missed again and Mitch Rocker walked the ball up. Sooley popped out of the scrum and took a pass standing 35 feet from the basket. He faked a shot, sending two defenders high in the air. He then streaked for the basket and dished off to Roy Tice for an easy dunk.

Down 12–0, FAMU took a time-out.

The Rattlers were not 15–2 by accident, and within five minutes closed the gap to 16–10. After making his first dramatic threes from long range, Sooley cooled off and missed his next two. On a short jumper, he drew a foul from his man, a good defensive player. Sooley decided to work on the third foul, which was called at 8: 04. During a TV time-out at 3: 56, Central led 39–34, and an old-fashioned shootout was under way. At that pace, both teams would score at least 90.

At the half, Central led 48–41. Sooley had 19 points and was 5-for-9 from behind the arc.

· · ·

FAMU tied the game at 60. Seconds later, Sooley’s man got his fourth foul. His replacement was two inches shorter and a step slower. It was time to make a move. Murray fed him at the top of the key and Sooley drilled an 18-footer. The teams swapped baskets and the lead changed as both defenses began to lag from fatigue. Sooley realized his man was no match and began waving for the ball. He hit two straight threes and suddenly Central was up by 10. The lead vanished when Sooley took a breather at 5: 10. Mitch and Murray took turns missing bad shots and Lonnie screamed himself hoarse. They couldn’t hear him anyway. He called time with four minutes to go, trailing by two. Sooley reentered the game and his coach gave him the look: “Start shooting and don’t miss. ”

He hit two straight and the students spilled out of the bleachers. He missed one, then hit another, all from far beyond the arc. The Rattlers picked an unfortunate time to go cold and Central was poised to run them out of the gym. When Sooley hit his 11th three-point shot, out of 20, FAMU used its last time-out to stanch the bleeding, but it was too late.

At the buzzer, the students stampeded onto the court in a rowdy celebration. The players were swarmed and hugged and high-fived and thoroughly adored. ESPN was thrilled not only with such an exciting game, but also with the discovery of a true star, one it had introduced to the rest of the country. Sooley scored 47 points, had 11 rebounds, and 10 assists. A triple-double.

An announcer on the sideline tried to interview him, but he was too busy working his way off the court.

· · ·

He and Murray fled to the Walkers’ for a Sunday night pizza. Life in the dorm had become too complicated. Interruptions at all hours. Girls knocking on the door. Indeed, Sooley was finding it difficult to do anything on campus other than hide in the gym. Six weeks earlier he’d hardly been noticed in class. Now he was signing autographs and posing for photos. A ten-minute walk from one class to another took forever as he was pestered. Everyone wanted a photo, something to post, something to brag about. Even reporters were calling. He was ignoring social media altogether.

In the basement game room, they watched North Carolina hand Duke its first and only loss of the season, a double-overtime thriller at Cameron. They watched SportsCenter for the recap, and waited and waited for some highlights from the other campus in Durham. It finally came, and it was worth the wait. They had spliced together a video of all 11 three-point shots, and there was Sooley gunning from all over the court as the host narrated the assault. A brief clip showed the cheerleaders and the crowd as “Sooley! Sooley! Sooley! ” shook the building.

“A star is born, ” declared the host. Samuel loved it. Murray was proud of his friend, but he was also beginning to worry.

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