Sooley(19)

For the early game at Rollins, they took the floor in their snazzy NBA-style warm-ups and refused to look at the other end of the court. There, the boys from South Sudan were hamming it up in their simple, phys-ed-style uniforms, unimpressed with Gold’s greatness, unbowed by their four easy wins.

Gold had played the day before. Ecko’s team had not, and he decided to go with tempo and try to run them into the ground. He pressed full-court and wanted shots early in the clock. It worked beautifully in the first period as Samuel and Abraham Bol forced three turnovers and Riak Kuol blocked two shots down low.

All five Gold starters were rising high school seniors. Four had committed to big schools. Though they were well coached, they were, of course, individual stars, and this often led to some low-percentage circus shots. Feeling the pressure, their guards missed four straight from downtown, and their fiery coach used his only time-out for a tongue-lashing.



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On the other side of the world, the village of Lotta was packed around the television hanging below the cross of Our Lady’s Chapel and roared with every good play.

When Samuel hit his first, and only, three-pointer, his people screamed, yelled, gave glory to God, jumped up and down, and pounded Ayak on the shoulders. There were some chairs scattered about but no one could sit.



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·?·?·

South Sudan led by 11 at the end of the first period. Ecko put in C Squad, his best in his opinion, with Dak Marial and Quinton Majok at the forwards. Gold went with a smaller lineup and fresher legs, and the coach slowed down the game. The highlight reel shooting stopped and its offense began to click. After the second period South Sudan was up by 9.

The third period belonged to Benjie Boone, a 6'5" shooting guard who had committed to play at Kentucky but was rumored to be reconsidering and thinking about the NBA draft. He hit three straight bombs and tied the score. There were six lead changes down the stretch as both teams fought and clawed. Gold kept substituting. Ecko did not. He had promised his players equal time on the court and would stick to his word regardless of the score. He rotated Samuel and Bol at the point, but only because he had to. Alek Garang was suited up but couldn’t play.

And he was greatly missed. Neither Samuel nor Bol could buy a basket late in the game, and with no threat outside, the defense smothered Dak Marial and Quinton Majok in the paint. Gold pulled away and won by six.

In the locker room, Ecko took responsibility for the loss, said he’d been outcoached and had decided to try something different. After five games his goal of equal playing time wasn’t working and he and Frankie would start substituting more. More hustle, scoring, and defense would mean more playing time.

The boys were crushed and understood what Ecko was saying. He reminded them that last year’s team lost two games but qualified for the national showcase, then almost won it. They were still alive with two games to go but they could not afford another loss.

Samuel stood and said, “Say, Coach. We got the rest of the day. How about we find a high school gym and have a good practice?”

Ecko replied, “I don’t know. You play tomorrow.”

“Come on, Coach,” said Dak Marial, the unofficial captain. Others chimed in and the request quickly became unanimous.



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·?·?·

In Lotta, the villagers were much quieter as they drifted away from the church and returned home. The loss stung but the thrill of seeing Samuel playing in America had not dissipated. Tomorrow’s game would not begin until 10 p.m. their time, and everyone would be back at the church to watch their hero.



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Late Sunday night, after the players were in their rooms and all lights were off, Ecko went down to the hotel bar and met Lonnie Britt for a beer. They had shared many in their younger days when coaching at Northern Iowa and they treasured these little reunions. In a dark corner they replayed the day’s game, with Lonnie full of wisdom about what his friend did wrong.

Ecko listened and agreed with most of the criticism. He would have done the same if Lonnie had lost.

Lonnie said, “But you’re not supposed to beat those guys, Ecko. They’re cherry-picked and treated like pros. They dressed out twelve today. Twelve seventeen-year-old kids who are still in high school and who’ll sign with big schools. It’s a pretty amazing program. A lot of talent.”

“We should’ve beat them,” Ecko said, sipping his beer. “I’m worried about advancing. My guys are not ready to go home.”

“You’ll win the next two.”

“Don’t say that.”

“You know the greatest play I saw today?” Lonnie asked with a smile.

“The block?”

“The block. That kid came out of nowhere and looked eight feet tall.”

“I told you.”

With four minutes to go and South Sudan up by one, Benjie Boone bounced off a screen at the top of the key and pulled up wide open from 25 feet. Samuel, who was guarding him, was nowhere to be seen, until the last possible second. Boone, smooth as silk, lifted high with his perfect and uncontested jump shot. Samuel launched himself from the free throw line and slapped the ball hard just as it left Boone’s right hand. The ball landed in the third row of seats.