CHAPTER 50

The Walkers—Ida, Ernie, Jordan, and Brady—sat ten rows behind the bench, in the heart of the Central faithful. Like most of the fans present, they had never watched a basketball game with 75, 000 others in such an enormous venue. Ernie didn’t like it at all. The court was too far away. Everything was too far away. He could barely hear the band. Ida finally told him to shut up and enjoy the moment.

On the other side of the world, Beatrice and her boys were once again led by smiling soldiers to the front of the pack and given seats of honor. Masses of humanity squeezed closer to the trailer and its two large screens. Even those who could barely see were happy to stand shoulder to shoulder and listen to the American announcers set the stage.

It was late on a Saturday night, with a full moon above. Tomorrow was Sunday, just another day to survive until Monday.

· · ·

Being introduced in such a spectacle was intimidating enough. Being introduced as thousands chanted “Sooley! Sooley! Sooley! ” was overwhelming, but he managed to appear loose and kept smiling at everything. Central was clearly the crowd’s favorite.

The starters met at mid-court and shook hands, in a variety of ways. Villanova’s center, Wade Lister, was seven feet tall and could jump. He had controlled every tip of the season and Sooley was no match. When he got pinched in a ball screen, Darrell Whitley calmly drained a 20-footer, and the Wildcats struck first and fast.

Everyone watching the game knew what was coming. Sooley posted low, then busted through the lane with Whitley fighting off screens. Murray bounced a perfect pass that Sooley took on the way up from 30 feet. When the ball swished the net, the crowd, half a second behind because of the distance, exploded. Nova missed from the arc, the rebound went long, and Mitch Rocker took it on a fast break. As the lane closed he whipped a gorgeous pass behind his back and Sooley was in the air again with his second 30-footer.

He looked unstoppable, but, of course, he was not. In the college game, it’s rare for a gunner to hit 40 percent from long range. No one has ever hit 50 percent for a season.

After 19 games, Sooley was at 46 percent. For the tournament, he was at 51 percent, a remarkable number that was not sustainable. It was time for a drought, and its timing could not have been worse. He missed his next two attempts and the crowd settled down. Whitley was quick and fearless on defense and slapped one ball out of bounds. When Sooley tried to drive, he lowered his shoulder a bit too much and drew the charge. He missed again from downtown and the offense sputtered. At the first time-out, Nova was up 14–6.

Feeling the pressure, Sooley missed a bad shot from 20 feet and Darrell Whitley hit a quick three on the other end. Murray missed, then Mitch followed with another miss. The Eagles couldn’t buy a bucket and their star was ice cold. Behind 22–6, Lonnie called time-out. The crowd was silent. Had the clock finally struck twelve for Cinderella?

For the last eight minutes of the half, Central played some of its worst basketball of the season. Or, perhaps the difference in talent became obvious. Villanova played a tight, team defense and was patient on the other end, rarely taking a low-percentage shot. With its scorer neutralized, Central began to panic on offense and committed turnover after turnover. With five seconds to go, Sooley finally hit another three to cut the lead to 41–24. He had 11 points for the half but hit only 3 of 10 from behind the arc.

The Eagles’ locker room was frustrated, tense, and frightened. Frustration at the sloppy play. Fear that the magical run was finally coming to an end. Was this their destiny? To capture the headlines with a miracle run behind a former redshirt who seemed invincible, only to flame out at the end when the competition became too much? There were appeals from Mitch Rocker and Roy Tice, both seniors. Coach Grinnell gave an inspiring speech. Coach Britt thought a 2-3 zone might work. However, everyone knew the truth. If Sooley wasn’t hitting from downtown, they had no chance.

He drew his third foul at 18: 40 on a close call that upset Lonnie, who wasn’t about to pull him out. He told him to back off and by all means avoid another foul. Sooley immediately hit a three, then another, and the stadium came to life. But Nova was too well-coached and experienced to panic. It ran its offense, double-teamed Sooley when necessary on defense, and extended its lead. At 9: 25, the score was 58–39 and a last-minute push by Central looked unlikely. Nova, with a much deeper bench, subbed freely and was wearing down the Eagles on defense. A minute later, Mitch Rocker limped off the court with a high ankle sprain. Nova immediately pressed full-court and Murray struggled to handle it. Sooley helped break the press and was open from 35 feet. It was a bad miss on a shot he should not have attempted and showed how desperate the Eagles were. Through nothing but determination, they stayed within 20 points but could get no closer. At 2: 44, and needing a miracle, Sooley got open from 25 feet. If the ball went through the rim, another wild streak might be in the works. Think the Duke game—five threes in 58 seconds. When it rattled out, Nova cleared and walked the ball up court ahead 71–50. Central pressed at mid-court but Nova handled it easily. A dunk put the game out of reach.

· · ·

Sooley wasn’t much for tears. He had shed buckets of them in the past year, but for real losses, real tragedies. Crying after a basketball game cheapened the tears he had shed for his family.

He and the Eagles hung around the court and congratulated the Wildcats, who were great sportsmen and said all the right things. Sooley did a quick interview courtside with CBS and managed his trademark smile. He blamed himself for the loss and said he had not played well, but it had been a wonderful run for him and his underdog buddies, and they were proud of what they had accomplished. They held their heads high. They had been beaten by a better team.

When they were finally together in the locker room and the doors were shut, Lonnie smiled at his players and said, “Ain’t nobody crying in this locker room, you hear me? Just think back to last September when we started practice. Not a single one of us, in our wildest dreams, could imagine we’d be here right now. We accomplished something that’s never been done before. You made history, men, and that can never be taken away from you. I love you. Your coaches love you. Let’s savor the moment and keep our heads up. ”

· · ·

They managed to sit through the first half of Oregon versus Kansas, but they’d had enough basketball for one day. Their season was over and they really didn’t care who played who for the title on Monday night. Mitch, taped up and limping, asked Coach Britt if they could leave. The bus took them to a fancy Phoenix steakhouse where a private room had been reserved. Central’s President and his wife were there, along with the AD and some other important people. The coaches’ wives joined the party. As Sooley was finding a seat, Ecko Lam walked through the door and hugged him. They sat together at a table with Murray and Dmitri and talked about the game.

Sooley scored 22, almost 20 below his tournament average. There was no doubt that had he been hitting the game would have changed dramatically. He made only 5 of 16 attempts from three-point range. He turned the ball over four times. He had no blocks and only six rebounds. It was a subpar performance on every level and he had no explanation for it. The setting was intimidating at first, but then every other player had the same jitters. They were playing a good team, but they had already beaten several others.

There was no excuse, no explanation. Just a bad night.

Ecko tried to lighten the mood with “You know, it was almost a year ago when I first met you in Juba, at the tryouts. Hard to believe, isn’t it? ”

Sooley smiled and nodded along.

Ecko looked at Murray and said, “He was only six-two, wasn’t too skinny, could jump to the moon but couldn’t hit a layup. ”

Murray said, “Oh, don’t worry, Coach. He’s told us how great he was back in Africa. ”

“But he wasn’t. He was the last person chosen on our summer team. Did you ever know that, Samuel? ”

“No. You never told me. ”

“I had two assistant coaches at the tryouts and neither of them wanted to pick you. Our last slot almost went to Riak Kuol, that six-ten kid from Upper Nile, remember him? ”

“Sure. I was convinced he would make the team. ”

“Why’d you pick Sooley? ” Dmitri asked.

“I don’t know. He was pretty rough around the edges, like many of the African kids. Early one morning during the tryouts I found him in the gym shooting all alone. It was hot and he was soaked, but I could tell he loved what he was doing. Just firing away, jogging after the ball, shooting again. He could do it for hours. Plus, I knew his mother is a tall woman and that he would probably grow. I had no idea he’d spike six inches in a year, no one saw that coming. I rolled the dice, glad I did. Then I convinced Lonnie to roll ’em again, and here we are. ”

“Coach Britt didn’t want to sign him? ” Dmitri asked.

“Well, you know Coach Britt. He and I go way, way back and we’ve been close friends for a long time. The story he likes to tell now is that he saw Samuel in Orlando at the tournament and knew immediately that the kid had a lot of potential. Trouble with that story is that there were a hundred other coaches watching and no one saw the talent. No one else made an offer. When Central suddenly had an extra scholarship, I asked Coach Britt to take a chance. To his credit, he did. ”

· · ·

By late Sunday morning, the players were tired of the hotel. They held a team meeting and discussed their plans with their coaches. They could certainly hang around and watch the final game Monday night, then fly back Tuesday morning.

But they wanted to go home.

| Part Three |

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