Take a sharp glance at Chineze Nwagbo, standing with a basketball in her hands, clad in a Syracuse basketball practice jersey, and what do you notice first? Is it those mountainous muscular shoulders, crafted from hours in the weight room? Or do you focus on that beaming smile, the one that makes the 6-foot Super Woman appear more inviting than a kindergarten teacher on the first day of school?

Whatever catches your eye results from equal parts optimism, resiliency and spirit. Nwagbo needs all three qualities, because there’s a reason she’s over here, on the sidelines clutching a basketball, and not out there, on the …

What’s that? You noticed something else first? Well, you must have honed in on that black knee brace that’s hugged her injured right leg since last March. That’s a result of bad luck, and Nwagbo, a junior center on the Syracuse women’s basketball team, has gone through her share of that, too.

Optimism

Chinny — her real first name, pronounced Chin-e-zay, disappeared long ago for pragmatic use — couldn’t stand listening to SU’s game last Saturday at Georgetown on the radio. She needed to personally connect.

Walter Clark, her coach at DuVal High School in Lanham, Md., made the trip from his Bowie, Md., home to Washington, D.C., for the game. Nwagbo called Clark and told him to give her the play-by-play.

‘She was excited,’ Clark said. ‘I was just informing her of the score, how the game was going. Obviously, she misses her team, as her being a great competitor would dictate. She was mostly happy her team was playing well.’

Happy her team was playing well. Of course that’s what Chinny thought. Never mind the fact Syracuse lost, 70-66, to the Hoyas. Nwagbo’s glass is always half full.

She needed that attitude this winter, the first in which she hasn’t played basketball since she can remember.

Last March 2, Syracuse began its improbable run to the Big East tournament semifinals with a victory over West Virginia. That was the last time Nwagbo played in a game.

‘I was playing a great game,’ Nwagbo said. “Oooh, I was fired up. And I’m running down the court and Julie (McBride) throws me a great lob pass. I’m like, ‘Yeah!’ I come down — (ITALICS) click, click (ITALICS). It was the worst feeling in the world.

“You should’ve heard me screaming. I think I now know every person who was in the stands at that game. They came up to me like, ‘We heard you screaming. We’re just so happy that you’re walking now.’ ‘

Nwagbo had torn the anterior cruciate ligament in her right knee. After surgery in the offseason, Nwagbo planned to return in late December. But as that deadline approached, the recovery failed to go as planned, and Nwagbo redshirted.

The decision disappointed Nwagbo, but she agreed with it.

Instead of playing, Nwagbo endured rigorous rehab sessions. First, the workouts emphasized specific tendons. Now, Nwagbo and trainer Brad Pike work on improving strength and explosiveness in the knee.

Tuesday, Nwagbo completed an obstacle course in which, for 30 seconds each, she jumped rope, shuffled, sprinted, backpedaled, lowered her legs, did step-ups and stutter-stepped between ladder holes.

Nwagbo also enhanced her upper-body strength — “I got some traps now,” she said of her shoulders — and said watching from the sideline made her a smarter player.

While Nwagbo has rehabbed, the Orangewomen have limped to a 9-15 record. Nwagbo’s role turned from star to mentor.

‘I always try to be positive,’ Nwagbo said. ‘I’m pretty vocal right now, and it always helps to be vocal in situations where your team is down and your team needs that bit of positivity to pull them up.’

Typical Nwagbo, exuding buoyancy in trying times. Sure, she could weather any sore knee, but in November 2001, Nwagbo’s optimistic half-full glass nearly broke.

Resiliency

When Nwagbo recounts her sophomore season at SU, she needs a brief prologue.

‘Let me start by saying that whole year was really bad,’ she said.

Nwagbo’s father, Samuel, had been stricken with a rare bone cancer. In fall 2001, doctors told Nwagbo that Samuel was in grave condition, but Nwagbo ignored those warnings. He still looked healthy.

“You know how when someone’s sick, but they don’t look sick?” Nwagbo said. “And you continue to say, ‘Ah, they’re fine, they’re fine.’ You try to reassure yourself that they’re fine, even though they’re not fine. My dad grew really sick in the time that I was at school. To come back and see him really sick was a huge shock.”

By November 2001, Samuel had passed away. How could Nwagbo — who cried throughout her freshman year at the thought of being away from her close-knit family — cope with the loss?

“She knew it was coming,” Clark, her high school coach, said. “But it still took a terrible toll on her. Her grades suffered, and she ended up doing the minimum. And she never does anything minimally.’

All season, Nwagbo’s father’s death plagued her.

“I had a sprained knee, then I had a sprained ankle,” said Nwagbo, who missed eight games last year. “It was from injuries, and I think it all came from the stress from my father passing away.”

Though devastated by her father’s death, Nwagbo, by nature, endured it. She turned the basketball court from her playground into her sanctuary.

“I think that coming to play basketball was sort of my way out of dealing with it,” Nwagbo said. “There would be times when I’d come to practice and I’d be crying. I’d just be wiping my tears, shooting the ball. It was how I stayed sane.”

Samuel’s passing tested Nwagbo’s resiliency like nothing before. But day by day, jump shot by jump shot, Nwagbo stifled her pain while carrying Samuel’s memory.

“It’s not getting past it, but there is that milestone,” Nwagbo said. “I can now think about it and not cry to tears. My dad’s always going to be with me regardless of if he’s here physically.”

Spirit

Perhaps why Nwagbo’s optimism and resiliency meld so well is the thought of next season. The chance to discard her struggles and just play basketball. And she’s downright giddy about it.

“You know what’s going to be most exciting for me?” Chinny asked. “Just being able to get back on the floor, and just sort of going for it. You’re getting back on the floor, it’s just, ‘Ah! This is what I’m here for for!’ Sort of that sense of belonging, which might have been lost a little bit this year.”

A fresh start next year, injuries and funerals behind her. She’ll be out there, on the court, using those muscular traps. She’ll be flashing that smile. And her proverbial cup? It’ll be overflowing.

Published on February 20, 2003 at 12:00 pm