``I knew he was gifted the first time I saw him on the court.''
Duke Fisher
The kid had good hands. Good feet. Quick and always in position. Something you have -- or don't.
``God-given,'' concludes Mauldin High School Coach James ``Duke'' Fisher, 54.
Steely thin, 6-4, sarcastic and gruff, Fisher played ball at the University of North Carolina as a college freshman. He wrote to his alma mater.
``Come take a look.''
Kevin Garnett was quiet his freshman year, with an average of 12.5 points, 14 rebounds and seven blocks per game. The summer between his freshman and sophomore year, Mauldin had a split junior varsity-varsity team at basketball camp. Fisher observed a change in Kevin. He was more confident, playing harder. The Mauldin Mavericks had a leader in him.
Kevin worked hard for Fisher. And Fisher pushed him to work even harder. But there was no way you could break this kid.
``I'd bust him at basketball practice, I mean really bust him,'' Fisher says. ``And then he'd go to the park and play basketball there. He'd leave one practice and go practice again. I never saw someone so obsessed.''
When the high school basketball season ended, Kevin played for Darren ``Bull'' Gazaway, who works nights on a loading dock so he can coach during the day. He's been an Amateur Athletic Union coach for 20 years, putting together teams for an annual textile-mill tournament and for a summer ball program.
Gazaway, 45, played basketball in high school. He says he has attended one pro game in his life -- ``and that one had Bill Walton in it.'' At 5-11 and 260 pounds, Gazaway confesses he is ``not exactly built for basketball.''
But high school boys from Greenville and all the little nearby towns want to play for ``Bull.'' He chooses his teams, and his teams always have the best players.
His home court is a small gym next to an old textile plant in Greenville. From the outside, the gym looks like a small warehouse. Inside, it smells musty, like an old country church.
Seventeen wooden benches line the walls, painted an institutional mint green. The scoreboard controls sit on a plywood pulpit, and the wooden backboards are grubby with red-brown South Carolina dirt. Someone has stuck yellow tape on one of the walls and scrawled on it with a black marker, ``Players bench.''
Just four years ago, Kevin played his last of three seasons for Gazaway. That final year, 1994, all nine team members were the MVPs at their high schools. The team won the Kentucky Hoopfest tournament, which was held in Louisville and drew competitors from several states.
Kevin was a clown, always laughing, wrestling and kidding around. When he dunked the ball, he would open his mouth and yell on the way down. Gazaway had to explain to other coaches that Kevin was not trying to bother or embarrass anyone. He was just Kevin. Having fun.
Gazaway says he spent a lot of time with Kevin on free throws. He had to get Kevin to settle down and concentrate.
``It was almost like he was too hyper to take the time for the throw, like he was thinking, `Let's get this over with so we can play,' '' Gazaway says.
When his playing began to attract public attention, Kevin was bashful about having his picture taken and uncomfortable in the limelight.
Gazaway recalls a time the team was invited to visit a basketball camp at a college. After the team sat down in the gym, a college coach walked over and greeted Gazaway and Kevin.
As the man walked away, Kevin said, ``Get me outta here.''
Once outside, Kevin explained, ``He spoke to me, spoke to you. But not to any of the other of my boys.''
He was always unselfish on the court.
``Kevin could have averaged 30 points a game -- easy,'' Gazaway says. ``But he didn't. He probably averaged about 18 points. He would pass, set up other players. He was not stingy. Just loved to play the game.''
 


                                                                                                             A dunk and a yell