Джон Гришэм - Sooley

Sooley had his earbuds in and pretended not to hear. His eyes were closed as if in deep meditation. Others began griping about the bus ride, but they were too excited to really care.

Coach Britt got their attention when he ran an edited game film of Providence thrashing a good Butler team in the second round. And he reminded them that, once again, they were on the low end of a six-point spread.

Still, no respect.

The special delivery was loaded into the back of a Ugandan army troop carrier. It was guarded by a couple of soldiers and watched by two army technicians. Coach Kymm rode shotgun with the driver as they left the Entebbe airport in the early morning. He had hoped to fly the shipment on a small cargo plane, like the one he and Ecko Lam had hitchhiked on back in early December, but there wasn’t enough room. Food and medicine took priority over everything else, and on this trip he was delivering nothing but entertainment, courtesy of a wealthy Ugandan beer magnate who loved basketball and sponsored Kymm’s national teams.

The seven-hour drive on gravel roads actually took nine, and when they rolled into Rhino Camp South it was too late to set up. They had dinner and slept in an army barracks nearby. Early Thursday morning, the technicians scouted locations and found the best spot on a rise not far from the new school. A flat trailer was moved into position, and the technicians and soldiers began unpacking the screens. There were two of them, positioned on opposite ends of the trailer with the generator, transmitter, antenna, and miles of wires and cables between them. Brand-new 150-inch Samsung 8K flat screens, the largest to be found anywhere in that corner of Africa. Coach Kymm spent the day under a shade tree, watching the project unfold, and occasionally reading a paperback. He tried to call Ecko in Atlanta but there was no cell service.

Late Wednesday night, after the managers reported that all players were accounted for, Lonnie eased out of his room and went to the hotel bar where Ecko was waiting in a corner. So far, the team’s hiding place in an Athens Holiday Inn had not been discovered by the media. Ecko had watched the team practice at the University of Georgia and was staying at the hotel.

They ordered beers and talked about the practice, Providence, a game plan. Lonnie laughed and said, “Actually, when you’re a one-man team the game plan is pretty simple.”

“What happens when he goes cold?”

“We don’t score and they run us out of the gym. I just wish that for one game someone else would get hot and score twenty. Mitch or Murray, maybe even Dmitri from the corner. Take the pressure off Sooley and soften up the defense.”

“They’re not great shooters.”

“Tell me about it. And the more he scores the more the others rely on him. They’re turning down good looks to get him the ball.”

“I talked to him for a long time this afternoon in his room and he seems to be handling it well. You’re smart to keep him away from the media. It’s a circus.”

“Have you seen the cover of Sports Illustrated ? Just came out online.”

“No. What is it?”

“A photo of the kid soaring through the air, windmill dunking against Duke, elbow about three feet above the rim, with the caption — ‘Sooleymania.’ ”

“Clever. I know you’re worried about him, but this is really pretty cool. He’s in a good spot and he knows it. Nothing has gone to his head. Yet.”

“His teammates are smothering him, watching everything closely. A great bunch of kids, Ecko. I love these guys.”

“You’ll love them even more if they win the next two and take you to the Final Four.” They laughed and sipped and looked around. The bar was practically empty.

Lonnie asked, “What’s gonna happen to Sooley, Ecko? You talk to more scouts than I do. I’m too focused on the next game and don’t have time to think past it.”

“Remember Frankie Moka, my summer assistant?”

Lonnie nodded and said, “Sure.”

“He’s a scout for the Nuggets, says the kid will likely go late in the first round. The upside is obvious, with the added potential of more growth and maturity. The downside is the unknown. Is he a flash in the pan? Red hot for fifteen games, then he’s gone? It’s happened before. What the scouts want to see is a bad game. No one hits fifty percent from behind the arc, so what happens when he doesn’t hit and stinks it up?”

“Please, not now.”

“I know. I’m just saying he doesn’t have the track record of the other one-and-dones. Those four at Duke were on the radar when they were fifteen years old. The other top prospects have at least two full years in college. Not Sooley. So, that’s a concern, but not much. The scouts are as enamored as everyone else.”

Lonnie smiled and took a sip. “Have I said thanks for making me offer him a scholarship?”

“You have, and you are welcome. Sometimes we get lucky. You know, it’s hard to believe that when I met him a year ago he was six-two, weighed a buck seventy, and had the ugliest jump shot in South Sudan.”

“He’s a freak, Ecko, plain and simple. We measured him last week. Six-eight now, two-thirty. All he wants to do is shoot baskets and lift weights.”

“Girls?”

“I don’t get involved but I’m sure he’s doing okay.”

“Have you talked to him about the draft, and agents and all that?”

“No, not yet. I know the runners are out. It’s part of the business. At least three have approached Murray. I’ve lectured the team in front of Sooley and talked to the seniors when he’s not around. They try to protect him, but you know how it works. As soon as the tournament is over, he’s fair game and can talk to an agent. Once that starts, he’s gone. Nobody can turn down the money.”

Ecko agreed. “And he worships Niollo, who turned pro at nineteen after only one year at Syracuse. Of course, Niollo played competitive high school ball here in the States and was even an All-American. Trivia: Who was the only high school prospect ranked ahead of Niollo?”

“LeBron.”

“LeBron. And he didn’t go to college.”

“What does Sooley want?”

“We talked about his family this afternoon. That’s all he cares about right now. He’s eternally grateful to you and Central and his teammates, but when he’s off the court he’s thinking about his mother and brothers. I told him that a coaching buddy of mine in Uganda has pulled some strings with the government and they’re setting up some big flat screens to watch the game in the refugee camp. Can you imagine? Sooley’s mother and brothers watching him play. The kid had tears in his eyes when I told him.”

“That’s amazing. And you got it done?”

“Sure. It’s nothing. You ask what he wants. If money will help get his family over here, then he’ll take the money. If earning a degree in four years and becoming a U.S. citizen will make it happen faster, then that’s what he wants.”

“He’ll take the money.”

“Probably.”

“He trusts you, Ecko. Do you know a good agent?”

“I’d rather not get involved. At that point, Sooley will enter a different world and any advice from me would not be valuable. He’s a smart kid and he’ll figure it out. Hopefully.”

When Samuel stepped into the mid-court circle for the tip, he took a second to soak in the enormity of Atlanta’s State Farm Arena, home of the Hawks. Under one backboard a noisy contingent from Central chanted his name while the rest of the 18,000-plus settled into their seats. As always, he reminded himself of where he came from, and how far he had traveled. A year ago he was playing on dirt courts.

He nodded to the center for Providence, a gangly boy with heavy feet, and slapped the ball back to Mitch Rocker, who took his time and quickly noticed that there were two Friars sticking to their star. The other three were spread across the lane in what appeared to be a zone of some sorts. Mitch drove to the free throw line and kicked out to Dmitri, who missed an easy 20-footer. More misses soon followed, and the double-team on Sooley worked beautifully, as long as no one else could score. Central was off to a dismal start, one that turned ugly when the Friars’ leading scorer hit his second three to make the score 12–2. At the first TV time-out, the lead was 20, 26–6, and Sooley had yet to score. The crowd was quiet, but there was a buzzing as if the fans were wondering about all the hype.