Louisville guard Russ Smith rises from Gauchos Gym in the Bronx to star of NCAA Tournament - NY Daily News
[click the link if you want to see the accompanying videos]
The earliest film footage of Louisville guard Russ Smith is kept in a plastic DVD case on a crowded desk behind a black door inside Gauchos Gym, a renovated warehouse on Gerard Ave. in the South Bronx.
On the screen, he is a fourth- grader, wearing a navy blue sweatsuit, his gym uniform at the St. Cecilia School. His father, best known as Big Russ, plays cameraman and junior adjusts his dribbles, ranging from over his shoulder to around his back and under his skipping feet. He does it all with a weatherworn leather ball on a wooden floor in Apartment 1B on Kingsland Ave. in East Williamsburg.
Oh! Smith says, eyeing the camera. That was hot!
Big Russ, who moonlights as an actor, pans the space.
"Do the butterfly," Smith Sr. says.
Junior abides.
Bounce, bounce, bounce.
Do the spider, Big Russ says.
Bounce, bounce, bounce.
Smith's receptive to all requests. The sleight-of-hand sequence plays out for several minutes, ending with a flourish, but Smith, now 21 and preparing for his second consecutive Final Four on Saturday against Wichita State, approaches the elevated stakes with uncommon levity. Once a runt hopping subway trains and buses to score 60 points at West 4ths caged-in court, he now lays claim to All-American accolades as the games most eclectic talent.
When youre in a league with Louisville, you learn that if hes at full speed, and its one Russ on three defenders, in his mind, he has the advantage and hes gonna go, Villanova coach Jay Wright says. Teams cant believe it until it happens.
No one predicted national acclaim for the son of Paulette ONeal, a substitute teacher, and Big Russ, who, as Manhattan College coach Steve Masiello, a family friend, says, is the epitome of a street thug, and I say that with love.
At the same age his son is now, Big Russ, one of 10 siblings, carried a .22-caliber gun and dealt loose marijuana joints across the city. Junior, meanwhile, is one of four siblings, enjoys drinking hot tea (Carnation milk with sugar, please), addresses his superiors as sir or maam and offers Cardinals coach Rick Pitino hugs in midgame huddles.
Sometimes I ask him myself, Who is your father? says Big Russ, who has appeared in commercials and films such as Finding Forrester as a body double.
The differences are not lost on his mother, who is divorced from Big Russ.
My sons a hot mess, she says. He literally talked me to sleep when he was a kid.
Raised in the Gauchos Gym, where Big Russ, a former Gaucho, runs the primary school development program, Smith became the face of the Gauchos introductory video. For years, the first segment opened with him as he emerged from the 149th St. subway station on the Grand Concourse, dribbled the ball downhill and walked into the gym.
Hed rather play than breathe, says Tom Konchalski, a high school talent evaluator.
Craziness encircles the Smiths at times. The roots of the sons unpredictability are evident on the same DVD that displays his innocent dribbling. It is footage recorded by his father, outside his barbershop in Harlem, on Frederick Douglass Blvd. There is a woman who shows up on the screen suddenly. She is fresh off a street fight when the man she was battling confronts her on camera. She fixes her hair weave, then takes a drag on a burning cigarette before grabbing an aluminum bat. She swings it wildly at the man before he grabs it and takes a cut at her. They are then separated and he throws the bat.
I never wanted Russ in the streets, Big Russ says as he watches the film.
On the video, Big Russ brother maintains that no one knows what will occur from one minute to the next.
Once again, these are Harlem streets, he says. You never know whats going to happen.
He looks into the camera.
Back to you, Russ!
Archbishop Molloy coach Jack Curran, a schoolboy basketball legend and daily communicant, liked to quip that his commute from Rye, across the Whitestone Bridge to the Catholic school in the Briarwood section of Queens took two rosaries' time. Certainly, from the day Smith joined the Stanners varsity as a sophomore, there was a decade or two dedicated to Smiths decision-making on the court during drive time.
One Saturday, Smith, typically attentive and on time, arrived late for an 11 a.m. practice. His coat was half hanging off his bony frame. He looked flustered, flailing in his attempts to explain his tardiness. Curran, noticing his nervousness, cut him off.
Relax, Russ, Curran said. Whatever you tell me, Im going to believe.
Curran, in his late 70s then, eventually entrusted his offense to Smith. That sophomore year he challenged senior point guard Dennis OGrady. OGrady, an altar boy in a basketball uniform, learned to gain separation from Smith early or be harassed as he handled the ball. Though OGrady outweighed Smith by 75-100 pounds, Smith combined his anticipation with tenacity, long arms and large hands to deflect countless passes.
There were plays when I would just drive before the play was set up because I knew if I waited he would steal it from me, OGrady says.
Smiths penchant for pocket- picking earned him playing time, and his uncanny ability to contort his sub-six-foot frame in order to slip through holes and get the ball to the rim kept him on the court. Senior year, he scored 29.6 points per game in 2008-09, but most recruiters marked him as a mid-major prospect. Physically, he needed to fill out. Offensively, he needed to be more efficient. Defensively, he was exceptional, a fireball burning through the local competition.
He enrolled at South Kent (Conn.) Prep for a post-graduate year, and posted video of himself in his dorm room on YouTube. He was shirtless, wore a do-rag on his head and counted out each pushup to his roommate.
He never wore a shirt unless it was formal dress, South Kent coach Kelvin Jefferson says. It was like they just disappeared from his wardrobe. He saw the changes even if no one else did. Hed always be like, Coach, feel my muscle.
Louisville and Baylor gave him the closest looks. Masiello, then a Louisville assistant, invited Smith to campus for a visit. He was not offered a scholarship, but fell in love with the program. Masiello called him that night to make sure he got home safely.
Im gonna commit, Smith said.
Well, Russ, Masiello said. We havent officially offered you.
Smith said he understood, but insisted he was going to Louisville. When Masiello informed Pitino, the coach couldnt comprehend why Smith didnt seem to understand that a scholarship needed to be offered. That same night, a reporter from a recruiting service website called to ask if Masiello could confirm whether Louisville had accepted Smiths commitment.
Thats Russ, Masiello says. Quick and not listening to anything outside.
Louisville associate coach Ralph Willard liked Smiths willingness to disrupt opponents with deflections. He also recognized a role for Smith as a two-guard that might spring him for shots, but patience was needed more than anything else. Louisville offered; Smith accepted, but he suffered a string of injuries (broken foot, concussion, strained foot, sore knee) his freshman season. The foot put him out the longest stretch, but the concussion came in a practice and again highlighted his irrepressible nature.
When the team doctor asked Smith questions, he answered oddly. One answer was more delirious than the next, Masiello says.
Smiths struggles added up. His mother met Pitino at the team hotel when the Cardinals came to Manhattan to face St. Johns. She introduced herself, hugged Pitino and voiced her concerns, calling her son a sleeping lion. Midway through the season, Smith wanted to transfer. His father, in New York, and Masiello, recruiting in Chicago, spoke to him on a three-way phone call. Smith was on the verge of tears. To his father, transferring was not an option.
Im going to get on a plane and kick your a--, Big Russ said.
Big Russ never boarded that plane, but there were more turbulent times. Pitino attempted to mold Smith into an intelligent, collegian player in his system, but compared every possession with Smith leading the offense to having a nervous breakdown. Still, Pitino, who referred to Smith as Russdiculous for his unconventional shots, wound up molding his system to Smith. It all paid off last March during the NCAA Tournament when Smith emerged as the catalyst for the Cardinals run to the national semifinals.
Russ was 147 pounds when he came. He didnt really understand the game that well, Pitino says. Russ was just happy. He wanted to score 30-something points a game. Thats all he cared about. He doesnt do that anymore. Hes a big-time winner.
For all of the winning, Smith suffered his greatest loss in March. Curran died after battling kidney and lung problems and a broken kneecap in February. Smith learned the news from Molloy athletic director Mike McCleary when Smith called to offer Curran and McCleary tickets to Louisville's Big East Tournament game at Madison Square Garden that night. Smith cried on the team bus. Later that afternoon, OGrady, his old counterpart, was in spring training in Phoenix and sent Smith a text message.
Hey, make sure you go out and play well tonight.
Smith responded shortly: I got this.
In Louisvilles 74-55 win over Villanova, Smith scored 28 points on 7-of-12 shooting from the field. He noted that March 14 would forever be Jack Curran Day in his mind.
Its a testament to Coach, OGrady says. Its a testament to Russ.
There are four leather basketballs, each wrapped in white nylon nets, hanging above a hardwood floor inside Big Russ Barber Shop in Harlem. A plexi-glass backboard, replete with an iron rim, dangles from the center of the ceiling. On the back wall is Smith's No. 2 Louisville jersey encased in a glass frame.
Opening Day at Yankee Stadium, taking place a mile across the Harlem River, streams through the television screen in the shop, but discourse on Monday remains fixed on top-seeded Louisvilles Final Four prospects. Smiths father, who planned to fly to Atlanta Thursday, reflects on the road his son has taken, eschewing his own mistakes along the way. When I was growing up, Harlem was all about kill, kill, kill and take, take, take, Big Russ says. It was a different world. I never wanted Russ to be around that. His mom helped balance him. I just wanted to put the ball in his hands and let him go.
He leaves the shop, jumps in his white SUV, pulls off the curb and makes his way across the 145th Street Bridge to the Gauchos Gym. He walks past the retired college jerseys of Gaucho greats such as Kemba Walker, the former UConn point guard who led the Huskies to a title two years ago. As Big Russ stands on the sideline watching the next crop practice, a grade-school boy named Eric, a member of the development program, tells Big Russ that he watched his sons last game.
He scored 23 points! Eric says.
Big Russ laughs.
Everybody watching now, he says.
[click the link if you want to see the accompanying videos]
The earliest film footage of Louisville guard Russ Smith is kept in a plastic DVD case on a crowded desk behind a black door inside Gauchos Gym, a renovated warehouse on Gerard Ave. in the South Bronx.
On the screen, he is a fourth- grader, wearing a navy blue sweatsuit, his gym uniform at the St. Cecilia School. His father, best known as Big Russ, plays cameraman and junior adjusts his dribbles, ranging from over his shoulder to around his back and under his skipping feet. He does it all with a weatherworn leather ball on a wooden floor in Apartment 1B on Kingsland Ave. in East Williamsburg.
Oh! Smith says, eyeing the camera. That was hot!
Big Russ, who moonlights as an actor, pans the space.
"Do the butterfly," Smith Sr. says.
Junior abides.
Bounce, bounce, bounce.
Do the spider, Big Russ says.
Bounce, bounce, bounce.
Smith's receptive to all requests. The sleight-of-hand sequence plays out for several minutes, ending with a flourish, but Smith, now 21 and preparing for his second consecutive Final Four on Saturday against Wichita State, approaches the elevated stakes with uncommon levity. Once a runt hopping subway trains and buses to score 60 points at West 4ths caged-in court, he now lays claim to All-American accolades as the games most eclectic talent.
When youre in a league with Louisville, you learn that if hes at full speed, and its one Russ on three defenders, in his mind, he has the advantage and hes gonna go, Villanova coach Jay Wright says. Teams cant believe it until it happens.
No one predicted national acclaim for the son of Paulette ONeal, a substitute teacher, and Big Russ, who, as Manhattan College coach Steve Masiello, a family friend, says, is the epitome of a street thug, and I say that with love.
At the same age his son is now, Big Russ, one of 10 siblings, carried a .22-caliber gun and dealt loose marijuana joints across the city. Junior, meanwhile, is one of four siblings, enjoys drinking hot tea (Carnation milk with sugar, please), addresses his superiors as sir or maam and offers Cardinals coach Rick Pitino hugs in midgame huddles.
Sometimes I ask him myself, Who is your father? says Big Russ, who has appeared in commercials and films such as Finding Forrester as a body double.
The differences are not lost on his mother, who is divorced from Big Russ.
My sons a hot mess, she says. He literally talked me to sleep when he was a kid.
Raised in the Gauchos Gym, where Big Russ, a former Gaucho, runs the primary school development program, Smith became the face of the Gauchos introductory video. For years, the first segment opened with him as he emerged from the 149th St. subway station on the Grand Concourse, dribbled the ball downhill and walked into the gym.
Hed rather play than breathe, says Tom Konchalski, a high school talent evaluator.
Craziness encircles the Smiths at times. The roots of the sons unpredictability are evident on the same DVD that displays his innocent dribbling. It is footage recorded by his father, outside his barbershop in Harlem, on Frederick Douglass Blvd. There is a woman who shows up on the screen suddenly. She is fresh off a street fight when the man she was battling confronts her on camera. She fixes her hair weave, then takes a drag on a burning cigarette before grabbing an aluminum bat. She swings it wildly at the man before he grabs it and takes a cut at her. They are then separated and he throws the bat.
I never wanted Russ in the streets, Big Russ says as he watches the film.
On the video, Big Russ brother maintains that no one knows what will occur from one minute to the next.
Once again, these are Harlem streets, he says. You never know whats going to happen.
He looks into the camera.
Back to you, Russ!
Archbishop Molloy coach Jack Curran, a schoolboy basketball legend and daily communicant, liked to quip that his commute from Rye, across the Whitestone Bridge to the Catholic school in the Briarwood section of Queens took two rosaries' time. Certainly, from the day Smith joined the Stanners varsity as a sophomore, there was a decade or two dedicated to Smiths decision-making on the court during drive time.
One Saturday, Smith, typically attentive and on time, arrived late for an 11 a.m. practice. His coat was half hanging off his bony frame. He looked flustered, flailing in his attempts to explain his tardiness. Curran, noticing his nervousness, cut him off.
Relax, Russ, Curran said. Whatever you tell me, Im going to believe.
Curran, in his late 70s then, eventually entrusted his offense to Smith. That sophomore year he challenged senior point guard Dennis OGrady. OGrady, an altar boy in a basketball uniform, learned to gain separation from Smith early or be harassed as he handled the ball. Though OGrady outweighed Smith by 75-100 pounds, Smith combined his anticipation with tenacity, long arms and large hands to deflect countless passes.
There were plays when I would just drive before the play was set up because I knew if I waited he would steal it from me, OGrady says.
Smiths penchant for pocket- picking earned him playing time, and his uncanny ability to contort his sub-six-foot frame in order to slip through holes and get the ball to the rim kept him on the court. Senior year, he scored 29.6 points per game in 2008-09, but most recruiters marked him as a mid-major prospect. Physically, he needed to fill out. Offensively, he needed to be more efficient. Defensively, he was exceptional, a fireball burning through the local competition.
He enrolled at South Kent (Conn.) Prep for a post-graduate year, and posted video of himself in his dorm room on YouTube. He was shirtless, wore a do-rag on his head and counted out each pushup to his roommate.
He never wore a shirt unless it was formal dress, South Kent coach Kelvin Jefferson says. It was like they just disappeared from his wardrobe. He saw the changes even if no one else did. Hed always be like, Coach, feel my muscle.
Louisville and Baylor gave him the closest looks. Masiello, then a Louisville assistant, invited Smith to campus for a visit. He was not offered a scholarship, but fell in love with the program. Masiello called him that night to make sure he got home safely.
Im gonna commit, Smith said.
Well, Russ, Masiello said. We havent officially offered you.
Smith said he understood, but insisted he was going to Louisville. When Masiello informed Pitino, the coach couldnt comprehend why Smith didnt seem to understand that a scholarship needed to be offered. That same night, a reporter from a recruiting service website called to ask if Masiello could confirm whether Louisville had accepted Smiths commitment.
Thats Russ, Masiello says. Quick and not listening to anything outside.
Louisville associate coach Ralph Willard liked Smiths willingness to disrupt opponents with deflections. He also recognized a role for Smith as a two-guard that might spring him for shots, but patience was needed more than anything else. Louisville offered; Smith accepted, but he suffered a string of injuries (broken foot, concussion, strained foot, sore knee) his freshman season. The foot put him out the longest stretch, but the concussion came in a practice and again highlighted his irrepressible nature.
When the team doctor asked Smith questions, he answered oddly. One answer was more delirious than the next, Masiello says.
Smiths struggles added up. His mother met Pitino at the team hotel when the Cardinals came to Manhattan to face St. Johns. She introduced herself, hugged Pitino and voiced her concerns, calling her son a sleeping lion. Midway through the season, Smith wanted to transfer. His father, in New York, and Masiello, recruiting in Chicago, spoke to him on a three-way phone call. Smith was on the verge of tears. To his father, transferring was not an option.
Im going to get on a plane and kick your a--, Big Russ said.
Big Russ never boarded that plane, but there were more turbulent times. Pitino attempted to mold Smith into an intelligent, collegian player in his system, but compared every possession with Smith leading the offense to having a nervous breakdown. Still, Pitino, who referred to Smith as Russdiculous for his unconventional shots, wound up molding his system to Smith. It all paid off last March during the NCAA Tournament when Smith emerged as the catalyst for the Cardinals run to the national semifinals.
Russ was 147 pounds when he came. He didnt really understand the game that well, Pitino says. Russ was just happy. He wanted to score 30-something points a game. Thats all he cared about. He doesnt do that anymore. Hes a big-time winner.
For all of the winning, Smith suffered his greatest loss in March. Curran died after battling kidney and lung problems and a broken kneecap in February. Smith learned the news from Molloy athletic director Mike McCleary when Smith called to offer Curran and McCleary tickets to Louisville's Big East Tournament game at Madison Square Garden that night. Smith cried on the team bus. Later that afternoon, OGrady, his old counterpart, was in spring training in Phoenix and sent Smith a text message.
Hey, make sure you go out and play well tonight.
Smith responded shortly: I got this.
In Louisvilles 74-55 win over Villanova, Smith scored 28 points on 7-of-12 shooting from the field. He noted that March 14 would forever be Jack Curran Day in his mind.
Its a testament to Coach, OGrady says. Its a testament to Russ.
There are four leather basketballs, each wrapped in white nylon nets, hanging above a hardwood floor inside Big Russ Barber Shop in Harlem. A plexi-glass backboard, replete with an iron rim, dangles from the center of the ceiling. On the back wall is Smith's No. 2 Louisville jersey encased in a glass frame.
Opening Day at Yankee Stadium, taking place a mile across the Harlem River, streams through the television screen in the shop, but discourse on Monday remains fixed on top-seeded Louisvilles Final Four prospects. Smiths father, who planned to fly to Atlanta Thursday, reflects on the road his son has taken, eschewing his own mistakes along the way. When I was growing up, Harlem was all about kill, kill, kill and take, take, take, Big Russ says. It was a different world. I never wanted Russ to be around that. His mom helped balance him. I just wanted to put the ball in his hands and let him go.
He leaves the shop, jumps in his white SUV, pulls off the curb and makes his way across the 145th Street Bridge to the Gauchos Gym. He walks past the retired college jerseys of Gaucho greats such as Kemba Walker, the former UConn point guard who led the Huskies to a title two years ago. As Big Russ stands on the sideline watching the next crop practice, a grade-school boy named Eric, a member of the development program, tells Big Russ that he watched his sons last game.
He scored 23 points! Eric says.
Big Russ laughs.
Everybody watching now, he says.
