Scott May sat there, and watched. He watched Indiana, his alma mater, in a furious struggle with Ohio State, and he watched Calbert Cheaney, his linear descendant, in a similar struggle with himself, his nerves and his instincts. He watched all of this and was riddled by myriad thoughts.
For Cheaney now graces the scorer`s role May once filled for the Hoosiers, and May was here able to assimilate all the currents then buffeting the sophomore. He grasped why he floundered early and shot but 1 of 5 in the first half. He understood the ire of Bob Knight, and why his old coach temporarily benched his latest star. He recognized the change in Cheaney`s approach, and why he then was able to catalyze a rally that transformed a Buckeye rout into a narrow Buckeye victory.
”Sometimes I get hyper, like last night,” Cheaney recalled a day later. ”Then I try to do too much. When I do that, things go wrong.”
”He kinda fell right into their hands. He missed his first three, four
(jump shots), and that put pressure on him,” May added a day after that.
”I think he just needs to learn instead of taking the first thing, to take the best thing. Why take the jump shot? Wait a few seconds, maybe you`ll get a layup and foul. But that`s tough. That comes with maturity, with playing in big games.”
How long did it take you to get that maturity?
”By the middle of my junior year I kinda knew what shot I wanted, and worked for that instead of just taking what was given to me. I think once he understands that, he`ll be fine.”
Have you talked to him about that?
”Not recently. But maybe I need to. Something simple. `Hey, man, that jumper`s not always going to go. Don`t put all your game in one basket. Get the shot you want.`
”He`ll be all right. He`s a heck of a kid. A heck of an intelligent kid. But being young, he hasn`t been in that many big games. He doesn`t have that patience.”
– – –
Bob Knight-the Smith, Barney of coaches-does not toss around bouquets lightly. They must be earned. But already he has characterized Calbert Cheaney as a cross between former Indiana stars May and Mike Woodson, and opined further that he one day could develop into the finest forward ever to play for him in Bloomington.
Cheaney is clearly not that yet, that is too much to expect of one so young, yet here he can be tagged confidently with another label. He can be tagged the best-unknown player in the country. For while many of his peers perform to the drumbeats of publicity, he labors quietly toward mastering his role. Though he is accomplished enough already to average nearly 22 points per game, his full flourishing-and the attendant spotlight-is still somewhere out there in his promising future.
It is only in his future that he will grasp fully all the intricacies of the special position he now holds at Indiana, a position that demands talents possessed by only a blessed few.
”He,” said Knight, ”has to be able to play. He`s not just a shooter. He has to be able to drive the ball, so I like the kid to be fairly strong. Cheaney is. He has to like to score. He does. The pressure of scoring isn`t a tough thing for him. The most difficult thing is to play without the ball. To be a really great player, he has to learn to play without the ball.”
”The big thing is to read defenses since we set so many screens,” added Hoosier assistant Ron Felling. ”We tell our kids, `Don`t worry about the basketball. Read the defense, and the ball will come to you.` I think that`s why our kids are such good shooters from that position.”
”Coach,” concluded May, ”has always been forward oriented with the exception of (Steve) Alford, who was a guard but played forward as far as I`m concerned. The system is predicated on the forward scoring a bunch of points.”
Felling was the first to sense that Cheaney one day could do that for Indiana, and after spotting him as a high school junior, he passed his impression on to Knight. Knight, his interest piqued, then made his own expedition, but after watching Cheaney struggle through a horrible game (”I bet he went 6 for 31”), the Hoosiers` interest in him waned.
”But then,” said Felling, ”I saw him in the summer (in AAU games after his junior year), and followed up at a practice where he made everything. It was like he was saying, `Take that. Take that. Take that. You didn`t like that one? Here`s another one.` ”
”We have to get this kid,” he told Knight after that display.
”Do you think we can get in on him?” Knight wondered.
”I think so,” answered Felling.
Cheaney, it turned out, was an easy sell, and when last season ended, he joined Woodson and Alford and Isiah Thomas as the only freshmen ever to lead Indiana in scoring. That is when his coach started tossing out bouquets, but they were bouquets Cheaney was not yet eligible to collect. He would not be eligible to collect them until he mastered his role.
– – –
May, when he was learning it, went through a stretch when he was obliged to set at least two picks before taking a shot. He may someday, said Knight, give that order to Cheaney as well. But already, at this stage of his education, he is prohibited from taking three-point shots and obliged to search diligently for points through means other than a jumper.
”He is taking,” explained Knight, ”the first thing that comes along. That`s what separates him from May and Woodson right now.”
”Sometimes,” agreed Cheaney, ”I have to slow down and play within the system. I have to read more and see what`s on the floor.”
”(For me),” said May, ”it got to where I thought, `Hey. This is what I want. I`m going to get what I want. You`re going to have to play against me until I get it.` Believe me. When he gets to that point, no one`s going to want to play him.”
But even now, even as he learns to sort out the swirling maelstrom of a game, few want to play against Calbert Cheaney, and that is a true measure of his considerable talents. May said Cheaney is, now, a better shooter than he or Woodson ever was. Woodson, his NBA career just over, said Cheaney`s first step and his explosiveness remind him of his own youth. Felling, the assistant, said he is the first to arrive at a practice, the last to leave a practice, and often buried in the film room watching tape on his own. ”He,” said Felling, ”wants to be good.”
He is already, though still a sophomore, good enough to be the leader of the country`s fourth-ranked team and one of the three pre-eminent performers in the Big 10. He is composed enough to not be ruffled by those comparisons to May and Woodson, nor by the weight of Knight`s premise that he may one day develop into the finest forward he ever coached. (”I`m flattered by that. When Coach Knight says positive things about you, it helps your confidence.”) He may not yet be appreciated as widely as some of his peers, but-like a gleaming monarch just bursting from its cocoon-he already is suffused with splendors enough to one day attract all eyes.
”That really doesn`t bother me very much,” he said when asked about performing now in relative anonymity. ”It`s actually good to be one of the best unknowns in the country. You`re not looked at that much. It doesn`t put pressure on you.”
But doesn`t every player like recognition?
”Yeah,” Calbert Cheaney admitted, and then added this postscript, a postscript that augers all to come. ”But if you go out and work hard, good things happen for you and your team. And if your team does well, recognition will come.”
