Fist fights in the sand lot
Art Heyman and Larry Brown grew up together: Heyman in Oceanside, New York, and Brown in Long Beach. They competed on the playground across the street from the bakery that was owned by Brown’s grandfather. Even though they were just kids, this was fierce competition on a very high level. Because of this, only the best young players could play on these uneven courts. Maybe you could never tell that Art and Larry were actually close friends. Both boys were tough and mean, and even then there were fistfights, but there was also respect for each other. In fact, they were chased by Frank McGuire in North Carolina until they both agreed to play for him. That was until Duke came on the scene. But that is another story for another day. Suffice to say, this pairing was as tough as New York can produce, and an unleashed Heyman was a terrifying prospect for any opposing team. He proved it at Duke for a very satisfied Coach Bubas.
the magnificent warrior
In the bleak and murderous north St. Louis neighborhood where Chris Carrawell grew up, he recalls three shootings in one summer, a scenario he said he wouldn’t dare wish on many people. “Learn to defend mine” was his 11th Commandment. “My basketball was my thing; I had to fight older guys to keep it from me,” says Carrawell. Carrawell had no one else to defend him when he was a child. His father didn’t exist, he was the man of the house, and most of the time it seemed no one cared if he would ever enjoy a shred of success doing anything anywhere.
He claims that the only reason he and his siblings were able to do it was their mother’s harshness. “She kept us in church, she was very religious,” he says. “To see her be there for us every day and keep us away from things that you can counteract growing up in the neighborhood that we grew up in. She was the strongest person I know to this day.” And thanks to her, Carrawell became excellent at the one thing in which he could excel above all others: basketball.
He had some serious injuries, one might even have questioned why Mike Krzyewski pursued Carrawell for Duke, knowing he may have chronic issues. Maybe it was the boy’s fighting spirit, his refusal to back down. Well, in any case, Coach K’s gamble paid off and Carrawell became a giant slayer. At just 6’6″ and 215, he was assigned to Tim Duncan in college and guarded him well. However, he was also the backup point guard and was usually assigned the other team’s best perimeter shooter. In the end, Coach K called to Carrawell “the magnificent warrior”, and it was a fitting title for a young man who never gave up, who gave his last ounce of effort in every game, who had learned to stay fresh even in the most pressured of playing conditions.
When Daniel stopped crying
A native of Missouri City, Texas, Daniel Ewing grew up in a large and competitive family with some heartless older brothers. When they played basketball as a family, you’d think Daniel’s brothers would give him a break, give him a break, a free throw or two. But no way. Ewing was tortured, beaten, shoved and shoved until he ran to his father crying for compassion. With indifference, his father used to say simply, “Come back and stop crying…” So Daniel learned to fight with all his heart for every rebound, every possession, every shot, and in the process, became one of the best high school players in America. As a shooter and point guard at Duke, Ewing was involved in more wins than any other player in the nation. He seemed mild-mannered, but that was what he believed in the extreme effort he expended in every game and as team captain for two years.
competitive as they come
At first glance, Bobby Hurley looked like a short, pale 15-year-old boy with a smug pout. But woe to the basketball coaches and players who underestimated him on the court! Hurley’s father was a successful high school basketball coach and both he and his son were very competitive. This resulted in some cutthroat one-on-one games between the two while Bobby was still in elementary and high school. Hurley Sr. was almost inhumane in the little things he did to make Bobby nervous or take him off his game, to undermine his confidence. Eventually, he couldn’t get in his son’s head anymore and Bobby graduated to inner city court. He was sometimes the only white kid on the courts. If he lost a game, he was likely to wait at least an hour before getting another chance. Eventually, Bobby’s teams almost always won. He arguably became the greatest point guard to ever play for Duke and still holds the NCAA career assist record of 1076. He was good for two national championships.
Some critics act as if only the rich and privileged kids who grew up playing on gold-plated hard courts end up at Duke. But it is only children who have the best brains in the nation. Or it’s just those who worship at the massive Krzyewski Shrine perched in the middle of the Durham campus. No. Many of Duke’s best players came up the hard way, fighting and scraping their way against equally determined players on cement roads and blacktop courts from the St. Louis slums to the New York City boroughs. .