Once home, he shared a late-night pizza with his wife and three kids. He went to bed at eleven, couldn’t sleep, finally dozed off, and was awakened at 3:30 Sunday morning by a phone call from a student manager. Four of his players were running high fevers and showing flulike symptoms. Lonnie called the team doctor and arranged for the sick players to go immediately to the student infirmary. He called the other coaches and told them to quarantine for forty-eight hours. It was too late for Jason Grinnell, who had a fever. “That damned airplane was packed,” Jason said.
Samuel’s forehead was on fire and he shook with the chills as Murray rushed him to the campus clinic. The flu test was positive. Murray called his mother and she demanded that he bring Samuel home immediately. Murray wasn’t sick yet but the bug was racing through campus and she wanted him away from his teammates. She took Samuel to the basement, gave him his meds, turned out the lights, and told him to close his eyes. In her opinion, the best way to fight the flu was with plenty of liquids and hours of sleep. The chills and fevers continued throughout the night, and sleep was impossible.
* * *
·?·?·
Down four players and one coach, Central hosted Morgan State the following Monday, and played like the entire team had been stricken with some awful virus. Morgan State was average and their coach was clever. He heard the flu rumors, noticed only six Central players warming up, and quickly changed his game plan to an all-out run-and-gun, up-tempo horse race. It worked, and by half-time the Eagles were dragging.
Sooley followed the game online, but felt so lousy he really didn’t care who won. Morgan State by 18. It was his fourth night in the dark basement and he still felt like he’d been run over by a bus. He was tired of the fever, the headaches, the tomato soup. Frankly, he was tired of his nurse, who checked on him every half hour, it seemed. During the day, she called. Ernie called. Murray called. How was anybody supposed to sleep?
Evidently, the strain that hit the campus was particularly virulent. Two of the four players, Roy Tice and Duffy Sunday, recovered enough to make the bus trip to Delaware State. Dmitri Robbins and Sooley did not. Coach Grinnell stayed home too, and it was just as well. Delaware State ran the Eagles out of the gym.
Two days later, the same bus hauled them back home after another bad game, another frustrating effort at South Carolina State. It was their 13th loss, fifth in the conference, and the mood could not have been darker. Coach Britt had stopped yelling.
He had also stopped dreaming of a fine new job at a bigger school. At the moment he was just hoping to keep the one he had.
CHAPTER 38
After a week of quiet mornings, Lonnie unlocked his office door early Saturday and stopped when he heard a bouncing ball. Sooley was back. And it was time for a chat. He watched him for a moment, then pulled him off the court. They sat in the empty stands as the first rays of sunlight peeked through the windows and scattered on the floor.
“The doctor says you’re good to go,” Lonnie said.
“I’m okay, Coach. It was a long week but I’m over it.”
“How much weight did you lose?”
“Ten pounds. Already putting it back on.”
“Are you weak?”
“I’m about ninety percent, Coach, and getting stronger every day.”
“Do you think you’re ready to play?”
“Sure. I mean, you’re talking about a real game?”
“Maybe, yes. I hate to burn your redshirt year, Sooley, and I won’t do it if you object. But the truth has become rather obvious, hasn’t it? We need some help. We need a new lineup. Maybe we need new coaches. I don’t know. I’m afraid the players are on the verge of giving up.”
“I’m ready, Coach. It sucks being a redshirt. All the practice and none of the games. When do you want me?”
“I’m not sure. We play here tomorrow afternoon. Should be an easy game but nothing is coming easy these days. Rontae’s out sick. You get mentally prepared and stay ready, okay?”
“Got it, Coach. Just put me in.”
The very thought of getting into a real game, for the first time since August, and his first college game at that, sent Samuel into orbit. He shot baskets with a new determination, and he did so for the rest of the morning. When he left the gym in search of food, a light snow was falling. He took it as a good omen. His first snow the day before his first game.
There was little accumulation, and the streets, though unplowed, remained passable. Still, venturing out on a raw, cold Sunday afternoon to watch two teams with losing records was not appealing to many fans.