u
A C
e O |_ L E o
Sports Review
APRIL 1993
EDITOR & PUBLISHER
Ernest H. Pitt
PRODUCTION
Da6on*Hoft*y<
Kjtfy Lm
STAFF WRITERS
Barry Coopar
Unprton Wwu. Jr.
PHOTOGRAPHERS
Carrie* Mahona
The Central Saga
N.C. Central reached for new heights when no one
thought reaching anything above a .500 record wm much ?
a possibility. In March, the Eagles made the Elite Eight
of the NCAA Division n Tournament - D2's version of
die Final Four - before losing to eventual national cham
pion Cal-State Bakersfield, the only unbeaten team in the
country in any division.
But when the *92-93 college basketball season
began, about the only place fans and media thought that
Central might be going in March was on spring break.
The Eagles, one of the nation's smaller teams - no
one on the team is taller than 6-6 - were without their
best big man, Stephen Birchette. They were also coming
off a 13-13 season. Some people expected a little
improvement. A little, don't get too excited. That seemed
to be the message around Durham: "We'll be, ah, OK."
But then tragedy struck.
Birchette dies a fipu weeks prior to the start of the
year, die to a vicious asthma attack. CIAA coaches
picked the Eagles coach Greg Jackson, beginning his
second year, to finish fourth, or worst, in the league's
Southern Division. Bui with Birchette not playing now,
the forecast was gettfc^woracr^ .
The message changed now among Central support
ers: "We'll be OK ... "Next year." ~
One writer who covers the league said, "Central will
be lucky to win five games this year."
Five games?
Who expected the Eagles to do well? Not too many
people.
Well, not many except the guys who matter most,
the players and the coach. Their message was: "We're
gonna be good this year*"
Believe it or not <
"I work hard and we have a good coaching staff,"
said Eagles coach Greg Jackson. I believe whatever you
put into anything is what you get out of it. I thought we'd
have an excellent season."
His optimism, of course, was based on his knowl
edge of what he'd put into the program. What else could
he have but a good season, this was his thinking. Really,
it was.
Jackson and his assistants had hit the road in the
sppng and summer of '92 and found a few junior college
players who they thought could have an immediate
impact on the program.
Bleu Oliver was one of those assistants. Oliver had
played for Johnson C. Smith, but now worked at Central,
and when heiound two diamonds in the rough Washing
ton-area juco league, he sent 6-1 guard Jimmie Walker, a
speedy, gritty type with a touch as soft as Charmin, and
Please see page 6
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PHOTO CREDITS: Covaf story photo by NavWa J Oubra HI Othars am Wade Nash.
Joa Daniato and Mark Oa?
BCSR la a supplamant to fhase nawspapars: Attanta Voice. The Butetm. Baltimore
Afro-American, Bator Rouge Commur.iy Leader. Birmingham Times. Carolina Peace
maker, Carolina Times Charleston Cfi wdr, Dallas Examiner. Iredell County News.
Metro County Courier. PhHade*oh?a r~bcne. Pittsburgh Courier. Richmond Atro- Amer
ican, Washington Af'o-Arre'-car. arc rVinston -Salem Chronicle
In College Athletics,
? And we've come to the end of the road . . .
And I can't let go . . .
It's a natural thing.
The pop music group Boyz II Men sang those words
in their big hit, "End of the road/* and indeed those
words ring too true for many of the country's better col
lege basketball players, from Valapraiso to Virginia
Union.
For the majority of the seniors, the ones not named
Bobby Hurley or Calbert Cheaney, the NOAA champi
onships represent March Madness, basketball mania at
its finest, but they can also represent, as the Boyz say.
The End of the Road,
It's the end of being the big man on campus, the end
of girls yelling out your name, the end of being local, or
possibly, a national media figure.
You try to guess if it's not hard to let go off all that.
'That's extremely tough on any player at any level,"
said Johnson C. Smith men's basketball coach Steve
Joyner. "What you would hope is that the player has pre
pared hinuelLfor that and I think that the coach is
responsible Tor that - to help prepare the student-athlete
for that particular day. But that goes back to the pro
gram's philosophy and goals, that education is first and
basketball is temporary. "Education," Joyner said, "is for
life."
Still, there are many who don't listen.
Paul isn't really his name, but does his name really
matter? He was an all-conference player two years ago in
the CIAA and he spoke to BCSR only under the condi
tion that his name nor his school's name to be use^^n^
this piece. So we'll call him Paul.
"When I was playing," Paul said, "I thought I was
invincible. I thought I couldn't get hurt and I thought I'd
* play in the NBA. It's like a never-ending joy ride."
But Paul wasn't going to the NBA. He'd averaged a
lot of points in the CIAA, but plenty of 6-2 guys score 20
points a game across the country. Paul said he under
stands it now, but then thought he was different, that
something about his jump shot and his dunking ability
was a little flashier than all the rest.
"I just knew I was going pro," Paul said.
Paul's life in college was pretty much like this. He'd '
go to class when he felt like it He said his teachers were
sometimes "encouraged to help me out by changing a D
to a C. They gave me, you know, the benefit of the
doubt."
Paul said he slept with about three different ladiesa
week, even though he had a girlfriend during the entire
time he was in college. Everyone on his college campus,
he said, he was popular in the community. His name was
in the local newspapers.
"It was like a drug or something really," he said. "I
mean, you had to have it. You thrived on it. And I was
large. Who wouldn't want to be large like that? Every
one knew me."
But then, came the end oi his senior season. He was
just a regular guy now. He' wasn't drafted into the NBA.
His name wasn't in the paper anymore. He had a pro try
out, but it didn't work out.
He thought about getting a job but needed five class
es to graduate. His grade point average, even with the
"little benefits of the doubt," was about 1.4. He was in
trouble.
"1 sat in my room one day and cried," he said. "My
girlfriend left me. The other girls who used to be on my
jock (show interest towards him), they stopped coming
around. Even my boys started tripping."
Paul went to summer school, but dropped out. He
dabbled in cocaine for about a week. Then he went home
to Mama.
Today, Paul is a dock worker at a trucking company
It could be anyone
' i ^
in his North- B
jn^his North
ern home
town. He lifts
50-poun'd
boxes for 8
hours a day.
Sometimes,
someone will
recognize him
at work.
They'll ask
him if he
played bas
ketball once.
Yeah, lie tetts ?
them, once he
- ? r H
1
? -? %/nwc nc
was playing in
big Coliseums in front of 10,000 people, playing for the
CIAA championships, playing in the NCAA Tourna
ment.
Today, Paul now plays his ball in the park in front of
5 or 6 guys waiting for next up.
"It was all there for me. 1 had a free education that I
_should've taken advantage of," Paul said "I didn'L One
day, though, I'm going back to finish up. I can't take this '
kind of life much longer.'* >
The message here, and Steve Joyner said it needs to
be clearly hammered home, is that even if you think
you're going to school, "you need to go ahead and take
advantage of the free education."
j Basketball is only temporary.
Education is forever.
"The ones who take advantage and make the adjust
ment are the one who are better off," Joyner said. One of
his former players, Mike Sherrill, is now playing in Aus
tralia.
Shenill is the second-leading scorer in Johnson C.
Smith history. He was the CIAA's rookie of the year as a
freshman and was all-conference every year he played.
Once, former Charlotte Hornets coach Gene Little said
Sherrill reminded him of former NBA great Adrian
; Dan t ley.
Still, Sherrill wasn't drafted by the NBA. He got a
few try outs and a brief stint in the now-defunct Global
Basketball Association. Now, he's in Australia. He's
playing but he's not happy.
But Sherrill graduated from Smith with a degree in
sociology. Unlike Paul, Sherrill has an alternate route.
He doesn't have to lift boxes for a living.
"Mark's not 100% satisfied," Joyner said. "He's
saying, 'Coach, I'm thinking about coming homfe and
using my degree." ; i
Joyner said it's important for players to know that
The End of the Road can come one day. He said he told
Sherrill constantly that it might.
Joyner thinks that's helped his ex-star.
"If you don't tell them, sometimes kids can turn to
other ways of life," Joyner said. "To drugs, to ami-social
behaviors, just a whole realm of things can happen.
That's where the coach has to maintain his integrity. If
you get a player of mine who says we've not preached to
them to pursue an education first then I'm hypocritical
and I have an empty philosophy."
"But I think kids have to take responsibility, too."
Joyner added. "Parents are responsible, too. But coaches
are, too. If you go back and look at the Bighouse Gaines'
and the John McClendons, these guys were father-fig
ures. We need to maintain that."
We need to maintain that dearly. No one needs to
find The End of the Road.
It's only a dead end. , ...
? By Langaton Wertz