America may be massing troops for war, but here in Rome there's a more immediate campaign on people's minds: the state high school basketball tournament.

Coosa High, a local team, has made it to the round of 16, and many here think they could go all the way. Finally. Two years ago, they made it this far only to lose in overtime, after a referee ruled that the final shot - a nothing-but-net three-pointer - was released after the buzzer (a call that's still hotly disputed).

This year, the Eagles have looked better than ever, losing just one game all season. And Coosa fans are expecting neither referees nor the Wesleyan Wolves, their opponents at the Forum tonight, to stand in their way.

None of this is to say that Romans aren't following the Iraq situation. They watch the news, and most seem to know of someone - a church member's son, a schoolmate's brother - who has been sent over. But the subject doesn't elicit the passion of jump shots and rebounds off the rim.

Most here are in favor of ousting Saddam Hussein, and are quick to declare their support for President Bush and the troops. Yet behind the pro-war refrain lies a notable ambivalence. Many wonder about the war's human and financial costs. And they're troubled by visions of its aftermath, including a long US occupation of Iraq. In this Rome, people want nothing to do with imperialism.

Tending the hospitality room at the basketball tournament, where Coosa friends and family feast on homemade macaroni and cheese, fried chicken, and sweet tea before the game, Pam Jeffries offers a sturdy endorsement of military action: "We need to do something," she says. Comparing Mr. Hussein to a bully on the playground, this mother of two teenagers says: "We need to stand up for what's right."

But when pressed on how extensive the US role should be, she wavers: "It seems weird that America's always the big brother, telling everybody what to do. I don't know if it's right or not."

It's a typical response in this old carpet-mill town in northwest Georgia's red clay hills, where churches outnumber gas stations and the politics lean conservative. With its historic downtown full of 19th century homes and quaint brick storefronts, Rome still gives off a small-town feel, though it's increasingly being subsumed by the booming Atlanta suburbs. It's a place where a customer can walk into a local antique shop to pay for an item taken home the day before - and the owner will ask if she remembers the price. There's a classic luncheonette, Partridge's, where residents can go for a "meat and three." But there's also a trendy new cafe, Harvest Moon, with pressed Cuban sandwiches and other more exotic fare.

As the game begins, with the tip-off under a giant American flag, it's apparent that the Coosa team may be feeling some pressure. The Eagles look a little tentative against their nothing-to-lose competitors, and it's affecting their timing, giving the Wolves an early lead. But basketball is nothing if not a game of momentum, and the team finds their rhythm after a couple of key three-point shots, bringing the score to even. Then a major blow: Coosa's center, one of their best players, gets his third foul, and has to sit down. The team hangs on until the half-time buzzer, when, up by two, they head into the locker room to regroup.

In fast-growing Floyd County, there are other high schools, too. And not everyone at the Forum is rooting for the Eagles. Indeed, there's some whispering in the stands that the Coosa team has gotten a little arrogant this year. "A lot of people resent seeing somebody else be successful," observes Ron Roach, who coaches girls' basketball at nearby Chattooga High.

To many here, there's a similar explanation for anti-American sentiment abroad. "It's jealousy," says Ray Peugh, a retired GE employee who's come to the game. He and other Romans are particularly disgusted at the way America's European allies have been withholding support for military action against Iraq.

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