by Jim Plautz
Twenty thousand fans packed the Scott Trade Center Arena in St. Louis, Missouri, for the biggest basketball game of the 21st century. This was more than a basketball game; it was a clash of cultures. The crowd was evenly divided between Muslims, many of the women wearing the traditional amira scarf, and basketball fans that had seized the opportunity to compare Matthew Wilson to the young star from Turkey who was ripping up European and Asian basketball leagues. This would be Amar Rashad’s first appearance in the United States and the first time he had faced off against Matthew Wilson.
I had wanted so much to be at the game, but it was impossible to get away. Fortunately, the BBC was telecasting the game live across the world where millions of viewers were expected. I had to settle for watching on a 14 inch screen in my hotel room. I called Matthew three hours prior to tipoff to wish him luck.
“Matthew, are you ready?”
“Coach, it’s good to hear from you. I suppose you’re looking for a couple of tickets like everyone else.”
“Not this time. I’m pretty busy here in Ethiopia and just couldn’t justify being away for so long. Believe me; I would love to be there.”
“How are things going?” Matthew asked, deflecting the conversation away from the game.
I wanted to tell him about the discovery this morning, but decided he had enough to worry about. “Things are going well, Matthew. There is something I need to talk with you about, but it can wait. You better concentrate on this game because this guy is good. Like I told you last week, I saw him play a month ago in Cairo, and the boy can do everything. He’s tall, agile and can run the floor. You better have your ‘A game’ ready.”
“I know he’s good, I’ve seen some film on him. But, tell me Coach, what’s he like? Did you get a chance to meet him?”
“No, I tried after the game, but he was surrounded by his people. But, I can tell you this, he is a leader out there. The Muslim people would follow him anywhere.”
“What’s he like personally, Coach? Could you tell by watching him?”
I thought for a moment and realized that there was something about him that I had never thought about too much. “He’s different, Matthew. He plays without much emotion and it’s almost like he would prefer to be somewhere else. It’s a mechanical game. He doesn’t appear to have your competitiveness.”
“Maybe that’s because he’s never needed to play hard. I understand he’s not involved in many close games.”
“That’s true, Matthew, but he has this aloofness that surprised me. Either way, you better be ready; this kid will give you all you can handle.”
“I’ll be ready, Coach, and I appreciate your call. I’m looking forward to hearing about what’s going on in Ethiopia. Please call me after the game.”
“I will, Matthew, and good luck tonight.”
“Oh, by the way, did you know that Amar was the one who sprung me from jail?”
I was trying to assimilate what Matthew had just told me when he said good night. Wow, maybe there is more to this guy than I gave him credit for?
Warm-ups were over and the captains were called to center court. Matthew looked forward to meeting Amar Rashad for the first time. He knew well that others were saying this was more than a basketball game; it was a clash of cultures – East against West – Christianity against Islam. Matthew was not buying into that. This was a basketball game; one team against the other – one star player competing against another. Let the best team win.
The two greatest basketball players of modern times shook hands at center court. It seemed like a quick perfunctory greeting to most of the 20,000 people in the stands and the millions watching worldwide over television, but for the two principal combatants, time almost stopped. The two young men and leaders sized up their opponent.
Matthew looked into Rashad’s eyes and was surprised at the profoundness he saw. Coach Simpson was wrong in saying that this man was aloof. What his eyes showed was a tremendous sadness and caring for his people. This man had a depth of feeling and personality that Matthew had never evidenced in another man.
Rashad was startled by the power of Matthew Wilson’s personality and the jolt of electricity that flowed through his body when they shook hands. They gazed into each other’s eyes and Rashad knew that this man was not the demigod that his handlers had told him. There was a softness and kindness in Wilson’s eyes that he had not seen on television. This was a man who he could respect and was the friend that he had been searching for.
The referees finished their instructions and the game was ready to start.
“Let’s play basketball,” Matthew said to his opponent.
“Yes, let’s give everyone a good show,” Amar replied with a smile.
The opening tip went to Rashad who quickly drove around his defender and went in for a thunderous two-handed dunk. Several of the Americans were still standing at half court, amazed at the man’s speed. Matthew took the inbounds pass and drove quickly up court and launched a 28 foot jump shot to put his team ahead 3-2. Four seconds later Rashad returned the favor and put his team ahead by two – game on!
This was just the beginning of a fantastic display of basketball. At half time, the Turkish team led 62-57 and Rashad had 41 of those points on 14 of 17 shooting. Matthew was held to a measly 37 points.
Basketball is a team game. It is sometimes dominated by stars, but it is essentially a five on five contest and usually the better team wins. This game, however, was a contest between two individuals and the fans were treated to one of the greatest one on one contests that basketball has ever seen; better than Chamberlain against Russell, better than Elgin Baylor against Jerry West, better than the scoring contest between Michael Jordon and Dominic Wilkins or Magic Johnson and Larry Bird.. The fans loved it and remained on their feet for almost the entire half.
I sat in front of my 14 inch, black and white screen watching the game thrilled with the talent shown by the two young men but disappointed in Matthew’s decision to get caught up in playing one on one basketball. This was not his style, and I hoped his coach would let him know at halftime. There was no need, as Matthew was fully aware of what was happening. As usual, he was a step ahead of the rest of us.
“Okay, team, now we start playing our kind of basketball. Everyone plays defense and everybody hustles. We rebound, go for the loose ball and take the open shot.”
“But what about Rashad? That guy is unbelievable,” a player asked.
“I’ll try to contain Rashad, at least slow him down. You fellows just play team basketball and everything will take care of itself.”
The Turkish team took the ball out of bounds to start the second half and immediately got the ball to Rashad. Matthew was on him like a blanket, but Rashad showed his best move. Rashad, a natural right-handed player, faked to his right and drove left and launched a 25 foot fade away jump shot from just beyond the three point lane. This was a shot he had been making the entire first half, but this time Matthew went up with him and deflected the shot to a teammate, broke for the basket and took the long pass for an easy layup.
“Press,” Matthew screamed, asking his team to go into a man to man full court pressure defense. Four turnovers later the Americans were up by three points before the Turkish team took a timeout. Matthew had blanketed Rashad, keeping him from getting the ball and the remaining four players showed their inexperience against quality competition. The more experienced Americans continually stole the ball and went in for easy shots. The Turkish team came out of the timeout with a new plan to get Rashad the ball. Setting double screens on Matthew, Rashad broke off the screens to retrieve the ball and drove in for a layup. Matthew again came out of nowhere and deflected the ball at the last moment.
Matthew was finally going full out 100% and playing defense the way I knew he could. He had not scored in the second half, but was dominating the game.
With five minutes left, the Americans were ahead by 14. Amar Rashad was too good a player to be stopped completely and had managed 15 p
oints on 5-14 shooting. He also had two steals, five assists and ten rebounds. Matthew only scored eight points, but 15 assists and at least a dozen rebounds. The game was rapidly becoming out of reach when Rashad came around a double screen to launch an open 3 point jump shot. Matthew again deflected the ball and headed up court in one motion. Matthew passed to a teammate and got the return pass and launched a Michael Jordan-like dunk, leaping from the free throw line and with his arm several feet above the basket. Rashad had reacted to the latest block of his shot and raced back on defense and got a hand above the rim as Matthew was coming down for his powerful dunk. Millions of basketball fans around the world watched in horror as Rashad’s elbow was pinned awkwardly against the rim. There was no way his arm could withstand the force of Matthew’s shot.
Amar recognized the situation and used all his strength to push back against the downward thrust, but realized his efforts would be futile. Matthew recognized the situation and at the last moment released his hand from the basketball. Rashad was pushing forward at full strength trying to avoid a broken arm when the resistance ceased, causing the ball to fly halfway up into the stands for a crowd-pleasing block. The Muslim crowd roared their approval, but both players knew better. Amar looked at Matthew and mouthed a silent thank you as the two players stumbled into the basket support and fell to the ground.
A new basketball was thrown from the crowd and rolled slowly across the floor towards the two star players. Later, nobody would remember where the ball came from or who had started it on its perilous journey. To everyone watching, it was just another basketball, but to Matthew it looked different. Maybe it was because the ball rolled off-center due to the extra weight inside, but something caught Matthew’s attention. “Bomb!” he yelled, while he grabbed Amar and dragged him behind the basket support. “Get away,” he shouted over the screams of the crowd.
The ball rolled to a stop at the free throw line as players and fans watched held their breath. It appeared tragedy had been averted.
Gregory, an eight-year old Muslim ball boy wearing the traditional Arabian wraparound robe, also saw the ball roll to a stop. It was his first basketball game and the first chance to see his hero, Amar Rashad, in person. He wasn’t going to do a poor job and embarrass his parents. His father told him all he had to do is get the ball if it came off the floor and return it to the players. This was his chance to show his dad that he had listened. Gregory ran on to the floor to retrieve the ball that nobody else would pick up. This was his job.
The boy was only five feet away when the ball exploded with a tremendous force. He would have been killed instantly if it were not for that man diving in front of him, using his body to shield Gregory from the explosion. His head hurt and his nose was bleeding, but Gregory would be okay. The man who saved him was lying on the floor motionless and bleeding.
Viewers from around the world, Christians and Muslims alike, watched with horror as the tragedy unfolded. Their hearts stopped as Matthew raced from his secure location and saved the boy. It did not look good – there was no way anyone could have survived that explosion. The 20,000 fans in attendance were in pandemonium and began racing for the exits until Amar Rashad took control. Standing above Matthew he raised his arms and surprisingly the crowd stopped running and became silent. Rashad knelt over Matthew. “Let us pray”, Rashad asked, “for the recovery of this great man.” Amar Rashad continued praying over Matthew’s lifeless body until paramedics came and took Matthew away. Amar made one final announcement before he followed the paramedics to the hospital.
“Matthew Wilson is alive, but needs our help. We must continue to pray for him.”
For the rest of the evening I monitored BBC and CNN broadcasts trying to get new information. Matthew had been taken to Barnes Hospital and doctors said he was in critical condition. I finally called Rosann who was monitoring the information from our home in Tampa.
“Jim, I don’t have any information for you. Isn’t it terrible?”
“I feel like I have lost a son. I can’t help but think of the happiness he brought to us since he walked into my coaches office ten years ago. It was horrible seeing him lie there motionless and bleeding from his ears and nose. Call me if you hear anything.”
“I will, Jim, is there anything else I can do?”
“Yes, get me on a plane to St. Louis. I can’t leave until late tomorrow evening, but try to get me there as soon as possible, preferably first class.”
“Okay, I’ll get right on it, Jim. I’ll let you know tomorrow morning.”
“Good night, Mary, I love you.”
“Good night, Jim; you know that I’ll be praying for Matthew.”
Chapter 22 - Discovery
