Джон Гришэм - Sooley

All fifteen players dreamed of the NBA, but at that moment each one knew that this was his future.

The guide took them to the top level, to the cheap seats, and from way up there the court did indeed look far away. There were 20,000 seats in the arena and Samuel knew that the Magic had been averaging about 17,000 per home game, so he figured many of these seats had not been used that much. However, he did not ask the guide for any figures. That might have been perceived as unkind.

Ecko insisted on perfect manners and behavior off the court. They were representing their people and others were quick to judge. Nothing but politeness, lots of smiles, and humility. They were lucky to be there and should show their gratitude at every chance.

They were excited to return to the locker room. The dining table was prepared for them with box lunches and soft drinks, and they were eating and chatting excitedly when, suddenly, everything went silent.

The great Niollo walked into the room. The boys froze. All food and drink were forgotten. Wide-eyed, slack-jawed, stunned, they gawked at him and tried to decide if he was really there. Ecko, an old friend, embraced him and introduced Frankie, then said to the team, “Gentlemen, Niollo has driven up from Miami to watch you play.”

Niollo smiled and said warmly, “Welcome to Florida, my brethren, and greetings from Miami. I’m sure you feel right at home here because it’s almost as hot as South Sudan.” They laughed nervously. Niollo! The greatest of all players from their country.

He continued, “As you know, I was born in Wau, but left the country when I was a kid and went to the U.K. with my family.”

They had his bio memorized. As he talked, reality slowly settled in. They knew he had just finished another losing season with the Heat, his fourth team, after spending his first eight seasons with Boston. Things were not going well in Miami and he was expected to move on. He was now thirty years old and at his peak, still great and always a legend back home.

Ecko thanked him for dropping by and said, “What Niollo would never brag about is that he has won both the NBA Sportsmanship Award and the Citizenship Award. He supports many charities and youth sports programs in our country, and he is responsible for you being here. Thank you, Niollo.”

Niollo smiled and tried to deflect any more attention. Instead, he said, “Thanks. Can I have a sandwich?” He sat at the table, surrounded by the starstruck kids, and between bites talked to them for half an hour. When it was time to go, a photographer with the Magic took a hundred photos and promised to deliver them later in the day.

Niollo walked with them out of the locker room, onto the court, and into the prime seats where they watched the U.K. beat Brazil in the first game. In the second one, with Niollo cheering them on, they played their brand of inspired basketball and easily manhandled a bunch of Ukrainians, 73–43, with half the team getting double figures. Samuel did not, but was happy he hit three of six from long range.

Game Four: South Sudan versus Brazil

On the front page of its sports section, the Orlando Sentinel ran a large photo of Niollo sitting in the seats surrounded by his boys from South Sudan. That, plus the 30-point thrashing of a good Ukrainian team, brought more attention to Ecko and his players. When they tipped off against the Brazilians, there were a few more spectators in the stands at UCF. And, more important, more scouts, or at least that’s what Samuel thought he saw during pregame warm-ups.

He realized he preferred the college court over the NBA arena. The seats, though empty, were closer, and the rims and backboards didn’t look as far away. Then he laughed at himself and remembered the dirt and mud courts where he came from.

He didn’t start against Brazil. His squad for the game was B and Ecko planned for them to play the third period. However, bad luck struck just seconds after the opening tip when Alek Garang went down with a pulled hamstring and limped off the court. Trainers from UCF took him to the dressing room and sent for the team doctor. Ecko yelled for Samuel to get in the game at the two — shooting guard. Abraham Bol had the point, Samuel’s usual spot, and the offense was disoriented and sputtered badly. South Sudan trailed by 10 after the first period. Squad C, with Dak Marial hammering inside, cut the deficit in half, and after two the score was 41–36.

In the third period, Samuel returned to the court at the point and the offense found its rhythm, especially when Jimmie Abaloy got hot from the arc. He loosened up the defense and Samuel began feeding the ball inside to Quinton Majok. After a 14–2 run the Brazilians used their only time-out in an attempt to regroup and cool things off. It didn’t work. Samuel hit two consecutive threes and South Sudan was up by 13. Brazil had more inside height and heft than any team in the tournament and kept going low for easier buckets. That didn’t work either. Time and again, their shots were blocked, swatted away, and slapped into the stands by the kids who could seemingly spring over the backboard.

With two minutes to go, Ecko noticed their big man, Daniel Abdul-Gaber, trailing a play. He was winded and needed a break. Ecko used his only time-out and asked Daniel if he wanted to come out. On this team, the answer was always no.

“Good,” Ecko said. “Look at me. We’re up by fourteen and we got the game. Let’s win by twenty. These guys are cocky and think they’re good. Right now we’re handing them their asses, but I want more. Two minutes to play and I want nonstop balls to the wall, okay? Can you do it?”

All five smiled, grabbed hands, and yelled, “Let’s go.”

Showing no mercy while still playing with their usual exuberance — high fives, chest bumps, low fives, shouts of encouragement, even laughter — they ran the Brazilians out of the gym and won by 24.

After four straight games it was time for a break. On Saturday, July 18, Ecko and Frankie filled the two vans and took the players back to La-La Land, this time to Epcot. They deposited them at the gate with the same instructions and warnings, gave them enough cash to enjoy themselves, said they would be back promptly at six, and said goodbye. The boys were almost as excited as they were before a game.

Ecko and Frankie returned to UCF and went to the coaches’ suite for a long day of private, unscheduled meetings with scouts. It was the networking game, the match-making, the convincing, evaluating, and promising routines that were part of their job. Because South Sudan was so far away and so far off the radar, and because its competitive leagues were still primitive compared to most of the world’s, especially those of the U.S., U.K., and Europe, its coaches felt compelled to lobby harder for their players.

An assistant from Ohio State asked about Alek Garang’s hamstring. As expected, Alek was getting his share of interest, and his injury was generating plenty of gossip. Ecko repeated what the doctor had said: It wasn’t a severe pull but he would need to sit out a few games. An assistant from Memphis wanted to talk about Riak Kuol and worried that he needed another year of high school play, in the U.S. The head coach from Lehigh was impressed with Quinton Majok. Ecko thought the kid could play at a higher level and said so. The head coach from Overland, a well-known New Jersey prep school that was nothing but a basketball factory, wanted to talk about Abraham Bol, and Ecko gave him plenty of time. However, he would never advise one of his players to enroll there. An assistant from Eastern Illinois was a former teammate at Kent State and wanted Ecko’s inside scoop on Awino Leyano. Ecko thought it was a good match, but he knew that his old pal had one more year on a contract that would not be renewed.