Play Their Hearts Out

by George Dohrmann

  As the crowd at Dominguez’s gym roared—even the home fans appreciated a phenomenal dunk—Demetrius landed and then stepped toward Tommy. He reached out his right hand and pulled Tommy up, then slapped him on the butt. “Let’s go! Let’s go!” he shouted, and then he scowled at the Dominguez player who’d dared to try to block his teammate’s shot. “That’s right! That’s right!” he yelled at him, nodding his head emphatically.

  By that brisk night in February when Demetrius and JSerra faced Dominguez in the third round of the Southern Section playoffs, I had seen Demetrius play in a game or practice more than 170 times, including a half dozen instances during his junior season at JSerra. The ways he had changed as a person and a player were too vast to list, but one of the most recent developments was that he cared less about the outcomes of games. He was content to score a lot, as if tallying a high point total was more important than doing what was necessary to get a win. Somebody had to score for JSerra, and he took enough shots that 20 points was the baseline and 30 points was expected. When the team lost—and they did nine times during the regular season—he referred to his point total as proof that it wasn’t his fault.

  In December, in the Ocean View Tournament of Champions, Demetrius had scored 25 points against Compton High, but USC signee DeMar DeRozan answered with 45, a career high, including the game-winning shot with six seconds left. In JSerra’s two losses to rival Mater Dei, Demetrius scored aplenty, but it was others who influenced the game. In the second of those contests, a 15-point Mater Dei victory in January, Gary Franklin, Jr., made eight 3-pointers and scored 30 points. He also smothered Tommy defensively, to the point that Demetrius had to bring the ball upcourt to ease the pressure on him. “Man, I scored twenty, it wasn’t my fault,” Demetrius said afterward, which was something Gary would have never said had Mater Dei been defeated.

  Against Dominguez, though, a different Demetrius came forth. Perhaps he was shaken by the realization that, if JSerra lost, then the season would be over. Or maybe he was driven by the opportunity to best Jordan Hamilton, the temperamental kid who Gary Franklin, Sr., once kicked off the Runnin’ Rebels but who was now six foot seven and ranked among the top 15 players in the country. He was still fiery and good for a few outbursts a game, but he was also a star, headed to the University of Texas if he got his academics in order. (Had Aaron still been at Dominguez, the game would have carried even more weight, but he dropped out of school before the playoffs and his whereabouts were unknown.)

  Winning, and only winning, was Demetrius’s goal from the opening tip, and he played like it was the seventh grade all over again. He scored 17 points in the first quarter, an average of better than a basket a minute, as JSerra jumped to a 23–15 lead. Most amazing was his efficiency. He took only eight shots, making six, and was fouled on the two misses. At the free-throw line, he converted all four of his attempts. It was as perfect a quarter as anyone could play, and the best part was how he lifted his teammates. When Tommy committed back-to-back turnovers six minutes into the game, Demetrius didn’t roll his eyes or look to Lewis to sub him out. He clapped his hands and urged Tommy to continue on. Casey twice missed open 3-pointers that Demetrius created by driving and dishing to him, but rather than sulk, Demetrius sprinted back on defense.

  Demetrius’s dunk off Tommy’s missed layup put JSerra in the lead, 35–30, but the most promising sign was how he helped up Tommy and then stood up for him against the Dominguez guard. He hadn’t been given an ideal set of teammates to take on Dominguez and Hamilton; the Dons were far more athletic and could blow past Tommy and Casey and others. But if Chris Gabriel continued to rebound and defend the basket and Demetrius kept scoring, JSerra had a chance.

  But working against that chance was Lewis, who over the course of the season had proven himself to be an inconsistent tactician. Going with a zone defense looked, on the surface, to be the right way to overcome Dominguez’s athletic advantage, but it hurt more than it helped. It was a matchup zone, meaning one player—Casey—played man-to-man against Hamilton, with the others guarding quadrants of the court. Lewis termed this defense “Rover” and implemented it days before the game. JSerra was accustomed to playing man-to-man or a conventional 2-3 zone, so in addition to taking on a very talented team, they had to learn a new defense. The fundamental flaw in this approach was that Casey simply wasn’t athletic enough.

  Hamilton was what coaches called a “slasher,” and the best way to defend a slasher is to never let him get moving toward the basket. When Taft High played Dominguez during the 2007–08 season, Justin had drawn the task of guarding Hamilton. “You just need to be real physical with him, grab and hold him, and let him know he isn’t going to get to the basket,” Justin said. “He is in love with his jump shot, so you give him that. He takes more and more three-pointers and, unless he is really hot, that hurts his team.” In the second of the two matchups between Taft and Dominguez, Justin held Hamilton to two points in the first half. Dominguez was still in the game to start the second, but then, on three consecutive possessions, Justin forced Hamilton into turnovers. On the last, he picked him cleanly and drove in for a dunk, to which Hamilton responded by pulling off his headband and throwing it onto his team’s bench. “I was so in his head that he worried about looking bad,” Justin said. “When he gets like that, it’s game over.”

  Casey worked hard and his fundamentals were sound, but he wasn’t the same caliber of defender as Justin. If Lewis was intent on playing the matchup zone, Demetrius was the only player capable of marking Hamilton. JSerra needed Demetrius to provide much of its offense, however, so Lewis didn’t want him to expend too much energy on defense.

  The flaw in Lewis’s strategy was exposed immediately. Hamilton got past Casey and into the lane and drove into Chris, drawing foul after foul. Chris was five inches taller than Hamilton, Dominguez’s tallest player, and when Chris got the ball on the low block he couldn’t be stopped. The only way Dominguez was going to take him out of the game was by putting him in foul trouble, which Hamilton did in the first few minutes. Dominguez might have run away with it, but Demetrius kept JSerra in the lead, and his support of Tommy, Casey, and others elevated their play as well. He was once again the tap from which his teammates drew their strength.

  As the second half started, Hamilton got free from Casey and made a 3-pointer to tie the score 35–35. Lewis called the team out of the zone and placed Demetrius on Hamilton. After cruising past Casey for most of the game, Hamilton wasn’t prepared for this change. He drove hard to his right, but Demetrius cut him off and Hamilton barreled over him, picking up his third foul. The fans behind JSerra’s bench applauded along with Demetrius, as it appeared to swing the momentum to the Lions. Not a minute later, however, Chris picked up his fourth foul when he awkwardly stepped in front of a driving player and was whistled for a trip.

  Lewis ordered his players back into the matchup zone, and Hamilton quickly put Dominguez up by 9. Demetrius responded by sparking an 18–4 run to end the third quarter, scoring 8 of those points. He also assisted on two other baskets by Alec Williams, JSerra’s burly power forward, including the final score of the quarter on a fast break that put the Lions ahead 55–50 going into the final eight minutes.

  Chris reentered the game at the start of the fourth quarter, and for a brief spell he became the focal point, but then he picked up his fifth foul with 5:31 left and JSerra up by 4. Hamilton then scored on back-to-back possessions, both on drives to the basket, to tie the score 63–63 with just under three minutes remaining.

  Demetrius had 29 points to Hamilton’s 28, and it would have been hard to declare a winner in their individual matchup. Both were electrifying and dogged, and each showed why he was considered a future college player. If anything, Demetrius deserved the edge: He had done more with less, given the limitations of his teammates. The game would come down to which star made the crucial play in the final minutes, and Demetrius was given the first chance. With 2:13 remaining and the score still tied, h
e got the ball from Tommy on the left side with Dominguez’s Myron Green shadowing him. Green had defended Demetrius for most of the game, and he looked worn down by the experience. As Demetrius made his move to the hoop, Green lunged at him, and Demetrius went by quickly. Two defenders rotated over, and Demetrius wisely bounced the ball through traffic to Alec, who was alone on the right side. Rather than simply lay the ball in, Alec tried for a thunderous dunk, but he lost the ball as he brought it down, and it ricocheted off the back of the rim. In the scrum for the rebound, a Dominguez player was fouled, and he made two free throws with 2:11 on the clock, to give Dominguez its first lead since the third quarter.

  Demetrius brought the ball upcourt, relieving Tommy of ballhandling duties at this key moment in the game. He patiently got JSerra into its offense and the ball was rotated around, but Demetrius made sure to get it back atop the key as the clock wound down. He dribbled in on Green, and then he turned and began backing him closer to the hoop. For much of the game, this had been an effective strategy, as Demetrius used his leaping ability to hit a turnaround jumper or got Green on his hip and bounced around him. Demetrius got within ten feet of the basket, and then Dominguez coach Russell Otis shouted “Double!” and two defenders moved toward Demetrius. One of them was the player marking Tommy, and as his man rolled toward Demetrius, Tommy moved to an open space just behind the 3-point line. Demetrius waited until the defenders were on him and then bounced a perfect pass to Tommy, who stood wide open.

  Tommy’s shot still had a bit of a lunge to it—it was nowhere near the textbook jump shot Scott Jaimet wrote about—but his release was solid. As the ball arced toward the rim, it looked good all the way, yet Demetrius still fought through four Dominguez defenders to get just under the basket. He had a clear look as the ball rattled inside the rim, popped up, then came down against the back of the rim and bounced out and to the left, too far for him to retrieve. He chased after it anyway, as did Alec, and that put both of them out of position as a Dominguez guard corralled the ball and led a fast break that ended with another layup and a 4-point Dominguez edge.

  On the ensuing possession, Demetrius refused to give the ball up and drove wildly to the basket. Fortunately, he was fouled, and he made two free throws with 1:17 on the clock to bring the deficit back to 2.

  Lewis put JSerra in a full-court press, but Dominguez broke it in eleven seconds, and a guard scored yet another uncontested layup. The ensuing inbounds pass should have gone to Demetrius and he was calling for the ball, but Casey was closer and Alec passed the ball to him. As Casey turned upcourt, he cut quickly and lost the ball out of bounds. JSerra fouled to prolong the game, but Dominguez made their free throws and won 75–68.

  As the game ended—as Demetrius’s junior season came to a close—fans from both teams flooded the court. One by one, the Dominguez players and their supporters approached Demetrius and hugged him or slapped his hand. He looked each person in the eyes. “Thank you, thank you,” he said. He eventually moved past them, reaching the end of the stands where a narrow passage led to a door and the visitors’ locker room. He got halfway to the exit but then bent over, placing his hands on his knees. After a few seconds he stood up, and tears were rolling down his cheeks. He quickly took off his jersey and used it to cover his face. He bent over again, holding the jersey over his face with both hands, and his body shook as he wept. Fans in the bleachers above him shouted encouragements. “You did all you could,” one said. Another yelled: “You played your heart out, Demetrius.”

  For several moments he remained there, crying into his jersey, as the praise rained down on him.

  33

  Demetrius Walker (#3) huddling with his SCA teammates

  The swan song to Demetrius’s grassroots experience came in July in Las Vegas. Like the majority of the former Team Cal kids, he played for a team in the Adidas Super 64, one of the three big shoe-company-sponsored tournaments held simultaneously that week. It marked the end of an eight-year passage through the youth basketball machine, and that milestone touched the boys in different ways. Justin was pensive as he talked about his last go-round with Compton Magic. “It would be cool if the last memory we had was of winning this tournament,” he said. “But mostly I’m just gonna enjoy playing with everyone one last time. We’ve been through a lot together.” For Demetrius, the finality of the moment brought trepidation. He didn’t have his future sewn up as Justin did, and the Super 64 was his last opportunity to impress the recruiters and the scouting services, a final lunge toward his dream. He could redefine his legacy with a great week, completing the phenom-to-flop-to-phenom narrative, but he wavered at the thought of more judgment. “I wanna play. I know it’s important,” he said. “But to be honest, I wish it was already over.”

  Andrew, Jordan, and Terran were also hoping to enhance their prospects, and there were rumors that Aaron and Rome would be arriving in Las Vegas, said to be playing for one team or another. And then there was Roberto, who snubbed Nike and joined Justin on the Compton Magic, surrounding himself with players and parents he knew for his final grassroots event. He would be one of the most watched players in Las Vegas—the top college coaches would line the walls of the gym every time he played—and yet he couldn’t have cared less. “I shot a seventy-eight the other day,” he said upon seeing me in the gym for his first game. “I’m playing like Tiger [Woods] right now.”

  Also among the assemblage in Las Vegas were some nervous grassroots coaches, who spoke with great concern about the future of youth basketball. Three months earlier, at the Final Four, NBA commissioner David Stern and NCAA president Miles Brand announced a “youth basketball initiative” and pledged $30 million in seed money to remake the grassroots game, citing a need to fix the corrupted system. Many AAU coaches worried that this would drastically alter the landscape in which they operated. One theory went like this: The NBA would set up basketball youth academies in major cities, tying them to professional teams, as they do in Europe. The best players would matriculate to these academies, where they would get good coaching and an education and be shielded from middlemen like Joe Keller and Pat Barrett. Stern and Brand did not specifically mention this setup, and their plan was light on details in general. Other than the promise of a website, they gave no hint of how they would bring about change. But they swore that reform was coming, and that scared some of the men whose livelihoods depended on the status quo.

  The most savvy among them, however, knew there was nothing to fear. The greatest indicator that this “initiative” lacked initiative was that Stern and Brand said they were counting on the shoe companies to work together to help change the culture of youth basketball. Stern included representatives from Nike and Adidas in summit-like talks on the state of the game and talked as if those two companies were partners. “They are willing to step back and do something that is not bad for business but good for basketball,” he said. Former Georgetown coach John Thompson, a member of Nike’s board of directors, was “sitting and laughing” when he heard Stern and Brand say they were counting on Nike and Adidas to work together. “The shoe companies are businesses. Nike doesn’t want Adidas to do well,” he said on his radio show. “They want relationships with players. That’s what they do.”

  Allowing the shoe companies to help them remake youth basketball was like asking the beef industry to promote vegetarianism. There was no incentive for them to change, and so they would not. The wheels of the grassroots machine, as long as they were greased by shoe-company dollars, would continue to churn unabated.

  Prior to arriving in Las Vegas for the Super 64, Demetrius played with SCA in several spring tournaments, and he built on the strong play that ended his high school season. He performed like one of the best guards in the country, particularly in a tournament in Denver, where he averaged 33 points a game. His confidence was higher than it had been in years, as evidenced by the new answer tone to his cell phone, a song by Lupe Fiasco called “Superstar.”

  In late April, Demetrius c
alled with news that appeared to confirm his return to elite status: “Indiana offered me a scholarship!” Unlike with other supposed “offers” that had been filtered through Barrett, Demetrius had spoken to Indiana coach Tom Crean. “He said that he wanted me to come there and be the face of the program. He said that I reminded him of Dwyane Wade. He said he wants me to be the Dwyane Wade of Indiana, and that he would convert me to a combo guard—that I would play shooting guard and some point guard. Indiana is a big-time program. I know they are not very good right now, but Crean is a good coach and I can go there and play as a freshman. They need players who can play right away. I know it’s a lot of pressure, but there has been a lot of pressure on my back my whole life.”

  SCA was scheduled to play in a tournament in Indianapolis in May, and the plan was for Demetrius to visit Indiana’s campus the day after the tournament and verbally commit on the spot.

  “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I am going to commit to Indiana,” he said. “The more I think about it, I know that it’s the perfect place for me. I can get away from [Southern California] and all the shit that people put on me here and just start new. I can’t believe it is happening. Man, I’m so excited. I’m going to Indiana!”

  SCA traveled to Indianapolis for the tournament, but, for reasons unclear to Demetrius, Barrett never took him to Indiana’s campus fifty-two miles south in Bloomington. Upon returning to California, Barrett told Demetrius that the Hoosiers were no longer interested in him. “The [Indiana] coaches thought you were in the class of 2008,” Barrett said. “They need guards now, not in a year.” Demetrius didn’t understand. How could they have thought he was a grade older? And even if they needed guards now, why did that kill their interest in him for later?

  A few weeks later, another SCA player, Malik Story, signed a letter of intent with Indiana. Story was a grade older that Demetrius and had once committed to USC, but the Trojans were rumored to have lost interest in him, and so he became the rare kid still looking for a scholarship late in his senior year. Story’s father was on Barrett’s payroll and was one of his closest associates. “Pat needed to find [Malik] a spot, so he did at the expense of Demetrius,” Sonny Vaccaro speculated. Demetrius also suspected foul play, although he didn’t immediately finger Barrett. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said. “Coach Crean was super-interested, and then all of sudden he doesn’t want me at all. I know it wasn’t ’cuz I played bad [in Indianapolis]. I played good. And I know I played better than Malik.”