measly 24. I needed a plan.
I had only one or two guys on my high school team who were athletic. One guy in particular, 6â6â Paul Bocage, was our center. He also played volleyball and had an incredible vertical leap, but he had to be in certain spots for me to throw him the ball where I knew he could catch it. Now all of a sudden Iâm surrounded by guys who are 6â8â, 6â9â, with 40-inch verticals, who are able to shoot threes and catch anything thrown their way. So I decided I was going to showcase my court vision and focus on making everyone else better. Just go in, pass, and keep everybody involved , I said to myself. And it worked.
In the first scrimmage, I had 17 assists and really started to find my groove. During the second scrimmage, I spotted Coach K on the sidelines. I also saw Roy Williams, who was at Kansas at the time. Kentuckyâs Tubby Smith, UConnâs Jim Calhoun, Jim Boeheim out of Syracuse. The list went on and on.
But what really caught my eye were a couple of guys wearing North Carolina T-shirts. See, growing up, I wore my Tar Heel shortsâthe heavy mesh Nike ones with a powder blue base and white accentsâand I would lower the rim attempting to imitate the 360-degree dunks that UNCâs Vince Carter did. Phil Ford was a legend, Kenny Smith was from Jamaica, Queens, and who didnât love watching Jerry Stackhouse play? I really didnât follow the ACC a lot, because I lived in Big East country. It was a gritty style of play where a fight threatened to break out every game. It reminded me of Cedar Brook Park, and I loved it. My dad was infatuated with coach John Thompson at Georgetown. Duke? I was aware of Bobby Hurley, whose father, Bobby Hurley Sr., coached the basketball powerhouse St. Anthonyâs in Jersey City. But nobody I knew was trying to be the next Bobby Hurley or his fellow Duke star Christian Laettner. Itâs funny, consideringhow things panned out, but in high school I really didnât pay attention to Duke at all.
I wanted to be a Tar Heel.
It was nerve-wracking playing in front of all these coaches. Every time somebody made a mistake, you would look over to the sideline and see these legends writing you up, like youâd committed a crime. When you did something good, it was the exact same response. They jotted down every small detailâthe way you interacted with teammates, and your coach, how you dealt with the refs, with the opposing players, whether you used profanity, even if your shirt was tucked in or not. Most of all, we were being assessed on how we competedâdid any of us slack off or, even worse, coast for stretches at a time?
One of the camp directors told me I averaged 16.5 assists per game. I didnât realize I had it in me. For the first time in my basketball career, I discovered how excited and happy people were to play with a guard who got them the ball in positions to succeed. It was rewarding for me making my teammates better.
All my life Iâve been told by others what I couldnât do. I would perk up whenever criticism came in my direction. Those slightsâjustified or notâhave always stuck to my memory dartboard. When Street & Smithâs basketball annual came out, I wanted to be on the list of the best playersâno, I wanted to be at the top of the list. A year earlier, Coach Taylor had strongly suggested that I commit early to Fordham. I was ranked behind guys like Brett Nelson and Jason Gardner. Both were fantastic talents at the time, but being graded below them only inspired me to work harder, with more urgency.
Things escalated quickly coming out of the Nike camp. Letters from major programs started to flood my mailbox, and phonemessages left by big-time coaches came by the dozens. I started to get recognized the way I had always dreamed about. It was incredibly validating. The hard work was beginning to pay off.
When it came time to make a decision about where I
I had only one or two guys on my high school team who were athletic. One guy in particular, 6â6â Paul Bocage, was our center. He also played volleyball and had an incredible vertical leap, but he had to be in certain spots for me to throw him the ball where I knew he could catch it. Now all of a sudden Iâm surrounded by guys who are 6â8â, 6â9â, with 40-inch verticals, who are able to shoot threes and catch anything thrown their way. So I decided I was going to showcase my court vision and focus on making everyone else better. Just go in, pass, and keep everybody involved , I said to myself. And it worked.
In the first scrimmage, I had 17 assists and really started to find my groove. During the second scrimmage, I spotted Coach K on the sidelines. I also saw Roy Williams, who was at Kansas at the time. Kentuckyâs Tubby Smith, UConnâs Jim Calhoun, Jim Boeheim out of Syracuse. The list went on and on.
But what really caught my eye were a couple of guys wearing North Carolina T-shirts. See, growing up, I wore my Tar Heel shortsâthe heavy mesh Nike ones with a powder blue base and white accentsâand I would lower the rim attempting to imitate the 360-degree dunks that UNCâs Vince Carter did. Phil Ford was a legend, Kenny Smith was from Jamaica, Queens, and who didnât love watching Jerry Stackhouse play? I really didnât follow the ACC a lot, because I lived in Big East country. It was a gritty style of play where a fight threatened to break out every game. It reminded me of Cedar Brook Park, and I loved it. My dad was infatuated with coach John Thompson at Georgetown. Duke? I was aware of Bobby Hurley, whose father, Bobby Hurley Sr., coached the basketball powerhouse St. Anthonyâs in Jersey City. But nobody I knew was trying to be the next Bobby Hurley or his fellow Duke star Christian Laettner. Itâs funny, consideringhow things panned out, but in high school I really didnât pay attention to Duke at all.
I wanted to be a Tar Heel.
It was nerve-wracking playing in front of all these coaches. Every time somebody made a mistake, you would look over to the sideline and see these legends writing you up, like youâd committed a crime. When you did something good, it was the exact same response. They jotted down every small detailâthe way you interacted with teammates, and your coach, how you dealt with the refs, with the opposing players, whether you used profanity, even if your shirt was tucked in or not. Most of all, we were being assessed on how we competedâdid any of us slack off or, even worse, coast for stretches at a time?
One of the camp directors told me I averaged 16.5 assists per game. I didnât realize I had it in me. For the first time in my basketball career, I discovered how excited and happy people were to play with a guard who got them the ball in positions to succeed. It was rewarding for me making my teammates better.
All my life Iâve been told by others what I couldnât do. I would perk up whenever criticism came in my direction. Those slightsâjustified or notâhave always stuck to my memory dartboard. When Street & Smithâs basketball annual came out, I wanted to be on the list of the best playersâno, I wanted to be at the top of the list. A year earlier, Coach Taylor had strongly suggested that I commit early to Fordham. I was ranked behind guys like Brett Nelson and Jason Gardner. Both were fantastic talents at the time, but being graded below them only inspired me to work harder, with more urgency.
Things escalated quickly coming out of the Nike camp. Letters from major programs started to flood my mailbox, and phonemessages left by big-time coaches came by the dozens. I started to get recognized the way I had always dreamed about. It was incredibly validating. The hard work was beginning to pay off.
When it came time to make a decision about where I
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