``Sky's the limit.''A tattoo on Kevin Garnett's arm Visitors to Kevin Garnett's house in Minnetonka take off their shoes to protect his cherry-wood floors and white carpet. He chose all the black and white furnishings himself. He's particular. And he's on his own now. Departing from his mother's faith, he has celebrated the past two Christmases, buying a tree, exchanging gifts. But she says he's promised her he will one day obtain a college degree, and he recently enrolled for a business-correspondence course through the University of Minnesota. He bought a computer last summer and has started studying the stock market, according to his agent. ``He has a financial adviser who helps him with everything from bill paying to taxes to investing of money,'' says Eric Fleisher. Living with Kevin are his younger sister, Ashley Phelps, a Hopkins High School student who plays basketball, and Jaime ``Bug'' Peters, who is almost like a brother to him. Because of the long hours his mother worked, Kevin has been taking care of Ashley since he was about 14. ``Oh, man, he loves her,'' says Baron ``Bear'' Franks. ``That's his little sister. The day a guy comes around for her, oooooh, he better do right. If there's a mean bone in Kevin's body, it would come out.'' Peters, who is about 5-9 and not a basketball player, encouraged Kevin to excel at basketball long before anyone else recognized he had talent. He helped Kevin sneak out of the house to go play at Springfield Park, monitored his buddy's every move and watched his back while he was having fun. The two boys -- born a month apart -- became friends when they were about 11, according to Kevin's mother. `` `Bug' had a Mickey Mouse watch and gave it to Kevin -- just like that,'' says Shirley Irby Garnett. Other friends from Mauldin have lived with Kevin, too. He trusts people who cared about Kevin Garnett, the person, before there was a Kevin Garnett, the celebrity basketball player. He does not give autographs to those close to him -- an attempt, perhaps, to maintain friendships without the element of adoration. Bridget Butler, 29, who dated Garnett while he was living in the Chicago apartment complex she helps manage, has visited him in Minnetonka. ``We're still friends,'' she says. ``I don't think he's looking for that real romance right now. He is very focused on playing basketball.'' When he is with friends, Kevin is outgoing, funny, always joking. But when it comes to his playing, he is hard on himself. ``He just always feels he could have done something different to have made the result better,'' Butler says. When he is not in the public arena playing basketball, Kevin sticks close to home, spending much of his time listening to CDs, playing video games and watching basketball on tapes and satellite TV. He changes his telephone number often. When he eats fast food, he picks it up at the drive-through window. When he buys shoes at Mall of America, he parks close to an entrance and slips out of a store quickly. He spent last summer in South Carolina, where he bought a $217,000 townhouse at the edge of a golf course. He played basketball in Mauldin's recreation center with high school boys every day. Afterward, he would take a dozen or more of them out to eat. He liked meals of chicken, fish and vegetables and urged the boys to drink lots of juice, not pop. When everyone pushed back their plates after eating, he told stories about the NBA and they asked questions: ``What was it really like to play against Mike [Jordan]?'' ``When Dennis Rodman kicked that guy, what did he say?'' Driving to and from the restaurant, Kevin invited one or two kids to ride with him in his car and talked with them alone. ``He often told them, `The NBA is a job, not just fun,' '' says Chris ``G-Phi'' Garrett, 25, a Mauldin High assistant coach. On Friday nights, there would be talk of going to see a movie, and Kevin would ask, ``What do you all want to do?'' ``What he wanted to do was go play basketball,'' Garrett says. ``So, we'd play basketball.'' In August 1996, about 300 residents of Mauldin held a dinner to honor Kevin. He was awarded an honorary key to the city. Every table was decorated with a picture of him and cantaloupes sprayed orange to look like basketballs. His high school jersey number, 21, the same number he wears for the Timberwolves, was retired during a halftime ceremony on the football field that fall. Kevin recently worked out a deal with Nike to get the company to resurface Springfield Park, where Kevin spent so many hours of his youth shooting hoops. The dedication of the park was marked by the untying of a giant shoelace and one of two free cookouts Kevin arranged. ``He comes back here and really pulls together the community,'' says Charles Bankhead, the father of C.W. Bankhead, a Mauldin High basketball player Kevin has dubbed ``The Future.'' But Bankhead acknowledges a down side: ``Some kids put all their eggs in one basket, believing they can be just like Kevin, when they can't.'' Everyone has an opinion about Kevin's decision to play professional ball, his money and his contract. ``What people in Minnesota should understand is that he's loyal -- that counts with him -- and he coulda waited a year, coulda left and made as much or more money,'' says Darren ``Bull'' Gazaway, Kevin's former coach in Greenville. ``If he went free agent, had to play out his last year and got hurt, he might have lost the gamble,'' says O'Lewis McCullough, Kevin's father. ``I just started laughing when I heard how much his new contract is worth,'' says William Nelson, his former coach in Chicago. ``He used to be asking me for 50 cents for pop.'' ``I had thoughts . . .'' laughs Butler of Chicago. ``I think all his friends were doing some dreaming.'' ``I just thought about all those zeroes,'' says Jamel Rome, 17, a point guard at Farragut, where Kevin played as a high school senior. Meanwhile, Kevin Garnett is playing the game he loves against the best players in the world, testing himself, pursuing his dream. ``It wasn't a money issue with me,'' he said last month after signing his $125 million contract. And his life, so far, shows it probably isn't. Basketball, the game, is worth more than money to him. If he weren't paid a cent, he would be somewhere shooting baskets. All day if he could. And into the night.


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