With two minutes to go, Ecko noticed their big man, Daniel Abdul-Gaber, trailing a play. He was winded and needed a break. Ecko used his only time-out and asked Daniel if he wanted to come out. On this team, the answer was always no.
“Good,” Ecko said. “Look at me. We’re up by fourteen and we got the game. Let’s win by twenty. These guys are cocky and think they’re good. Right now we’re handing them their asses, but I want more. Two minutes to play and I want nonstop balls to the wall, okay? Can you do it?”
All five smiled, grabbed hands, and yelled, “Let’s go.”
Showing no mercy while still playing with their usual exuberance—high fives, chest bumps, low fives, shouts of encouragement, even laughter—they ran the Brazilians out of the gym and won by 24.
CHAPTER 11
After four straight games it was time for a break. On Saturday, July 18, Ecko and Frankie filled the two vans and took the players back to La-La Land, this time to Epcot. They deposited them at the gate with the same instructions and warnings, gave them enough cash to enjoy themselves, said they would be back promptly at six, and said goodbye. The boys were almost as excited as they were before a game.
Ecko and Frankie returned to UCF and went to the coaches’ suite for a long day of private, unscheduled meetings with scouts. It was the networking game, the match-making, the convincing, evaluating, and promising routines that were part of their job. Because South Sudan was so far away and so far off the radar, and because its competitive leagues were still primitive compared to most of the world’s, especially those of the U.S., U.K., and Europe, its coaches felt compelled to lobby harder for their players.
An assistant from Ohio State asked about Alek Garang’s hamstring. As expected, Alek was getting his share of interest, and his injury was generating plenty of gossip. Ecko repeated what the doctor had said: It wasn’t a severe pull but he would need to sit out a few games. An assistant from Memphis wanted to talk about Riak Kuol and worried that he needed another year of high school play, in the U.S. The head coach from Lehigh was impressed with Quinton Majok. Ecko thought the kid could play at a higher level and said so. The head coach from Overland, a well-known New Jersey prep school that was nothing but a basketball factory, wanted to talk about Abraham Bol, and Ecko gave him plenty of time. However, he would never advise one of his players to enroll there. An assistant from Eastern Illinois was a former teammate at Kent State and wanted Ecko’s inside scoop on Awino Leyano. Ecko thought it was a good match, but he knew that his old pal had one more year on a contract that would not be renewed.
And so the day went. Greetings from an old friend or a new acquaintance, followed by a private chat as they stepped outside the suite and walked around the arena. All conversations were private, all scouts careful not to say something that might be heard by another. Ecko played it straight and was honest about each of his players and their potential. It was counterproductive to exaggerate someone’s talent, or brag about his work ethic, or pass along inside information about the kid and his family. The proof was on the court for everyone to see. Three of his players were drawing no interest, and he understood why. They would never play in the U.S.
After four games, the players had been watched by hundreds of college and high school scouts, and as the tournament progressed the interest in the best ones intensified.
After lunch, in the suite, the head coach at North Carolina Central appeared and got a bear hug from Ecko. His name was Lonnie Britt and he had played four years at Toledo. He had also played against Ecko, and they had been friends ever since. For three years, they had been assistants together at Northern Iowa and had spent many pleasant hours together with their wives and young children. Ecko thought Lonnie had the potential to head coach at the highest level, but so far his four years at NC Central had not attracted much attention.
He took a seat between Ecko and Frankie and asked loudly, “Okay, who do you have for me?”
“Who do you want?”
“Give me Alek Garang, Quinton Majok, and Jimmie Abaloy, for starters.”
“Is that all?” Those three were likely headed to bigger programs. NC Central was a historically black school in Durham and played in the Mid-Eastern Athletic Conference against similar colleges. It was often referred to as “that other school in Durham.”
“How about Abraham Bol?”
They were watching a loaded American team, Houston Gold, pick apart the team from Croatia. Frankie was called aside by an assistant from Southern Mississippi, and they soon drifted away.