Long, lean legend of Anthony Davis
NEW ORLEANS — Hello, Final Four Legends Department? We might have a new inductee headed your way. Tall kid. You’ll be able to recognize him by his Kentucky uniform and arms the length of boa constrictors. Anthony Davis is the name. You’ll no doubt notice his wingspan. He can stand at the free throw line and touch the tuba player.
We’re seeing something special here. We’re seeing a freshman on the verge of owning a Final Four, even though he takes a shot maybe once every five minutes. Even though he just turned 19.
OK, freshmen doing big things nowadays is as common as the cheerleaders doing back flips. Especially at Kentucky, where even the Wildcats mascot is probably a one-and-doner. But do you realize only two freshmen have been named Most Outstanding Player at the Final Four? Syracuse’s Carmelo Anthony in 2003, Louisville’s Pervis Ellison in 1986.
Look what Davis did against Louisville. He gobbled up shots like the upper deck gobbled up hot dogs, blocking some and turning the trajectory of others into punts. That, plus 18 points and 14 rebounds. Davis ruled the game and took only eight shots himself. Afterward, Rick Pitino invoked the name of Bill Russell.
“Do you know who Bill Russell is?” John Calipari asked Davis on Sunday during a news conference. “Yes.” “Who did he play for?” “Celtics.” “Give him a hand.” Come tonight, Davis could lead the polishing of his coach’s controversial legacy. Calipari’s Way will be on display, as a program with a revolving door plays for the national championship. “At the end of the day, I don’t apologize for anything we do,” Calipari said Sunday.
Honestly, more than a few will cringe if Kentucky wins. But beyond debate is how Calipari has somehow managed to collect massively talented individual parts and make them an unselfish, team-oriented whole.
A title would validate so much. And here’s the tall kid with the short career, the biggest star in a Kentucky galaxy full of them, to help deliver it.
Davis was named national player of the year hither and yon, despite being only fourth on his team in field goal attempts. You just don’t see that.
You ask him if he loves knocking shots into the fourth row, as the crowd swoons, and the sound of hand on ball is like an Albert Pujols line drive. He answers no, that gives the opponent another possession, and he’d rather keep the block inbounds, even if it’s less showy. “After every game, it’s not how many blocks you have but who put the most points on the board.”
You ask where his shot-blocking knack was born. “I never worked on it; it just came to me.”
You ask him what has been best about sprouting from a 6-2 high school guard to a 6-10 college post player. You expect to hear something about NBA career opportunity, but he mentions concerts. “You can see everything.”
You wonder if he wouldn’t mind getting more shots. “I can score zero points, and as long as we win, I’m happy. I like to win.”
You ask his teammates about practice. They report he devours their shots, too, served with trash talk.
“Definitely,” Darius Miller said, “every single time.”
Tonight is very likely the end of the Anthony Davis Era. You know how it goes at Kentucky, Here today, shaking hands with David Stern at the NBA draft tomorrow.
In his way is fellow inside force Thomas Robinson of Kansas; rather surprisingly, the first match of consensus All-americans in a national championship game in 13 years.
“Anthony Davis is a great player,” Robinson said, “but he’s not Superman.”
Should Davis and the Wildcats win, he will not be a symbol of a high school phenom with inflated expectations and even larger ego but rather someone who counted wins rather than points and thrived amid the fiery scrutiny of Kentucky basketball as a teenager.
“It’s hard to come and play here,” Calipari said. “There’s no place to hide, no crack to go down into. It’s not for everybody.”
But it has been for Davis. If today is anything like Saturday, let him in the Final Four inner sanctum when he shows up at the door. He belongs.