The greatest rivalry in sports doesn’t just happen on the hardwood twice a year. Not anymore. It isn’t just Feb 6 and March 8 this year. It’s already begun. The first shots have already been heard, from Texas, to California, to Madison Square Garden. And the lion, so used to the balmy glow of the sun, suddenly finds itself in the cold drags of winter.
Jan 3: 6’10” 5-star John Henson (2009) commits to Carolina.
Jan 4: 6’9” 4-star twins Travis and David Wear (2009), former teammates of Taylor King, commits to Carolina.
Jan 9: 6’5” 5-star Reggie Bullock (2010), commits to Carolina.
Jan 13: 6’3” 5-star Dexter Strickland (2009), playing in the Nike Super 6 at MSG, commits to Carolina.
Then, on Jan 16: 6’10” 4-star Erik Murphy (2009), one of 4 highly coveted Duke recruits, commits to Florida . . without even a single Duke visit.
Son of a b**ch.
Al Featherston on DBR tries to allay the fears, reminding us that “Many - maybe most - of K’s major recruiting victories have been as good as advertised. That string of great players stretches from Johnny Dawkins to Danny Ferry to Grant Hill to Elton Brand to Shane Battier to Jason Williams to J.J. Redick to Luol Deng . . .
. . . to Kyle Singler.”
Oh, lord.
You don’t know, what you’ve got, do you? Seeing his name up there, alongside the greats . . I was totally unexpecting it. Recruiting is all about looking forward, to the next big thing, the next one, the next one. But what about our current roster? How about G? Scheyer? . . Kyle? Last night, his face was black and blue – an ugly gash right under his right eye, a cut above his eyebrow that had required stitches 2 months ago and was just healing up – and now his chin was cut open, bleeding only a few seconds ago. Oh Kyle. We are so lucky to have you. When Duke was on the ropes, when it could do nothing as its pretty lead all but vanished . . who puts us on his back? Who steps up to the 3 point line and demands the ball for a point-blank shot? To see him, putting his arms around his teammates in the huddle . . to hear him say, someone’s got to do it, we might be thin up front but we’re gonna do team defense and someone’s got to step up. I’ll do it. I don’t mind. I never signed on to play the 5, but . . I’ll do this. For Duke.
“I’ll be back.”
It’s been an eventful night. Scheyer went absolutely ballistic on Florida State, playing like an all-world, playing like a kid with a slingshot who’d just figured out what he can do with it, and gleefully running around, snickering. They are all ribbing on him, teasing him, mimicking his moves, laughing and having a good time in the back of the bus. Coach K looks back at them – a wide grin on his face. His young team had faced a tough road opponent tonight, the same opponent that had gone into LittleJohn and pushed Clemson into double OT – and he knew what this win meant to them.
Believe me, there was a reason why he didn’t schedule any “true” road games earlier in the season. A reason that no one else knew about. It was games like these, that sometimes tries his patience as a Hall of Fame coach. He needs to maintain composure – he’s got to remember that. But it kills him, when opposing fans cannot appreciate the hard work and effort that his kids had just put forth tonight. No matter the win – no matter if it was a loss or draw – whatever – any basketball player, should deserve more respect and more courtesy than the s*** doled out to his team tonight. No matter who you are – no matter what's on the front of your jersey – hey. These kids are putting their life on the line for you. For your enjoyment. They are sacrificing their bodies. They are sacrificing their time and effort and heart. The least you can do is show some respect. You don’t need to throw things. You don’t need to hijack the ESPN broadcast to show your dirty mouth to the world. Some of the stuff that the kids said . . my God. That was why Coach K was on the sidelines, putting his arm around Greg, pulling his eyes down. Don’t look at the students. They don’t deserve your attention. Look at me. Look at the person who believes in you. Sometimes, Greg, it’s us against the world.
So they are pulling out of the arena, onto the highway to the airport. The night is dark, 10pm, and they stop by to grab food before heading to the terminal. “Away” games are the toughest when they are on Wednesday nights, because you have to jet in on Tuesday, then miss an entire day of classes on Wednesday as you practice and scout. On Thursday, you’re tired, still shot with adrenaline, and looking forward to Friday already. But that is the life of a student-athlete. And when he looks back on them . . when he sits in his seat and reclines back and can almost close his eyes to the blissful sounds of laughter and teasing and the awful rap noises Taylor King was making to accompany Nolan Smith’s bass-voiced play by play of Scheyer’s 21 points in 75 seconds against the Noles . .
He can almost see them, each one clearly, without even having to turn around and open his eyes. They were there, in his mind – the result of months of hard recruiting and then weeks and months and for some of them 3 and a half years of daily practices and dinners and one-on-ones, to ingrain them in his mind. Their smiles. Their frowns. Their wide eyes . . tired breaths . . and their brilliance, that bounce in their steps, once they got it. Oh, and they got it tonight. Those first half minutes, when they went on that 16-0 tear – he had so wanted to run out on the court to join them. How much fun was Scheyer having? The smarts, the court vision, the stunning awareness! How much of an improvement had Taylor King made over the last couple of games? Nolan Smith? And Kyle Singler. Oy! How clutch, was that 3 point shot? Of all the 3 point specialists on the team . . for him, to want it! A 6’8” freshman!
But then comes the call that can ice your heart. Erik Murphy is on the other line. His voice is scratchy . . hello coach . . I’m calling to let you know . . um . . well . . I’m sorry, coach. I was very interested in Duke University. I’ve really thought it through. But, in the end . . my gut tells me, Florida. I know I’ll fit right in with their style of play. Yes . . yes, I know. I’m sorry, coach. I really am . . . Okay. Thank you. Best of luck.”
Click.
The noise has died down. The kids have scooted back into their seats, starting to feel the drag of the long night ahead of them, many pulling on their earphones. In the silence, Coach K could still hear one voice: Kyle Singler, talking on the phone to his parents in Oregon. The snippets of conversation wafted slowly towards the front of the bus. “I’m fine, mom . . really, it’s no big deal, it’s already healed! . . haha, okay . . oh, did you see that dunk by G?? Off that missed free-throw? No?? That was sick! . . hey EJ . . how was your game last night? . . . ”
Silently, Coach K leans forward until his forehead rests on his knuckles, squeezing his eyes tight. It is all he can do to keep his emotions inside. Kyle Singler. I have to surround you with better talent. I just have to. I’m not going to make the same mistake that I’d made with JJ Redick. I owed him a national championship. Not the other way around. I owed him. He should never have been 90% of our offense. Kyle, I made you a promise. I told you, when I was recruiting you, that you would become a National Player of the Year for Duke. And you will. But in order to develop you . . in order to prolong your life from all those goons out there . . I have to give you a better low-post player than I have so far. Lance Thomas is . . well, let’s not go there. Brian Zoubek is still, alarmingly, light years away. You need help now – and I can’t give that to you. I can’t protect you against a bruising 23 year old such as Tyler Hansborough. And now . . now the kid that I would’ve loved to come in and learn from you have gone somewhere else. Isn’t Florida all out of scholarships??? #$&^!*&@#!?!!
But, hey . . not every kid is a Duke kid. Not every kid is going to say, “Duke was my first – and only – choice.” No. We’ll be alright. Next play.
“I’ll be back.”
Those words echoed in his ear. In the era of one-and-done’s . . to hear your best player tell you, emphatically, that he’s coming back . . that’s something, isn’t it? And the team . . they’ve just won their first ACC road game tonight. They are ranked top 7 in both polls. They are 1 point away from being undefeated – isn’t that enough? Isn’t that a testament to some kind of success? Sure, there were some bad turnovers tonight. And 3 point shooting wasn’t great. But that’s all for tomorrow. Let the worries come tomorrow. Tonight? Let’s just enjoy this. Let’s enjoy what we have, rather than what we don’t have. Best of luck to Erik Murphy. But (aside from joining a club with 6 legit big guys playing in front of him) – he’s missing out on this. On the sound of Taylor King, 2,000 miles from home, but with not a care in the world, rapping with the best of them . . until Nolan Smith tackles him from behind, pulling the blue hood over his eyes, their incessant laughter catching as Gerald joins them . . and Kyle Singler, his eyes closed, his voice quieting as he listened to his brother thousands of miles away . . but his grin, his sleepy, wide-toothed grin, said it all. As the bus rolled on into the night . . somewhere between Tallahassee and Durham, beamed the smile of a boy, right at home.
Jan 3: 6’10” 5-star John Henson (2009) commits to Carolina.
Jan 4: 6’9” 4-star twins Travis and David Wear (2009), former teammates of Taylor King, commits to Carolina.
Jan 9: 6’5” 5-star Reggie Bullock (2010), commits to Carolina.
Jan 13: 6’3” 5-star Dexter Strickland (2009), playing in the Nike Super 6 at MSG, commits to Carolina.
Then, on Jan 16: 6’10” 4-star Erik Murphy (2009), one of 4 highly coveted Duke recruits, commits to Florida . . without even a single Duke visit.
Son of a b**ch.
Al Featherston on DBR tries to allay the fears, reminding us that “Many - maybe most - of K’s major recruiting victories have been as good as advertised. That string of great players stretches from Johnny Dawkins to Danny Ferry to Grant Hill to Elton Brand to Shane Battier to Jason Williams to J.J. Redick to Luol Deng . . .
. . . to Kyle Singler.”
Oh, lord.
You don’t know, what you’ve got, do you? Seeing his name up there, alongside the greats . . I was totally unexpecting it. Recruiting is all about looking forward, to the next big thing, the next one, the next one. But what about our current roster? How about G? Scheyer? . . Kyle? Last night, his face was black and blue – an ugly gash right under his right eye, a cut above his eyebrow that had required stitches 2 months ago and was just healing up – and now his chin was cut open, bleeding only a few seconds ago. Oh Kyle. We are so lucky to have you. When Duke was on the ropes, when it could do nothing as its pretty lead all but vanished . . who puts us on his back? Who steps up to the 3 point line and demands the ball for a point-blank shot? To see him, putting his arms around his teammates in the huddle . . to hear him say, someone’s got to do it, we might be thin up front but we’re gonna do team defense and someone’s got to step up. I’ll do it. I don’t mind. I never signed on to play the 5, but . . I’ll do this. For Duke.
“I’ll be back.”
It’s been an eventful night. Scheyer went absolutely ballistic on Florida State, playing like an all-world, playing like a kid with a slingshot who’d just figured out what he can do with it, and gleefully running around, snickering. They are all ribbing on him, teasing him, mimicking his moves, laughing and having a good time in the back of the bus. Coach K looks back at them – a wide grin on his face. His young team had faced a tough road opponent tonight, the same opponent that had gone into LittleJohn and pushed Clemson into double OT – and he knew what this win meant to them.
Believe me, there was a reason why he didn’t schedule any “true” road games earlier in the season. A reason that no one else knew about. It was games like these, that sometimes tries his patience as a Hall of Fame coach. He needs to maintain composure – he’s got to remember that. But it kills him, when opposing fans cannot appreciate the hard work and effort that his kids had just put forth tonight. No matter the win – no matter if it was a loss or draw – whatever – any basketball player, should deserve more respect and more courtesy than the s*** doled out to his team tonight. No matter who you are – no matter what's on the front of your jersey – hey. These kids are putting their life on the line for you. For your enjoyment. They are sacrificing their bodies. They are sacrificing their time and effort and heart. The least you can do is show some respect. You don’t need to throw things. You don’t need to hijack the ESPN broadcast to show your dirty mouth to the world. Some of the stuff that the kids said . . my God. That was why Coach K was on the sidelines, putting his arm around Greg, pulling his eyes down. Don’t look at the students. They don’t deserve your attention. Look at me. Look at the person who believes in you. Sometimes, Greg, it’s us against the world.
So they are pulling out of the arena, onto the highway to the airport. The night is dark, 10pm, and they stop by to grab food before heading to the terminal. “Away” games are the toughest when they are on Wednesday nights, because you have to jet in on Tuesday, then miss an entire day of classes on Wednesday as you practice and scout. On Thursday, you’re tired, still shot with adrenaline, and looking forward to Friday already. But that is the life of a student-athlete. And when he looks back on them . . when he sits in his seat and reclines back and can almost close his eyes to the blissful sounds of laughter and teasing and the awful rap noises Taylor King was making to accompany Nolan Smith’s bass-voiced play by play of Scheyer’s 21 points in 75 seconds against the Noles . .
He can almost see them, each one clearly, without even having to turn around and open his eyes. They were there, in his mind – the result of months of hard recruiting and then weeks and months and for some of them 3 and a half years of daily practices and dinners and one-on-ones, to ingrain them in his mind. Their smiles. Their frowns. Their wide eyes . . tired breaths . . and their brilliance, that bounce in their steps, once they got it. Oh, and they got it tonight. Those first half minutes, when they went on that 16-0 tear – he had so wanted to run out on the court to join them. How much fun was Scheyer having? The smarts, the court vision, the stunning awareness! How much of an improvement had Taylor King made over the last couple of games? Nolan Smith? And Kyle Singler. Oy! How clutch, was that 3 point shot? Of all the 3 point specialists on the team . . for him, to want it! A 6’8” freshman!
But then comes the call that can ice your heart. Erik Murphy is on the other line. His voice is scratchy . . hello coach . . I’m calling to let you know . . um . . well . . I’m sorry, coach. I was very interested in Duke University. I’ve really thought it through. But, in the end . . my gut tells me, Florida. I know I’ll fit right in with their style of play. Yes . . yes, I know. I’m sorry, coach. I really am . . . Okay. Thank you. Best of luck.”
Click.
The noise has died down. The kids have scooted back into their seats, starting to feel the drag of the long night ahead of them, many pulling on their earphones. In the silence, Coach K could still hear one voice: Kyle Singler, talking on the phone to his parents in Oregon. The snippets of conversation wafted slowly towards the front of the bus. “I’m fine, mom . . really, it’s no big deal, it’s already healed! . . haha, okay . . oh, did you see that dunk by G?? Off that missed free-throw? No?? That was sick! . . hey EJ . . how was your game last night? . . . ”
Silently, Coach K leans forward until his forehead rests on his knuckles, squeezing his eyes tight. It is all he can do to keep his emotions inside. Kyle Singler. I have to surround you with better talent. I just have to. I’m not going to make the same mistake that I’d made with JJ Redick. I owed him a national championship. Not the other way around. I owed him. He should never have been 90% of our offense. Kyle, I made you a promise. I told you, when I was recruiting you, that you would become a National Player of the Year for Duke. And you will. But in order to develop you . . in order to prolong your life from all those goons out there . . I have to give you a better low-post player than I have so far. Lance Thomas is . . well, let’s not go there. Brian Zoubek is still, alarmingly, light years away. You need help now – and I can’t give that to you. I can’t protect you against a bruising 23 year old such as Tyler Hansborough. And now . . now the kid that I would’ve loved to come in and learn from you have gone somewhere else. Isn’t Florida all out of scholarships??? #$&^!*&@#!?!!
But, hey . . not every kid is a Duke kid. Not every kid is going to say, “Duke was my first – and only – choice.” No. We’ll be alright. Next play.
“I’ll be back.”
Those words echoed in his ear. In the era of one-and-done’s . . to hear your best player tell you, emphatically, that he’s coming back . . that’s something, isn’t it? And the team . . they’ve just won their first ACC road game tonight. They are ranked top 7 in both polls. They are 1 point away from being undefeated – isn’t that enough? Isn’t that a testament to some kind of success? Sure, there were some bad turnovers tonight. And 3 point shooting wasn’t great. But that’s all for tomorrow. Let the worries come tomorrow. Tonight? Let’s just enjoy this. Let’s enjoy what we have, rather than what we don’t have. Best of luck to Erik Murphy. But (aside from joining a club with 6 legit big guys playing in front of him) – he’s missing out on this. On the sound of Taylor King, 2,000 miles from home, but with not a care in the world, rapping with the best of them . . until Nolan Smith tackles him from behind, pulling the blue hood over his eyes, their incessant laughter catching as Gerald joins them . . and Kyle Singler, his eyes closed, his voice quieting as he listened to his brother thousands of miles away . . but his grin, his sleepy, wide-toothed grin, said it all. As the bus rolled on into the night . . somewhere between Tallahassee and Durham, beamed the smile of a boy, right at home.
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