ESPN Men's Basketball

Originally Published: November 13, 2004

Most transfers are seeking redemption

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By Doug Gottlieb
Special to ESPN.com
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The doors creak open, revealing hanging rows of fresh, stark white uniforms. This same locker room that just last night was full of discarded ankle tape and sweaty practice gear now is pristine.

The distant echoes of the band warming up and the not-so-subtle pounding of the locker room stereo combine to form a bass-filled thumping. Guys are nodding their heads (not in conversation but in accordance with their own CD players). Someone breaks out the smelly ointment. Another player's warmups are too long or shorts are too short.

Now the coaches gather, just before the debut of a team most say will "prove the critics wrong" and live up to its potential. Time to pray. Whose turn is it? A senior steps in and shows how it is done. The players then huddle up, yell "Let's dance" in unison and out we go.

Smoke fills up the hallway, the crowd hushes and stands to welcome the team as I trot out onto the oldest basketball floor in the country. How the heck did I end up here in Stillwater? And how will my career end?

I started at Notre Dame, a freshman who came in with a lot of hype and promise, only to leave as a high school All-American gone bad. After a tumultuous season in which I led the Irish in assists and steals, was second in minutes played and started every game except the first four, things spiraled out of control. I returned from the Big East tournament not understanding the cliques that had formed in my dorm, but feeling a need for acceptance from what was largely a wealthy student body.

That need drove me to steal three credit cards to fund a $900 shopping spree that briefly helped soothe my bitterness. I was wrong, I was caught and I paid a steep price. I was asked to move on by Irish coach John MacLeod, landing at Golden West College, a two-year commuter school near my home in California. News of my crime and subsequent transfer made the L.A. Times, Orange County Register, Sports Illustrated and SportsCenter. Humbled and humiliated, I looked to move on with my life.

The buzzer sounds and the warmups are off. I choose a spot near the end of the bench. How will they introduce me? Will I go first or last? Do I want to go first or last? Oh good, not first, I hate standing out there all by myself. I think I may go last ... and my name is called. I calmly slap fives, give chest bumps and gather up the troops. If they only knew knew how excited I am to be back from the pit of despair, from being a punch line in the "whatever happened to" jokes. If they only knew.

Coach is talking ... don't really hear him. Relax, I've been here before. Started against Allen Iverson on Big Monday. This is North Texas, I can do this. What did he say he wants us to run? Did anyone hear anything he had to say? Ask the senior. Brett Robisch (another transfer, from Illinois two years ago) will know what he wants.

"He said to give me the f------ ball!"

Great, that was a big help. Forget it. Anyway, this team loves to press, and no one has ever pressed me and survived. Here comes the tip, I get the ball and magically everyone else seems to know where to go. Hey, I know this set. "Cowboy," I yell out, as if I had any idea 10 seconds ago. Adrian Peterson curls off a Robisch screen and I feed him perfectly. Pete catches and, in one motion, effortlessly drains a 15-footer. The crowd roars, the points go up and I say to myself, "Piece of cake."

There would be 13 more assists where that one came from on that cool November evening of 1997, but it was the first one that relaxed me and made me feel at home. Home was a strange word that never rang true until Oklahoma State.

This is my story, but it is similar to so many other tales of transfers who found another place. Sure, many of them were not charged with a crime, but all were looking for a rebirth of their basketball life. Think back to some of the great transfer stories of recent years. Names like Courtney Alexander, Tremaine Folkes, Todd Billet, Dahntay Jones, Luis Flores, Joey Graham, Dan Dickau, Lawrence Roberts and John Lucas are just a handful of the players who have indeed been reborn.

To tell what they are going through is to relate to our own lives. You know that feeling when you are around a group of people who have an inside joke and you don't know it. Most people know the desire you have to prove yourself immediately at a new job. Now think of this in terms of being a basketball player.

It is an odd feeling to make a new reputation for yourself. Given a new start, the last thing I wanted to be perceived as was selfish. That is one of the reasons I rarely shot the basketball for my first 10 games or so at Oklahoma State. I also had lifted hard all summer and that, along with my own mind games, had really hurt my shooting. The end result? By the time conference play started, I was locked into a role that limited my offensive productivity.

That's why many transfers come out firing in their first couple of games -- they may have come from places where they did not have that kind of opportunity and want to establish themselves quickly, before their previous reputation preceeds them. A coach may have a better feel for the normal transfer because he spends a year practicing with his new team before becoming eligible to play. This grace period allows players to work on their skills and coaches the chance to find out if they have any.

Is there a set timetable for the transfer to fit in? Not really. From my perspective, winning made everything feel more normal to me. I had consistently won in high school and didn't know how to react to losing at Notre Dame. The success I and we had at Oklahoma State made the transition much easier.

As the game ends, my mind starts racing again. Do we celebrate? Is there some tradition that I need to follow after a win? Are the coaches happy with what they saw? Should I have taken more shots?

I re-enter the locker room and see a bunch of smiling faces. I hear a voice. What's that you said? Oh, thanks for the compliment on the passing. "That's what I do."

I walk into the bathroom and look into the mirror, amazed at how much stronger and older I look. The face that stares back seems to be happy, yet still unsure. Everyone is waiting for coach to speak. He seems pleased.

One down and at least 26 to go. Things seem to be going well. Does this feel comfortable yet? Somewhat, but in due time, it will all work itself out.

Doug Gottlieb is a college basketball analyst for ESPN and the co-host of GameNight for ESPN Radio.