The game lived up to its hype. Both teams were loaded with talent and superbly coached, and they played to a draw in the first half. In the second, Duke’s deep bench became a factor as its relentless defense wore down the Cardinals. With six minutes to go, the inevitable happened. Duke’s long-range bombers got hot. For this game it was Tyrell Miller and Darnell Coe, and they buried Louisville with a barrage of threes. The crowd got even louder and at times Sooley couldn’t hear himself think.
He would never forget the experience. He loved the spectacle, the action, the back-and-forth of two great teams, but he was also convinced that he belonged on that court. It was time to step up his game.
And he wasn’t alone. Though Hubert had yet to tell his brother, he and another Duke assistant had begun quiet discussions about approaching Sooley with the idea of a transfer. They had heard the rumors, watched some film, and planned to sneak into The Nest for a game. If they became convinced, they would broach the subject with Coach K.
Driving home, with their ears still ringing, Coach Grinnell entertained them with the story of his first and only game at Cameron. He had played for four years at Wofford, and in what was scheduled to be one of those early December cakewalks his team had fought Duke to a tie in regulation, then lost by three in overtime. He had missed a 30-footer at the buzzer, a shot that he should have made and one that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
It was snowing again when they returned to their campus, the other school in Durham.
* * *
·?·?·
Howard rolled into town leading the MEAC with only one loss and playing well. Vegas thought they should win by nine.
Coach Britt mentioned this to his team in the locker room and, of course, reminded them of the egg they had laid in Washington on December 19. An embarrassing loss by 31, and it was time for revenge.
Three straight conference wins, along with the emergence of a freshman star, and the crowds were growing. The Nest was near capacity when the teams took the floor, and the Central students were in a raucous mood. The frigid temperature outside seemed to affect both teams, and neither scored in the first two minutes. At 15:20, and with only four points on the board, Coach Britt called time and put in Sooley and Jabari Nix. When Jabari missed a 10-foot jumper, the rebound went long and Howard broke fast. As its point guard sailed in for an easy layup, Sooley sprang from what seemed like mid-court, slapped the ball hard against the backboard, then grabbed the rebound and rifled a pass to Melvin Montgomery, who was trailing badly. He walked the ball to the rim and slammed it home. A replay would show that Sooley’s block was goaltending, but the refs had been too stunned to call it. The Howard coach was livid, wouldn’t back down, and finally the refs had no choice but to tee him up. As Mitch Rocker took the penalty shot, the Central students began, loudly, “Sooley! Sooley! Sooley!”
On the inbound, Sooley made eye contact with Murray, who had the ball, and broke for the corner. Murray’s pass was perfect, and before any Howard player could react, Sooley was soaring toward the roof from 30 feet with a perfect jumper. He followed it with two more from long range, and the windows in the old gym were rattling.
As a rookie, Sooley was aware of the protocol, and the last thing he wanted was loose talk in the locker room, the kind of tension created by a freshman hotshot who hogged the ball. He passed up a good look and fired a beautiful pass to Roy Tice, who lost it out of bounds. As the clock ticked it became apparent that none of his teammates could buy a basket. Howard was tall and tough inside and gave up nothing. No problem. Sooley backed away, peeled off a screen, and hit his fourth straight from beyond the arc. He missed his next two and began passing. At 3:35, he came out for a breather and watched Howard go up by six. With a minute to go in the half, Roy Tice, a real banger inside, picked up his third foul and Lonnie yanked him. Down by three, and with the ball, Murray killed some clock and set up the last play. His pass was slapped away and rolled to Sooley, who was almost at mid-court. His defender backed away, daring him to shoot, and with eight seconds to go, he did. Wide open, he skied anyway, and lofted a beautiful shot that tied the score.
The crowd roared even louder, and the team hustled to the locker room with the chant of “Sooley! Sooley Sooley!” in the background.
He had 14 points, four threes, and a dunk. He was the offense, and at that moment his teammates were willing to put the game on his back. So were the coaches. They huddled away from the players and agreed on the strategy: Just get the damned ball to Sooley.
All eyes were on him as he sat on the bench for the first three very long minutes of the second half. When Coach Britt called his name and he walked to the scorer’s table, the crowd reacted. So did Howard, but it was impossible to defend a long jump shot cocked high above the head of a 6'7" player who could spring over the backboard. He hit two of them, missed the third, and when he hit his third—and seventh out of nine—Howard called time. Their coach decided that the only way to stop him was to foul, and hard.