Джон Гришэм - Sooley

Maryland patiently worked its offense and hit a three. When Sooley got the ball at mid-court he dribbled twice, head faked, got Brazeale in the air, and rushed into the paint. As the defense collapsed, he rifled a behind-the-back pass to Mitch Rocker who was wide open from 20 feet. He missed and Maryland slowly brought the ball up. Both teams cooled off, trading misses and short baskets. With two minutes to go, Maryland began pressing and forced two turnovers. The Terps finished in a rush and at half-time trailed by only four, 41–37. Sooley had 24 points and was 5-for-10 from long range. More important, Brazeale had three fouls. During the break, Coach Britt drew up two plays designed to draw the fourth foul. At that point, Sooley could go wild.

Maryland missed its first shot of the second half. Mitch set the offense and bounced a pass to Sooley, who was standing in the mid-court circle. He waved his teammates to the right side, as if no one else was on the court but him and Mr. Brazeale. He faked a shot, and when Brazeale didn’t take it, he launched from 32 feet and drained it. Maryland killed the clock and hit a short jumper. Sooley set up at the free throw line with Brazeale stuck to him like glue. At 15 seconds, he spun around and took his man through three hard screens as he sprinted to a corner. Brazeale fought through the screens but lost a second. When Sooley went up from 22 feet, Brazeale was airborne and fell into him for his fourth foul. For once, the play worked exactly as Coach Britt had drawn it up on the board. Sooley hit two of three free throws.

With Brazeale on the bench, Maryland put two men on Sooley, and this delighted him. Somebody else had to be open, and Murray, perhaps the weakest shooter on the team, found the hot hand. When he hit two straight threes Central was up by 52–39 and Maryland called time.

Each trip down the floor became another adventure in Sooleymania. The entire defense watched him. When he couldn’t get the ball, Mitch worked it low for easy buckets by Melvin Montgomery and Roy Tice. When Sooley got the ball, usually around mid-court, he dazzled his defenders with lightning-fast dribbles and either launched long fade-away jumpers or slashed to the basket where he drew fouls or finished with highlight-reel dunks or dished off to his teammates.

At 6:02, Brazeale reentered the game during a TV time-out. His team was down 16, 68–52, and the crowd was yelling for more.

As loud as it was, the noise inside the State Farm Arena paled in comparison to the constant roar of the masses on the outskirts of Rhino Camp South. Every long shot made by young Samuel sent his people into unrestrained delirium. Beatrice, James, and Chol were treated like royalty and nearly mobbed with each magnificent play.

Up 20, 76–56, Sooley came out for a breather and Maryland put on its inevitable last run. The Terps scored eight straight and Coach Britt called time at 3:35 to settle down his team. Sooley reentered and promptly missed a long one. Maryland did the same. Mitch was called for traveling and Maryland kicked one out of bounds. Both teams took a deep breath and braced for the last two minutes. Mitch called the same triple screen to free Sooley, and when he hit from 28 feet, Maryland was on the ropes again. Roy Tice blocked a shot and the ball landed in Murray’s hands. He flung a high, long pass downcourt where Sooley streaked all alone, nonchalantly took in the ball, and stuffed it. Maryland inbounded with a long pass that caught the Eagles off-guard and led to an easy layup. The Terps swarmed the inbound pass but Mitch cleared the press with a long pass of his own to the other end where Sooley was open. He could have killed some clock, or waited to be fouled, or passed across court to avoid a foul, but instead he instinctively went up from 29 feet and drained it.

Coach Britt chose not to back off and the Eagles pressed relentlessly. Maryland barely cleared mid-court in 10 seconds and quickly threw up a brick. Roy Tice grabbed the rebound and was fouled. He made both free throws and the game was over.

When the bus rolled onto the Central campus late Sunday afternoon, the students were waiting. They lined the streets, cheering wildly, waving signs, throwing confetti. When the bus stopped in front of The Nest, barricades protected the players and coaches as they stepped off and soaked in the moment. Half a dozen news vans were parked haphazardly to one side and there were cameras everywhere. Inside, the place was packed and rocking as 4,000 students and fans filled the stands and covered the floor, all waiting for a glimpse of the school’s first Final Four heroes. When Mitch led them through the tunnel and into the mob, the familiar chant of “Sooley! Sooley! Sooley!” shook the old gym.

For the second straight Monday morning Lonnie found himself in the President’s office, along with the AD. The President, always a busy man, had canceled all his important meetings. Everything else could wait.

They reveled in their success and replayed the prior weekend’s games. They talked about the trip to Phoenix, travel plans, tickets, and so on, delightful details they never dreamed they would have the chance to discuss.

Lonnie surprised them when he said, “Look, I really want to get the team out of town and as soon as possible. The distractions are already overwhelming. I’ve stopped answering my phone and can’t even look at my emails. Everybody wants a piece and Sooley is the main attraction. We’ve got to protect the kid.”

“You want to leave now?” the President asked, feigning disapproval but knowing damned well where this was headed.

“Today. Forget classes this week. Don’t think for a minute that these kids will be able to study. Hell, they can’t even go to class. We need to go hide somewhere to practice and get away from this craziness.”

“You have someplace in mind?” asked the AD.

“Yes. I have a buddy who coaches at Northern Arizona in Flagstaff, about two hours north of Phoenix. I talked to him last night and he’s on board. He’ll arrange hotel rooms under his name and give us his gym for the week. We cannot practice here. It’s impossible.”

The President offered the standard frown and asked, “And miss an entire week of classes?”

“Absolutely. It’s imperative. Get the deans on board, talk to their professors, and I’ll make sure they keep up online. They’ll have plenty of time when we’re not in practice. I’ll make it work.”

All three knew the score. Lonnie’s team had just collected another $2 million for the school’s athletic programs and he would get whatever he wanted.

The President shrugged as he caved.

The AD said, “I assume you’ll want an airplane this time.”

Lonnie laughed and said, “Well, Sooley asked about taking a bus and I thought the guys might choke him.”

“I’ll bet they don’t,” the President said.

Lonnie said, “No. That won’t happen. They are being extremely protective.”

“Where is he?”

“In Ida Walker’s basement. She’s standing guard but she’s a bit rattled. Word’s out and there were people knocking on her door last night.”

The AD said, “Let’s get ’em out of here.”

The President said, “Agreed. You have the university’s full support, in every way.”

“Thank you.”

The AD said, “And you do prefer to fly?”

“Yes.”

When the team boarded the bus Monday afternoon, not a single player knew where they were going. They had been told what to wear and what to pack, and they watched with amusement as the driver followed the signs to the Raleigh-Durham airport. At the general aviation terminal, they got out and were directed to a private charter waiting on the tarmac. They grew more excited as they took their seats. Mitch Rocker finally asked, loudly, “Say, Coach, where we going?”