Junior forward perseveres through relatives dying young, knee injuries and doubters to find his way to Bulls.
By PETE YOUNG
Published December 29, 2003
TAMPA - Terrence Leather has bucked the odds since arriving in this world.
His father was murdered when he was an infant. He is the youngest of nine raised by a single mom in Tampa's Central Park public housing complex. He was pegged as a nonqualifier for college athletics until making a startling late turnaround at Robinson High.
His sister was murdered on Memorial Day just as he was about to head to South Florida, then he broke his kneecap that summer before his freshman year and broke it again after three college games.
"If I were writing a story about me it would be about how I grew up, just about all that I've been through," Leather said.
The story might be rejected because it strains credulity, but it has has all the earmarks of a quintessential Hollywood-style happy ending. Leather, 22, a redshirt junior forward, has arrived at the threshold of stardom.
The 6-foot-9, 221-pounder has led USF in scoring in four of the past five games and leads the Bulls in rebounding at 8.9 a game. His rapid ascension is the primary reason for optimism for the 4-5 Bulls, who have dropped five of six.
"I'm not surprised. I knew I could play this game," Leather said. "I was looking forward to this year. Coming into this season I felt like I hadn't accomplished anything. I knew I could contribute more."
The spider-limbed, wiry-strong Leather has emerged as USF's primary low-post option. His favorite player is Kevin Garnett, and Leather's physique and versatility - he could probably play small forward if USF was stronger on the interior - make him a confounding matchup.
After scoring a career-high 25 on Dec. 16 at Michigan State, USF first-year coach Robert McCullum said he would like to see Leather back up that performance before anointing him the go-to guy. Leather scored 41 in the next two games.
Now, he's the man.
"I'm trying to do that consistently," Leather said. "I'm just working hard, being dedicated to my game and trying to get better."
Leather has persevered through far more than his share of adversity, some of it his doing. A fiery spirit fuels his game but also has caused flareups with former coach Seth Greenberg and McCullum. Leather, however, said it's in the past.
"Coach McCullum tells me I need to think first when I get frustrated, so I don't (lash out)," Leather said. "Everything is falling into place. Everything is the way it's supposed to be."
Before the season, USF junior Brian Swift and senior Jimmy Baxter chose Leather as this season's breakthrough player. He averaged 7.6 points and 5.3 rebounds last season, but his teammates saw the potential for much more.
He got off to a sluggish start because of limited minutes and having few plays called for him, and it helped cause his early frustrations. He is averaging 22 points in his past three games, however, to raise his season average to 14.2, right behind Bradley Mosley's team-high of 14.3.
He also has an admirer in former USF women's great Wanda Guyton. Guyton, a Hillsborough High graduate, has known Leather for years and worked with him during several summers.
"I've seen the box scores (recently). I knew Terrence could do this," said Guyton, who was home last week on break from her professional team in Germany, TSV Wasserburg. "He is a great guy and deserves what is happening to him."
Leather says his mother, Martha Leathers, is his inspiration. He smiles when asked about her.
"Seeing my mother raise nine children by herself, I got that fight from my mother," said Leather, who had the "s" mistakenly dropped from the end of his name when it was switched from his father's (O'Neal) many years ago. "You can't teach how to rebound, it comes from within (points to his chest). I got that from my mother."
A tattoo with mom's name is one of three on Leather's left arm. The second is "Terren," for his daughter, who was born Oct. 2. The third is "Liz," for his deceased sister, Elizabeth O'Neal, who was stabbed to death 31/2 years ago by a woman with a broken bottle outside Martha Leathers' home.
"She was very special. We were very close," Leather said of his sister.
The strength gained through his travails is helping Leather strive to reach his potential.
"We've got to get this thing right," Leather said. "We can't be looking for excuses. We're all working hard to turn this around."
