Tallboys

With the steaks nearly done, Brown and the brothers Hansbrough figure they can sneak in a quick game of Flyer's Up with a miniature football before it's time to eat. Out on sleepy Autumn Road, Ben and Greg needle Tyler for his inability to throw a football as far as Peyton Manning. This is one area where Ben outstrips his more famous brother. Compelled to choose basketball over football in grade eight, he still has a cannon for a right arm, thrusting the tiny ball well beyond his competing receivers' reach near a fence in the neighbor's front yard. Then it's off to the dinner table.

"Nice work, Dad," Ben teases as he tries to figure out which screening of Spider-Man 2 to take in at the multiplex after dinner. "This is way better than Hot Pockets."

Tyler wonders if his father wouldn't mind grilling some hot dogs for dessert.

The good doctor obliges.

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When Larry Bird opined that the NBA is a black man's game that needs more white stars to cultivate a fan base, the statement created a hardy initial media buzz, but his words were perhaps more notable for the lack of negative reaction they generated. Magic Johnson and other black stars quickly defended the legendary Celtic's remarks (including his assertion that he took offense when guarded by white players) as a bold statement of fact.

Tyler Hansbrough concurs, as does his St. Louis Eagles head coach, Erwin Claggett (who is black).

"Larry Bird is Larry Bird," says Claggett, who coaches the McCluer High School boys' team during the school year. "I understood exactly where he was coming from."

"I feel the same way," says Tyler. "But if you've got game, you've got game."

Tyler Hansbrough's got game, though there are deficiencies in his arsenal. (In fact, he goes so far as to jot down his shortcomings after each tournament.) Still in need of improvement are his perimeter moves, outside shooting, on-ball defense and a nagging habit of dribbling unnecessarily before shooting from close range, which often allows opponents to foul him before he can convert an easy two.

One critique trumpeted by Web pundits rings false: that Tyler lacks athleticism. Any kid who can execute a between-the-legs-in-midair helicopter slam to win his state tournament's dunk contest does not want for raw athletic ability. The critique is lazy, an age-old stereotype of the white basketball player that's as stale as calling black football quarterbacks dumb.

If anything, says Eagles assistant Eric Long, Tyler should maybe open himself up to the prospect of playing more pickup games (according to Gene Hansbrough, Tyler loathes them, in contrast to Ben). Doing so when there's nothing on the line would allow him to experiment and to improve the instinctive nature of his game.

"Tyler's not a fluid athlete," Long elaborates. "He's more of a mechanical athlete. He needs a go-to move in the post, but he'll run through a wall to get better."

That's what makes Hansbrough the number-one player in his class -- and what makes that ranking so peculiar. Most top-ranked prep stars -- like, say, LeBron James and Dwight Howard, the NBA draft's last two number-one picks -- are jaw-dropping athletic specimens who will improve via maturity and refinement of their raw talent.

The NBA has never plucked a player like Tyler Hansbrough directly from the high-school ranks.

In fact, only once did a white American prep player go straight to the pros: seven-foot-one Southern California schoolboy Robert Swift, whom Seattle selected twelfth overall in this past June's NBA draft.

But pure centers, recruiting expert Bob Gibbons points out, have always made pro scouts salivate. Not so white power-forward prospects.

"The thing Robert Swift has is he's a true back-to-the-basket player," says Gibbons, a North Carolina-based scout. "That's a vanishing species. With Tyler, I could see him being a late-first-round pick. But to me, he would benefit from going to college first. He gets a lot of bonus points on sheer determination. Every time he gets the ball inside, he's either going to make the basket or get fouled. His thing is getting offensive rebounds. He's a blue-collar worker who needs to polish his game."

"Of all the elite players I've ever seen, [Tyler] is the hardest worker," observes local broadcaster Frank Cusumano, who played on the undefeated 1979 state champion DeSmet High School team alongside future Mizzou and NBA great Steve Stipanovich. "Rarely do you get white-collar ability with that blue-collar work ethic. You expect that kind of work ethic out of some six-three fringe player who plays offensive line in football and then comes out for the basketball team. You don't expect it from a six-nine gazelle."