SDSU Senior Night: Aguek Arop, the best teammate (2023)

Aguek Arop will take to center court at Viejas Arena with his parents and local pastor for the San Diego State Senior Night before Thursday's game against Fresno State. He is presented with a black jersey with the number 33 framed in it, which he holds up to thunderous applause.

You can peruse his career stats, or watch an outstanding package of dunks and steals and net cuts at the conference tournament, or read about his family history when South Sudanese refugees fled the civil war in Africa and huddled in a three-bedroom apartment in Omaha, Nebraska, all 11. But everything you need to know about the 6ft-6 forward - the essence of the man they call AG - is encapsulated in this jersey.

When he first arrived at SDSU he wore the number 3 and had rights to it throughout his career. Then Terrell Gomez, a 3-point specialist, joined SDSU last season after wearing 3 at CSUN. No problem, it's yours, I'll trade it for a teammate. Then Gomez left and Matt Bradley came in wanting 3 too. No problem, you got it.

"He takes care of everyone else," says coach Brian Dutcher. "It's not about him. And that's what made this show so great. Everyone is willing to sacrifice a part of themselves for the good of the program and the team."

When asked about his legacy at SDSU on Wednesday, Arop paused and said quietly, "I want to be remembered as a great guy, ultimately a guy who cheers on his teammates. If I'm remembered for that, I can't ask for anything more."

Nine months ago he could never have imagined making it to seniors night.

He went home after another crazy season and accepted his fate. His body was a mess: jaw surgery, leg surgery, hip surgery, shoulder surgery, a severed hand from a freak accident, then dizziness he (and a team of medical experts) couldn't shake. Last year he finally made it to the NCAA tournament and was then benched against Syracuse because the dizziness was so bad Hinkle twirled Fieldhouse around every time he got up.

"My body," says Arop, "just gave up."

He informed Dutcher and his teammates that he was retiring. He would return to SDSU, graduate and begin the next chapter of his life.

Dutcher said he understands but it would be great if he could be with the team, come to practice, help the younger players, be a glorified coach, run the clock, whatever. He handed him a whistle and let him direct skirmishes.

"It was an experienced move to come back on the court because I was frustrated with basketball," says Arop, who could technically exercise a COVID waiver for another season but won't make up his mind until after this one. "In the summer I didn't do anything until I came back here. Then I started defending myself for a practice or two. Next I play offensive. Then three or four more exercises and I practice. Little by little, I realized that I was falling in love with the game all over again. ...I had fun."

Dutcher's opinion:

"As a seasoned veteran coach, I knew that if I could get him back to the gym I would eventually miss him. I think AG finally missed it and said, 'Coach, I'll try.' I said, 'Well, I'm not surprised. The first thing she had to do was get him back to the gym. If he didn't want to play, he would have been valuable for this year's team. But of course it's more important that he plays. He found a way to put himself there to help us and I'm grateful for that."

A decade earlier, senior forward Tim Shelton and his old knees rode the stationary bike in practice and only played in games when he could, leading to rallies and leading the Aztecs to a 2012 Mountain West title. It worked because Shelton had a high basketball IQ, three years of experience in the SDSU system, and an uncanny ability to tune out pain while donning a uniform. Dutcher proposed a similar arrangement.

"I had never heard of it," Arop said of restricting or even abolishing the practice. "I sort of ruled it out. I was worried about what my classmates would think. But I started practicing more and the coaches were talking about Tim Shelton and people who had just played games. I spoke to some of my team-mates and they supported me."

It is this ethos of selflessness that Arop embodied and has now been rewarded.

“The guys train all week and AG can't train because he can't,” says Dutcher, “and none of them blame it. We're about to win on this show. If AG can help us win and that means he can only play in games, that's fine for the team. To do that you have to have a culture where a guy doesn't train and then get his minutes in games.

“You know AG gives everything he has and if he could practice he would. But they are all willing to take on any role they have for the good of the team. That's why we won the way we won.”

The dizziness subsided. Now it's his hip that was surgically repaired after his freshman year, followed by a grueling six-month rehabilitation. Some days it's stiff. Some days it's not. It's always like this the day after the games.

A cortisone shot helped, only he fell on his hip at Utah State and missed three of the next four games. Twice most recently, the Aztecs used him in the first half and then benched him in the second because they were leading by double digits and wanted to "save" him.

"In practice, I try not to do too much, but I don't like doing nothing," says Arop. "Some days I don't do anything. But I like going out. I just try to stay on track and not overdo it. When it comes to games, when the adrenaline is flowing, I hardly feel anything. It is wonderful. The bigger the game, the less pain. The pain is practically non-existent. I like to say that adrenaline is a great drug.

"But at 2 or 3 in the morning everything comes back."

His career averages are profane: 3.3 points, 2.7 rebounds, but his value rarely appears on the scorecard. It's about jumping after a fumble, deflecting a pass, snagging a key offensive rebound (he got a standing ovation last month), drawing a flash and doing an invisible defensive rotation to avoid a basket.

Playing out of shape for the final six minutes at 7,220 feet in Wyoming on Monday, he guards Mountain West Player of the Year nominee Hunter Maldonado, snagging a pair of clutch defensive rebounds and then coming out of nowhere to block the shot attempt Drake Jeffries. 12 seconds remain to seal victory.

"Winning games" is what his colleague Trey Pulliam calls them.

His colleagues are always talking about him, his energy, his inspiration, his selflessness, his courage, his smile. At a certain point it becomes contagious.

"It definitely shows how strong this team is and AG is the epitome of that," says Pulliam, who has overcome his own physical challenges this season. "I mean, the things he's going through, the things he's fighting for every day, he barely gets to practice with us. It's all about the fact that he can go on stage and let off steam without practice, without repetitions or the like."