Sooley(16)

After a 13-point win over Italy, the players showered and watched the next game. Each took up at least two seats and they enjoyed popcorn and sodas, just like real fans. Four players from the U.K. stopped by and said hello, and soon they were making friends. Two of the Italians saw the crowd and came over. One had signed with Texas Tech, the other committed to Central Michigan, and their English was quite good.

An assistant coach in an Auburn shirt appeared and said hello to Jimmie Abaloy. They stepped away, walked to an upper level and sat in a section all alone. They talked and laughed for a while. Samuel watched them with great envy.

So, that’s how it happens.





Game Three: South Sudan versus Ukraine


It was Thursday, July 16, the day the players would remember because all eight teams would play in four straight games at the Amway Center, the NBA palace that was home to the Magic. Ecko and his team arrived early and were given a tour of the cavernous arena. They walked around the empty court and soaked in the incredible atmosphere of basketball heaven. Samuel tried hard to convince himself that he was standing on the same wood where LeBron had played, and Kobe, Shaq, Niollo, and Steph Curry. Their guide led them off the court, through a tunnel, and they stopped at a wide door with the words “Magic Locker Room” painted in the team’s colors. She opened the door and they stepped inside for the highlight of every tour. The locker room was hard to grasp—wide and round, wood-paneled with thick, luxurious blue and silver carpet. There were fifteen lockers in a semicircle, each wide and deep enough to hold a small vehicle. There were luxury recliners, large television screens, anything a player could really want. Down the hall was a team room, a television room, a cafeteria, a training room, a weight room, a media room, and a shower with enough private stalls to accommodate several teams of sweaty players. And there were other rooms that they didn’t have enough time to explore.

After the locker room, they rode an escalator to the second level and strolled along an empty concourse that looped around the entire court. They stopped at the luxury suites, one with an open door, and were invited to take a look from the corporate view. A hostess fixed them sodas and offered snacks and they were enjoying the fine seating when a vice president popped in and said hello. He welcomed them to the home of the Magic, and to Orlando, and to America, and said he was looking forward to the afternoon’s games. It was almost noon and he asked if they’d had lunch. Ecko said they had not, and the VP spoke to his assistant and arranged lunch back in the locker room, in the players’ cafeteria. He told them to finish their tour and he’d meet them down there in half an hour.

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.