Lobo J.R. Giddens seeks to rise above the labels
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During his sophomore year at Kansas, New Mexico guard J.R. Giddens tattooed "Philippians 4:13" - "All things are possible through Christ who strengthens me" - around a basketball on his shoulder. "I don't have great church attendance, but I do believe in God and that everything he does has a purpose," Giddens said. "All the things I do on the court are possible because of him."
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J.R. Giddens and his barber Dennis Hubbard laugh as Darryl Dillahunty (seated left) and John Lewis discuss the responsibility of black men to give back to their communities. Giddens explained his philosophy on the role of an athlete while having his hair trimmed inside the barbershop on Kathryn Avenue. "We're role models," he said. "Most kids don't look up to lawyers and doctors, they look up to athletes, so it's good to give back."
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"Coach (McKay) is harder on me than anybody else because there are more expectations on me to perform," said Giddens (reaching into the huddle before a game against BYU). "He can't tell anyone of the others to go out there and just do it. I get it done."
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J.R. Giddens signs autographs as fans dangle over the rail separating the stands from the ramp leading to the locker rooms in The Pit. "When I was little, it brightened my day to meet an athlete that I looked up to," Giddens said. "Being able to brighten somebody's day makes you feel good."
Layered in the multicolored personality of J.R. Giddens lies a Steve Urkel.
It started as an 8-year-old out of Oklahoma City, when Giddens masqueraded as the suspender-wearing, buck-toothed TV goof for Halloween or around the house.
Mister Rogers was another favorite of the young Giddens.
"He had on Air Jordans with a Mister Rogers outfit for an elementary school performance," said Charles Giddens, J.R.'s father. "It was so funny. He had the best show in the class. He always knew how to be a fun kid."
Being a "fun kid" has never been the problem for Giddens. The real challenge is trying to define someone who refuses to be defined.
Giddens, a University of New Mexico guard, is both fun-loving and somber. He's a goofy Steve Urkel or a high-flying Steve Francis.
He's flexing muscles to The Pit crowd or running out of The Pit's backdoor refusing interview requests.
He'll shoot 3-of-13 or 10-of-13.
He's a promising NBA star or the same guy who carried nothing but 48 cents and a Treo cell phone in his pockets on a Monday evening after practice.
"This is the enigma, the paradox of J.R. Giddens," said Al Johnson, Giddens' former AAU coach and current assistant with Texas A&M. "People look at him with the selfish, pretty-boy thing, but the biggest person he was loving was a goof like Steve Urkel. You can't explain it. He's got a lot of ways about him, but he's a wonderful kid, a sweet kid."
One thing is evident after watching Giddens in conversation or pulling up from 10 feet - he's talented.
That's the Giddens language everyone can understand. Coach Ritchie McKay calls Giddens a "potential lottery pick." Giddens competed against LeBron James in a McDonald's slam-dunk contest.
But maybe the only person who understands the depth of Justin Ray Giddens is himself.
"Nobody really knows me," said Giddens, who turns 22 on Tuesday. "I am what I am. I'm what God created me to be - J.R. I'm sensitive, caring, sharing, smooth, sexy, passionate, gorgeous, athletic, charismatic, charming, unpredictable, mysterious, misjudged and I have a dark side. I can be really defensive and closed off and frustrated."
Giddens describes himself vastly different from his not-so-flattering public portrayal.
A high-profile athlete since his days as a McDonald's All-American out of John Marshall High School, Giddens' career has been outlined by trouble and promise.
Giddens mutually agreed with coach Bill Self to transfer from Kansas in 2005 after his part in a bar fight. He pleaded no contest to a misdemeanor battery charge, and was ordered to one-year probation and a two-day anger-management class after being stabbed in the leg as a result of the fight at Moon Bar, a then-popular nightclub. Jeremiah Creswell hit Giddens inside the club before Giddens and a group of men attacked a knife-wielding Creswell outside, according to reports. Giddens didn't throw the first punch that night, according to reports.
When recouping from the stabbed leg, "friends" at Kansas, including some teammates, didn't support him like he had hoped, he said.
To add to the hardship, the "selfish" and "bad attitude" labels have haunted Giddens since he left the Jayhawks.
The New Mexico journey hasn't been completely smooth. A nagging ankle injury, the occasional removal from the starting lineup by coach Ritchie McKay and the shooting struggles (43 percent from the field at 16.2 points per game) might be enough to pause the NBA draft plans for another year.
Giddens admits it's partly his fault for feeling "misunderstood." There are repercussions when you make mistakes, he said.
New Mexico has been Giddens' landing strip for recovery.
"I'd rather run from confrontation, but sometimes it just seems to surround you," Giddens said. "I'm like a snake - when you feel threatened, you're ready to strike. I don't feel that way here. I might have my moments. I don't let many people in my circle of friends because of what I've been through, but those who know me know I'm just a kid at heart, a happy-go-lucky guy off the court and a competitor on the court."
A Kansas sports information director said Self declines interviews regarding former players.
Giddens' father tells him to focus on bettering himself without worrying about pleasing others.
"He's still trying to change," Charles said. "When kids try to re-do the past, it can become a job. Everybody has an opinion, and J.R. has given opportunities for people to give their opinion. I think he'll look back on these years and become a better man because of them."
The molding of Giddens began in the surburban area of Yukon, outside Oklahoma City.
Charles worked for Dayton Tire for almost 24 years before workers went on strike about six years ago, Giddens said. Yukon High School was a predominantly white institution that helped Giddens adapt to different surroundings, he said.
His young days were as simple as making Kool-Aid, Giddens' drink of choice when playing basketball with his cousin Ricco Langs at 2 a.m. Basketball was the only late-night activity Giddens was permitted in what he called a strict household, a place with "100 commandments" instead of the Bible's Ten Commandments.
The talent of Giddens at age 9 was evident to Langs.
Praise from Langs, a former Amateur Athletic Union star, was a huge deal to Giddens, who said he modeled his game after his cousin.
"The stuff (Giddens) would pick up so quickly was unbelievable," Langs said. "He was so young doing crossovers and left-handed layups, the whole deal. . . . We'd go to the house and drink Kool-Aid after we played."
Charles now works as a food-supplies manufacturer to provide a two-bedroom apartment on 122nd Street for wife Dianna and Giddens' 15-year-old sister, Breeanna.
This is manual labor, Giddens said, the type of work that invites a callous.
Coupled with Charles' 12-hour work days is mother Dianna's emphysema from years of smoking that requires her to be on oxygen 24 hours a day, Giddens said.
These reminders make Giddens eager to support his family financially.
The money in the NBA can help.
"It really hurts me to see my dad working so hard and my mom struggling," Giddens said. "I want it so they can relax, so they don't have to worry about anything. I hate sometimes that I'm here and I can't do anything about it. My parents are patient, and they want me to experience things and not worry about them, but I always will."
Never was this more evident than during his freshman year at Kansas, when his mother was put into a medically induced coma for five months.
Giddens became apprehensive about his mother's recovery and well-being. He also felt helpless, he said.
The phone call from Charles delivering the news was earth-shattering for Giddens.
"He said mom's not doing too well, so I thought, `Is my mom dying?' " Giddens said. " `Please don't tell me this is happening.' I wanted to help so bad, but I had a phone and I had basketball (at Kansas) and that's it. I wasn't there. That was tough, knowing that I wasn't with my family (except) the times I flew home to see her. I remember breaking down at a couple of practices. That's why you'll always see me put my fist in the air before games. That's for her."
Dianna, who has recovered from the coma, declined comment for this story.
Years later, Giddens sometimes wished it was still all about basketball and Kool-Aid.
The affable, often outspoken Giddens touts an "image is everything" motto.
But echoes of the dreaded "selfish" label applied to Giddens in the past presently make him cringe, he said.
Giddens and his friends and family have reasons for why he's not selfish.
He only took about nine shots per game at Kansas, Johnson will tell you. Giddens averaged 10.7 points and 3.7 rebounds per game as a Jayhawk.
He tries to make his teammates better, Giddens says.
McKay said Giddens is taking every step to outstrip the label.
Those steps include humility, passion, unity, discipline and thankfulness - all things Giddens is learning every day in this program, McKay said.
"J.R. has learned to be a better teammate, and he cares more about his teammates than he does himself," McKay said. "He's becoming a more mature, responsible young man."
The highlight of this season, Giddens says, is throwing an alley-oop to teammate Tony Danridge against Utah.
"I get more pumped for something like that than when I score," Giddens said. "I admire players like LeBron (James) and Magic (Johnson) because they pass well. I want my teammates to get plenty of credit."
Giddens acknowledges taking ill-advised shots at times this year or not always making the right pass.
But when the offense is designed to go through a player, teammate Aaron Johnson said, he's supposed to take shots.
"You can't blame him for doing that," Johnson said.
The offense seems to have restructured in recent weeks. Danridge (13.4 points per game) is more of a focal point. In games past, 50 percent of the offense seemed to be Giddens taking it at the top of the key while teammates hibernated.
"We don't go as J.R. goes (anymore)," McKay said. "J.R.'s talent is absolutely exceptional. That's why so many NBA scouts come to the game. Jerry West doesn't come to a lot of games, but he came to our game (against San Diego State). When his talent is combined with the effect on a game, that's when he'll be an NBA player, a potential lottery pick."
If being selfish is caring about how you're perceived, then Giddens is guilty.
Appearance matters, Giddens said. So does the haircut. The way you smile, the way you talk, the way you wink at a member of The Pit crowd when you dunk.
It's all methodical, Giddens said, though the key is not trying to please everybody.
"I was always taught to present yourself in the right manner," Giddens said. "It does bother me when people say I'm selfish because that's just not me. It really gets to me."
With maturity comes self-evaluation for Giddens.
He sizes people up, analyzing their every move because he doesn't always know whom to trust, he said.
He's sensitive to what people say, he said.
Johnson, who has had his share of legal trouble, said his buddy is more caring than people think.
"He was one of the only guys there for me when I was going through my (arrest for fighting police officers in downtown Albuquerque)," Johnson said. "He was encouraging about it. If he was selfish, he wouldn't have done that. With a lot of talk and a great personality, people take that as cocky or arrogant. But sometimes you have to be cocky to be successful.
"He's seen that I've done a better job of controlling my temper and that's helped him. He's trusting people more."
The verdict is still out as to whether Giddens can lead the Lobos to unprecedented heights.
This much is certain: J.R. Giddens isn't living in Mister Rogers' neighborhood