Tuck Connor laughed. He tossed aside his morning newspaper and picked up the phone to inform the Jackson County Times-Journal editors of their mistake.
Thirty-eight points? That looked more like the combined score of a girls' basketball game, not the output of a single young player, even if the voice on the other line swore the score was no typo.
But when an editor friend at the nearby Logan Daily told him of another huge total next to her name, Connor promptly marched to the newsroom and corralled a month's worth of papers from all over the region. The Ohio AAU coach sprawled out on the floor, his fingers blackening as he thumbed through the pages of proof.
Thirty points. Twenty-eight. Thirty-six. Thirty-two.
Finally, Tuck stopped and shook his head.
His editor friend peered down from his desk at the frantic flipping on the floor. "You'd better get down there," he said.
A few days later, Connor had his Ford Tempo cruising past the south central Ohio cornfields of Pike County until he found the tiny gym. There, Connor finally got to see her with his own eyes: a young phenom putting on a show in front of a packed house. Afterward, he pulled back the curtain.
Behind the house Curt Stollings built on a 2-acre plot just outside of Beaver, Ohio, was a barn. A netless, hand-welded rim — barely wide enough for a basketball to slip through — hung there, slightly bent, looking over a 20-foot ring of footworn clay carved into the grass.