PROVIDENCE -- The cheer that began as a low rumble a few weeks ago is building with each passing Providence College basketball game.
The volume cascades down from the rafters to the playing floor at the Dunkin' Donuts Center while the best Friar season in 15 years unfolds.
"Broooo, Broooo."
The recipient of the fans' adoration, freshman guard Dwight Brewington, says he hasn't heard the chant just yet. And he never will.
While he admits to laughing at the all-too-frequent foul words PC fans toss at referees, Brewington does so only by reading lips. He was born with a 60 percent hearing loss and is medically termed "profoundly deaf." Even with cutting-edge hearing aids, the Lynn, Mass., native lives a very different life from his teammates, friends and virtually every other college player in the country.
His dorm room at PC is equipped with such aids as a doorbell that triggers a light. His phone lights up with each incoming call. He loves police and spy movies, but uses closed captions so he doesn't miss a word. During classes, he's assigned a note-taker, but academics have never come easy.
The basketball floor is another matter entirely. While Brewington needs to read his teammates' and coach Tim Welsh's lips during timeouts and occasionally misses Welsh's verbal, on-the-fly strategy changes, his hearing impairment isn't obvious. As his mother, Pamela Harrison, told him years ago, he "has a gift from God," that's allowed him to play basketball at an elite level his entire life.
Although his first five months at PC were sometimes rocky and sparked an initial impulse to leave the school, he's beginning to thrive. He's started the last five games in place of injured forward Rob Sanders, averaged 7.4 points and is "finally letting the game come to me. I've done that the last five games and we're 5-0," Brewington said.
But getting to this point hasn't been easy for Brewington. Staying happy likely won't be easy, either.
WHEN BREWINGTON was born on St. Patrick's Day in 1984, his mother welcomed a long, skinny boy with an inquisitive face into the world. When it was time for him to walk, however, she grew alarmed.
"He was a great baby so I didn't know about his hearing until he was 13 months and getting ready to walk," said his mother. "I'd call him and he wouldn't respond."
Harrison was expectedly shaken by the news. "It wasn't easy because I knew he'd always be different," she said. "But I promised to give him a 'you can do what you want to do' attitude."
Brewington went to the Beverly School for the Deaf in kindergarten and first grade, but when teachers there told his mother he was verbally responding to his lessons, she moved him to an elementary school in Saugus, Mass., for second grade and to the suburbs of Wakefield for junior high. His mother's decision to have her son live a life beyond sign language is one he clearly still battles with every day.
"I always say 'why me?' Why am I always unhappy in a kind of way. I always question that," Brewington said. "I get mad at my mom that she made me stop using sign language, but she says if I still was signing I wouldn't be playing [basketball] on TV. I wouldn't even be [at PC] if I was using sign language because Coach [Welsh] doesn't know sign language."
Brewington says the kids in Wakefield would tease him about his handicap and some even asked whether he was mentally handicapped. "I hated it there. Those kids should've known better, but the only people respecting me where the teachers and my coach," he said.
He moved home to Lynn English for his sophomore and junior years of high school and enjoyed success on the hardwood. He also began playing with the Metro Boston AAU program in the summers and performed so well he quickly developed a national name. Soon college coaches from around the country were sending him letters, including PC, Connecticut and North Carolina State.
But in order to go anywhere, Brewington needed to boost his grades. So he left Lynn and enrolled at Worcester Academy in the fall of 2003, entering a world of Gothic buildings, a campus green and students driving BMWs and Lexuses. It was a long way from Lynn.
"I hated it," Brewington says flatly. "It was a place that told me, 'You're a grown man now. Get ready to be on your own.' I wasn't ready for that."
Brewington often clashed with his teachers and his coach, Mo Cassara.
"I held him accountable for everything and that certainly made it very difficult, at times, to coach him," said Cassara, now an assistant coach at Dayton. "He fought the system several times so it was a battle, but we lost only four games and Dwight didn't play in two of them. That shows how special he was as a player."
WHEN BREWINGTON first arrived at Worcester, he brazenly told an Internet recruiting service that his team would win the New England prep title. Cassara scolded him for the words but after Worcester grabbed the championship in a win over Winchendon at Rhode Island College, Brewington walked by Cassara and slapped a piece of paper in his hand.
"It was a copy of that article. Dwight just said 'I told you,' and walked away," said Cassara.
Brewington now concedes his prep school year was a necessary evil. "I know that if I never went to Worcester Academy, I'd have a lot of problems right now because that place gets you ready for college. It's something I had to do, but I wasn't ready to do it," he said.
During the recruiting process, Brewington's mother asked pointed questions about her son's hearing impairment and role on the team. They settled on PC in large part because it's close to home, but also because Brewington saw a chance to play the position he loves.
"I was born as a point guard. Point guard is my position. Not shooting guard or the three man," he says. "My favorite player is Jason Kidd because he makes things happen. He creates things and I want to be that type of player."
Donnie McGrath is PC's point guard and Brewington admits he wasn't happy with his projected role back in the fall. He even spoke about leaving school, but was quickly counseled both by his mother and Welsh.
"Every freshman has an adjustment period. All three of our European [players] wanted to leave as soon as they got here," said Welsh. "The thing Dwight falls back on is basketball and I just told him that once basketball started, he'd enjoy the experience. Most kids just want things right away."
Like many freshmen, Brewington wants a larger role. Everyone around him may counsel patience but he only wants more of everything.
"He's very competitive and he's not afraid, whether he's in the Hartford Civic Center or the Worcester YMCA," said Welsh.
That fearless edge comes out as Brewington talks about his teammates and PC's success. He says no one should be surprised the Friars are ranked in the top 25 and shouldn't be surprised if his game flourishes, either.
"Early in the year, Coach Welsh didn't have confidence in me, but I told him, 'I promise you, if I start playing good, we can go all the way,' " said Brewington. "If we keep playing defense like we have, no one can stop us."
As the craziness of college basketball swirls around him, Brewington hears only muffled cheers. He'll look up in the crowd and sign a quick "I love you" to his mother, perhaps as another "Brooo" cheer fills The Dunk. Then he'll dig in and battle the opponent.
"I'm having fun because we're winning. That's what it's all about," he said. "I didn't want to go to UConn or Maryland. I want to be on a team that hasn't won in a long time. This year, we can win it all."
