pirate44
04-18-2006, 08:37 PM
i am a huge Chris Mullin fan. i have his #17 jersey, his NBA rookie card and followed his career religously. i found this great article online.
this being said, my vote goes to Pete Marovich ;)
written by Lar Anderson of SI
During the winter of 1984, my mom thought I had lost my marbles. Throughout one of the coldest Decembers in the history of my hometown of Lincoln, Neb., I insisted on staying outside from the time I got home from school until darkness fell. I was 13 years old and determined to become the best jump shooter at Irving Junior High -- and the next Chris Mullin.
At the time Mullin was a senior swingman at St. John's. As I'd hold a basketball with my gloves while standing between the banks of snow that I'd shoveled to the sides of my driveway, I'd try to emulate Mullin's shot -- the purest, most beautiful one in the history of college basketball. When I'd line up a 20-footer, I'd make sure my shooting elbow was in as I lifted the ball to my forehead. Then I'd push the ball outward, spinning the laces on the release, hoping to tickle the back of the net just like Mullin almost always did.
Mullin, in my mind, is the greatest player in the history of college basketball for one reason: he got more production out of his natural talent than anyone else. Mullin was an everyman; like most of us, he wasn't blessed with great physical gifts. He was raised on Troy Avenue in Brooklyn in a small row house. He grew to be 6-foot-6, yet he could barely dunk. He wasn't fast, quick or particularly strong. But like the great barnstorming players of the '40s and '50s, Mullin got by on hard work, guts and guile. As St. John's coach Lou Carnesecca once said, "Chris captures the imagination without dunking."
When Mullin arrived at St. John's, he often stayed in the gym at Alumni Hall -- by himself -- perfecting his shot until 2 or 3 a.m. One time, when a winter blizzard blanketed the campus, Mullin spent the better part of two straight days locked in the gym. He'd slip a tape of Madonna into a boom box, and just shoot, shoot and shoot. This was his escape, and as someone who has spent time a ridiculous amount of time alone on a driveway unspooling jumpers can attest, he also found deep contentment in this ritual.
The hard work all paid off, of course. Each season at St. John's his scoring average was steady: 16.6 points per game as a freshman, 19.1 as a sophomore, 22.9 as a junior and 19.8 as a senior. Considering that many of his points came from 20 feet and beyond, Mullin's scoring averages would have been much higher had there been a 3-point shot in the college game when he played. And he was a career 55 percent -- 55 percent! -- shooter. He also hit 84.8 percent of his free throws. Yet perhaps the most incredible stat of Mullin's career is this: he took an average of just 13 shots a game. Selfish, he was not.
In his senior year Mullin won the John Wooden Award as the best college player of the 1984-85 season. I'll take it a step further: Mullin, for my money, was simply the best college player of all time.
this being said, my vote goes to Pete Marovich ;)
written by Lar Anderson of SI
During the winter of 1984, my mom thought I had lost my marbles. Throughout one of the coldest Decembers in the history of my hometown of Lincoln, Neb., I insisted on staying outside from the time I got home from school until darkness fell. I was 13 years old and determined to become the best jump shooter at Irving Junior High -- and the next Chris Mullin.
At the time Mullin was a senior swingman at St. John's. As I'd hold a basketball with my gloves while standing between the banks of snow that I'd shoveled to the sides of my driveway, I'd try to emulate Mullin's shot -- the purest, most beautiful one in the history of college basketball. When I'd line up a 20-footer, I'd make sure my shooting elbow was in as I lifted the ball to my forehead. Then I'd push the ball outward, spinning the laces on the release, hoping to tickle the back of the net just like Mullin almost always did.
Mullin, in my mind, is the greatest player in the history of college basketball for one reason: he got more production out of his natural talent than anyone else. Mullin was an everyman; like most of us, he wasn't blessed with great physical gifts. He was raised on Troy Avenue in Brooklyn in a small row house. He grew to be 6-foot-6, yet he could barely dunk. He wasn't fast, quick or particularly strong. But like the great barnstorming players of the '40s and '50s, Mullin got by on hard work, guts and guile. As St. John's coach Lou Carnesecca once said, "Chris captures the imagination without dunking."
When Mullin arrived at St. John's, he often stayed in the gym at Alumni Hall -- by himself -- perfecting his shot until 2 or 3 a.m. One time, when a winter blizzard blanketed the campus, Mullin spent the better part of two straight days locked in the gym. He'd slip a tape of Madonna into a boom box, and just shoot, shoot and shoot. This was his escape, and as someone who has spent time a ridiculous amount of time alone on a driveway unspooling jumpers can attest, he also found deep contentment in this ritual.
The hard work all paid off, of course. Each season at St. John's his scoring average was steady: 16.6 points per game as a freshman, 19.1 as a sophomore, 22.9 as a junior and 19.8 as a senior. Considering that many of his points came from 20 feet and beyond, Mullin's scoring averages would have been much higher had there been a 3-point shot in the college game when he played. And he was a career 55 percent -- 55 percent! -- shooter. He also hit 84.8 percent of his free throws. Yet perhaps the most incredible stat of Mullin's career is this: he took an average of just 13 shots a game. Selfish, he was not.
In his senior year Mullin won the John Wooden Award as the best college player of the 1984-85 season. I'll take it a step further: Mullin, for my money, was simply the best college player of all time.