“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.
The All-American was so rattled he did not make another shot.
Lonnie shook his head and said, “He looked ten feet off the ground.”
“Well, his standing vertical leap is thirty-four inches. Forty-five when he’s moving. Give him a running start and he can jump over the backboard.”
“But he can’t shoot and he can’t dribble.”
“He’s coming around, okay? He works incredibly hard and he’s still growing.”
“Who else is looking at him?”
Ecko smiled and shook his head. “Truthfully, no one right now. If I were you I’d take a chance.”
A waitress brought a bowl of pretzels and inquired about another round. No thanks. Maybe later.
Lonnie frowned and glanced around. “I got a problem, Ecko. A new one.”
“What is it?”
“Two of my players were arrested last night in Durham.”
“For what?”
“Armed robbery.”
“Oh, come on, Lonnie. You serious?”
“As a heart attack. A couple of real blockheads. They’re in summer school, most of my kids are, and they went out on Saturday night and found some serious trouble.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know all the facts but I’ve been on the phone all day. My AD. The President. The police. But they ain’t saying much. Looks like the boys went to a party, smoked some pot, and got in the car with the wrong guy. They had plenty of pot but ran out of beer. The driver stopped at a convenience store, and for some reason decided it would be smart to pull a gun and rob the cashier. Fortunately he didn’t pull the trigger. All three are charged with armed robbery. AD says they gotta go. Now.”
“Good kids?”
Lonnie took a sip of beer and kept frowning. “Good guys, I love ’em, but both come from bad homes. One, Clancy, has a brother in prison. He was my number seven last season, played 15 minutes a game. A junior with little time for classwork. The other, Fonzo we call him, will be a sophomore and is pretty lazy. I have great kids, Ecko, for the most part.”
“But the kids are not armed robbers. Sounds like little more than a dumb mistake.”
“Yeah, but they’re facing serious charges.”
“You gotta replace them?”
“Yep, for this season anyway. I have to meet the AD and the lawyers tomorrow and they’ll try to work a deal. But the kids are out of the program for at least a year.”
“Sooleymon?”
“I’m thinking, okay? Be honest with me, Ecko.”
“When have I ever been dishonest?”
“Never. But you do love your players.”
“Same as you.”
“Sure, most of the time.”
“Lonnie, Samuel could be the steal of the tournament. He’s not getting looks because he’s not scoring. But he will. When I first saw him back in April he had the worst jump shot in Africa. He’s come a long way and he’s still working hard. And growing.”
“He’ll never be a point guard.”
“No. Forget the point. He’ll be at least six six by Christmas.”
“What about classwork?”
“He’s from the bush, okay? He just finished secondary school in his village so you gotta figure he’ll need some help. Surely you can get him in.”
“Probably so. Central is not exactly like the other school in Durham.”
“Oh, so you think Duke worries about SAT scores?”
They shared a laugh and ordered another beer. Ecko was excited by the possibility and pushed even harder. At midnight, Lonnie glanced at his watch and said, “I need to go. I can’t stick around for the game tomorrow. I have an early flight to Durham and meet with the AD at noon. Then, I have the pleasure of going to the jail.”