Джон Гришэм - Sooley

Sooley spent most of the second half at the free throw line, calmly making 10-of-12. He finished the game with 39, half the team’s total, and the third most in school history. Howard, humbled, limped home with a 12-point loss.

Late that night in their dorm room, Sooley and Murray had a delightful time on social media. The Central faithful were lighting it up. Girls were calling and leaving all manner of messages. Sooley’s phone number was out there and the texts poured in by the dozens.

On Friday, February 12, the Eagles missed classes and rode the bus five hours to Baltimore. At one o’clock the following day, they defeated Coppin State by 18 points. Sooley, still coming off the bench but playing 29 minutes, scored 31 and blocked four shots. They spent two more nights in Baltimore, and on Monday beat Morgan State by 15 in a wild shootout. The Eagles put up 98 points, 36 by Sooley. Back home the following Saturday, they beat South Carolina State by 14 in front of a standing-room-only crowd. The win, their seventh straight, evened their record at 13–13. Though there was now talk of playing in March, they were well aware that their slow start would be hard to overcome.

Coach Britt gave them Sunday off but wanted them to report to the gym anyway. The team doctor had ordered routine physicals. Sooley weighed in at 227 and measured six feet seven and a half, still growing. The team’s press guide, printed the previous November, listed him at 6'6", 210 pounds.

The next day Murray showed him how to change his phone number.

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.