THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, March 14, 1996 TAG: 9603140522
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C1 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: COMMENT
SOURCE: BY ANN G. SJOERDSMA, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Medium: 90 lines
Jerry Stackhouse. Rasheed Wallace.
Throughout this college basketball season, people have asked me: ``What's wrong with Carolina?''
``I don't know,'' I've answered. ``I'm not watching them.''
``You're not what?''
After 20 years of attending to the exploits of my powerhouse alma mater, I'm cool on the Heels.
Why?
Stackhouse and Wallace. The stars. The new underclassmen-star system of the 1990s has made an NBA playground of the NCAA and has soured me on the ``amateur'' game. I'm mad this March, all right, but not with basketball fever.
Known in NBA vernacular as ``early entry candidates,'' such stars are here today, gone after sophomore year - or maybe, in the case of Georgia Tech's phenom Stephon Marbury, freshman year.
Why should I get involved with players who are going to jilt me?
It may seem like sour grapes - or fair weather - for any Carolina fan to complain during an ``off'' year. The UNC basketball tradition has produced four NCAA championships (the first in 1924), 12 Final Four appearances, 26 consecutive 20-game seasons - far too many records to mention here - and the likes of Bob McAdoo, Bobby Jones, Mitch Kupchak, Walter Davis, Phil Ford, James Worthy, Sam Perkins, Kenny Smith, Eric Montross and a certain Chicago Bull who still wears Carolina-blue boxer shorts.
But it is precisely that tradition that inspires my disgust. In the new kiddie-star system, school traditions, conference rivalries, fan allegiance, even NCAA championships cease to matter. Only the dotted line counts. The seductive millions.
Dean Smith won the 1993 NCAA title with a balanced team of youth and experience led by senior George Lynch, who didn't even make it in the NBA. Smith groomed Lynch. The new superstars haven't the time for such long-range planning.
Underclassmen have been eligible for the pro draft since 1971; and freshmen were first allowed to play varsity ball during the 1972-73 academic year. Though freshman eligibility has certainly fueled it, and its repeal might eliminate it, today's underclass star system is of recent vintage.
Since Shaquille O'Neal was tapped by Orlando in 1992, all No. 1 draft choices in the NBA have been ``early entries,'' including, as ACC fans know only too well, Mr. Joe Smith of Maryland last year. (Oh, for a '96 Maryland-Carolina Final Four matchup.)
Sophomore Chris Webber, of Michigan's Fab Five, called time out from the college game to grab the No. 1 spot in 1993, and Purdue's Glenn Robinson snared the top dog's prize in '94.
Like Stackhouse and Wallace, each of these stars had a decent shot at an NCAA title the next year. (Webber did try twice.) But championships don't much interest NBA minor leaguers. They exploit school resources, especially coaching talent, command the media spotlight - sometimes disrupting the rest of the lineup, as Wallace did his freshman year - and then ditch the program for greener pastures once the team is starting to jell.
Money, money, money, money.
In contrast, forerunners Worthy and Jordan, both three-year players, tucked a trophy away in the school's case before they left Carolina. And they seemed to enjoy it.
Of the four early entries drafted No. 1 before Shaq, two won school titles - Magic Johnson (1979) and Worthy (1982) - and another, Houston's Hakeem Olajuwon, led his team to second-place finishes in '83 and '84. Mark Aguirre of DePaul went No. 1 in 1981.
Championship teams need time for creation and development. Duke proved that with its Laettner-Hurley-Hill combination. If star players can't give at least three years to fans and the schools that subsidize their training and education and showcase their skills, then they should attend the Moses Malone school of basketball knocks. We don't need 'em.
But I'm old. I remember when banged-up star seniors Walter Davis and Tommy LaGarde led talented underclassmen Phil Ford, Dudley Bradley, Mike O'Koren and others to the 1977 title game. I remember the Heels' championship run that ended with a heartbreaking 67-59 loss to Marquette and capped Davis' brilliant career.
Carolina students of the '70s shared their stars' thrills. ``Sweet D'' was a big part of our university community. One of us. We wouldn't have wanted to miss a moment of his four years. We grew up with him.
What's wrong with Carolina? It's lost that collegiate family spirit. Its big star is a kid - Antawn Jamison - and he can't do it alone. He'll be gone in a year, but NCAA madness will continue. MEMO: Ann G. Sjoerdsma, book editor and columnist for The Virginian-Pilot, is
a 1977 and 1981 graduate of UNC-Chapel Hill.
by CNB