ORLANDO, Fla. — The Downey Christian School varsity basketball team
bursts from the locker room in single file, led by a boy 14 inches
shorter than the next smallest player, four years younger than the
next youngest.
His jersey straps are twisted and bound with plastic ties to prevent
them from slipping down his bony 4-foot-5, 70-pound frame. Tricolor
socks with pastel waves cover his size 4 feet, conveying the notion
that he might be a stylish student manager.
At road games, the boy, point guard Julian Newman, is asked, "Are you
on the team?" Here, in the Patriots' gymnasium, there is no doubt.
The grand marshal of the player parade, Julian, an 11-year-old fifth
grader, guides his team into warm-ups, bouncing two balls at once. He
glides into a pregame routine that shuffles through jab steps,
hesitation moves and effortless dribbles — between his pipestem legs,
behind his back, rapid crossovers. The scene is incongruous enough to
seem computer-animated.
Not long ago, Newman was a mere curio in the compact circle of sports
programs at small Christian schools in Central Florida. But his age,
his size and the wild contrast of his stature on the court with
relative giants have brought global attention through Internet videos.
The most-watched clip of Julian has generated more than 1.27 million
views on YouTube. It has prompted a visit from "Inside Edition," an
appearance on "Steve Harvey," comments on Twitter by Baltimore Ravens
players, coverage by news agencies from as far as China and a
performance at an Orlando Magic game. ScoutsFocus of Greenville, N.C.,
which evaluates and ranks high school players, helped put together the
viral video that was filmed by a Patriots assistant.
"He's a very talented kid and comes from a great family," Joe Davis,
the national recruiting coordinator for ScoutsFocus, said of Julian.
"He's smaller, so that's going to be his main obstacle, but he has a
great future once he hits a growth spurt or two."
Two nights before his N.B.A. halftime performance, Julian said between
bites of chicken tenders ordered from a children's menu that he was
working on a routine involving three basketballs. Despite his fame, he
has maintained the same degree of obsession. There is little, if any,
room for it to grow.
Julian fills his days by spending time in a gym or at the hoop in his
front yard, where his father, Jamie, the Downey Christian coach, has
painted lines to approximate a college court. Julian sinks 100 free
throws, 200 floaters and 200 jump shots every day. On 3-point
attempts, he leans into the shots slightly, as if to guide the ball
telepathically.
The process, on a good day, requires three hours, not that he is in a
hurry. The neighbors have complained, Jamie said, that the thwonk of
the ball has awakened them as late as 1 a.m.
Nor does bedtime necessarily close the book on his regimen. Lying on
his bed, with 13 N.B.A. jerseys along with posters of Magic Johnson
and LeBron James decorating the walls, with basketballs worn out
within weeks scattered about, Julian soft-tosses a ball toward the
ceiling, always perfecting his form, until nodding off.
By Julian's reckoning, he has never taken off longer than two straight
days, and then only to mend a sprained ankle. Before the Newmans go on
vacations, he insists that a park or recreation center with a rim be
nearby.
His mother, Vivian, was almost asked to leave a department store
because Julian could not resist fetching a ball from sporting goods
and dribbling it down the aisle. His wish lists for gifts are
basketball-centric.
His scarce time on a computer is usually spent on the YouTube channel
Superhandles. Operated by a former college player whose father exposed
him at an early age to footage of Pete Maravich, as Julian was by his
father, Superhandles features videos of dribbling drills and masterly
moves. Julian commits them to memory, then goes to the closest court
and mimics them.
The Newmans portray him as self-driven, a prodigy of sorts, eager to
meet their basic requirements in order to pursue his. He earns
straight A's, they say, motivated by a policy effective enough to be
every parent's dream: homework before hoops. That explains why Julian
used to knock out assignments during recess so he could start knocking
down shots immediately after school.
His parents decline to impose time restrictions on basketball during
weekends, holidays and summers. "People say don't put all your eggs in
one basket," Jamie said. "But it helps you."
Soon after Julian showed his inclination at age 3, his father placed
him on an accelerated course. He supplied regulation-size balls, not
the more age-appropriate miniatures. In recreation leagues, Julian
played against older boys.
For Julian, genes have proved a mixed blessing. Jamie and Vivian were
point guards at rival Orlando high schools — the backdrop for their
initial meeting. But Jamie is 5-6 and Vivian 5 feet, which suggests
that Julian, who is a couple of inches shorter than the average
11-year-old, might be looking up at teammates and foes forever.
His family tree — with Jewish, black and Hispanic roots — includes one
relative who barely pushed past 6 feet. Jamie hopes Julian will grow
to 5-10.
For now, his being low to the ground is an asset. In Julian's hands,
the ball, a virtual yo-yo, becomes nearly impossible to steal. His
lickety-split crossovers defy his age, if not belief.
"You see more of him dribbling the ball than you'll see watching an
N.B.A. game," Jamie said, allowing parental pride to get the better of
him.
Invoking two of Julian's favorite players, Jamie added, "He can do
stuff that Chris Paul and Derrick Rose can't."
Jamie, who also runs basketball camps and clinics, sent Julian and his
sister Jaden, 8, to Downey Christian after being hired to coach and to
teach history. Enrollment is so small — 340 students, from preschool
through 12th grade — that the Patriots play six-man football.
Julian and Jaden began this season on their middle school teams. Tired
of taking friendly ribbing from Jaden, who scored 63 points in a game,
he hit for 69, then 91, earning a promotion to the varsity.
Vivian's reaction to the upgrade? "At first, I felt no, as a mother,"
she said. "I was scared he would get squished."
Julian came off the bench, but not for long.
"If we wanted to win games, we'd have to play him right away," Jamie said.
The Patriots' upperclassmen were skeptical.
"But he definitely proved us wrong," the junior Jonathan Ferrell said.
"I look up to him now because he's so much better than me."
Downey, a longtime doormat of its low-level league, now dominates with
an 18-5 record. The role reversal has not sat well with some schools,
Jamie said. Five have forfeited games. For some, he said, "the real
reason is, they don't want to lose."
The pattern of forfeits has strengthened Jamie's resolve to shift next
year into the mainstream Florida High School Athletic Association for
the second of what will be Julian's eight varsity seasons.
Any resentment toward Julian has stayed hidden. Opponents have
refrained from digging an elbow or a forearm into him or nudging him
into the wall on drives to the rim.
"It's amazing to me that he hasn't been hit harder," Jamie said,
hinting at a strategy he would use against his son.
If the play becomes too physical for Julian, Ferrell said, "We'd have his back."
On a recent evening, the Patriots loosened up for nearly an hour until
Jamie reached the visitors by cellphone to discover that they were not
coming. (They later made up the game.) The Patriots resorted to an
intrasquad scrimmage. During timeouts, Jaden, who at 4-1 has joined
the girls' varsity, dribbled and drilled short jumpers, free throws
and, induced by a family acquaintance's $1 reward, a 3-pointer.
Jamie, sounding more like a father than a neutral observer, said,
"They are the next Cheryl and Reggie Miller."
Miles and years separate Julian and the warehouselike Downey gym —
with its scuffed tile floor, seven short rows of metal bleachers, two
opened ladders on one sideline and file cabinets in a corner — from a
spacious college or professional arena.
To the longtime recruiting expert Dave Telep, now with ESPN, trying to
project a fifth grader's development is fruitless. "The best kid in my
baseball Little League didn't make the majors," he said.
Jamie has no plans to leave Downey Christian, saying he intends to
build its program with Julian aboard. He said he had received
inquiries from youngsters elsewhere about transferring to play for his
team.
"From a basketball standpoint, it may not be the best situation, but
that's O.K.," Telep said of Julian's growth. "If you can play, you can
play. If it's right for you academically and socially, by all means,
stay there.
"Somewhere along the line, you'll have to step out of that bubble and
prove you can play."
NYT
No comments:
Post a Comment