Chris Duhon's statistics don't reveal his value to Duke.
By GARY SHELTON
Published April 3, 2004
SAN ANTONIO, Texas - A few trips up the court, a few trips back, and the pain returns. It's no worse, really, than someone trying to use his lungs as an accordion.
Still, Chris Duhon makes his coach breathe easier.
His shot is wobbly. He has missed three out of every four attempts he has taken in this tournament. He's averaging less than five points.
Still, Duhon makes his team dangerous.
Despite its ranking, despite its seeding, his team is an underdog. A nation that loves to watch his team lose fully expects to see it.
Still, Duhon makes his team formidable.
There are numbers, and there are players. There are statistics, and there are competitors. There are people who expect to score, and people who expect to win.
If you do not know the difference, you probably have not paid enough attention to Duhon, the heartbeat of the Duke basketball team.
This is Duhon's team, and it is riding on Duhon's journey. It is Duhon who has carried his teammates this far, and if they are to go further it will be because of Duhon. He is the voice, the face and the fire of the Duke team. It is Duhon who pumps the blue blood through the Blue Devils.
Glance casually at the boxscores, and they manage to keep Duhon's excellence a secret. There are players who score more and players who shoot better.
No one, however, plays the game harder, fiercer, better than Duhon. No one wins more little victories - sliding after a loose ball, making a defensive stop, getting the ball to the right teammate at the right time - than Duhon. He is a connoisseur's player, a collection of subtle moments that add up to more than a highlight film. He is not the blazing guitar or the outrageous drummer. He's the guy who wrote the darned song.
"I still don't think people realize all the things Chris does for us," teammate Daniel Ewing said. "Everyone thought he was going to be like Jason Williams, a point guard who was going to score 30 a game. That's not Chris' game."
What is Duhon's game? It's getting 10 rebounds and eight assists against Illinois despite his rib injury. It's calming J.J. Redick at halftime of the Alabama State game. It's telling other players to stop whining at halftime of the Xavier game. It's two steals away from the all-time lead in the NCAA Tournament. It's 123 victories (to 20 defeats) while at Duke.
Duhon's game, also, is walking onto the court, and he turns into a 56-year-old man. He turns, for all intents and purposes, into Mike Krzyzewski.
This isn't new. Krzyzewski expects this of all of his point guards. And who has had a better relay team than Duke, which has had Johnny Dawkins and Tommy Amaker and Quin Snyder and Chris Collins and Jeff Capel and Steve Wojciechowski and William Avery and Jason Williams. Now Duhon.
"I'm him (Krzyzewski) out there on that court," Duhon said. "It takes a lot of responsibility. He expects a lot of you. It's not scoring. It's being a leader. It's being his voice when guys don't understand what's going on."
Maybe that's why, from the moment Duhon hurt his rib cage by slapping into a stationary television camera during the ACC tournament, Krzyzewski has looked a little uncomfortable himself. How did it feel? Try wrapping rubber bands around your lungs. Now run around for a couple of hours. Like that.
"It was like three people squeezing me as hard as they could," Duhon said. "I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move."
Yet, he played. He controlled the rhythm of the game, he made the proper decisions and defensively he was an anchor around the leg of the other team's best players.
By now Krzyzewski will tell you he's in the co-pilot's seat at Duke. Duhon is in charge of the journey. "It was nice of him to bring us here," Krzyzewski said.
Odd. A year ago, Duhon was having trouble living up to his own expectations, not just Krzyzewski's. He tried to do too much as a junior, and when he fell short it turned him into a hermit. He retreated to his room, the joy of the game stripped from him.
Even now Duhon will tell you that those hard times helped make this season easier. This year Duhon has been the Blue Devils' unquestioned leader.
There are times, frankly, they don't look much like the Duke teams of recent vintage, the teams that always had a top-five draft pick, the teams that had every advantage and knew it, those smug teams that so many grew to despise.
There always has been a country-club feel to Duke, as if the Blue Devils were a group that had 98 percent of the edge and yet could not get over the missing 2 percent.
Still, how does anyone bear a grudge against a consummate team player such as Duhon? Even those who hate the Blue Devils have to love this guy. Don't they?
"How can they hate him?" Redick says. "Maybe because all he does is win, win, win, win, win."
Well, there is that.
Still, there is something pleasant to Duhon. He won't complain about his ribs. He won't embrace the role of underdog against UConn. And, as often as he passes, he will not lay the responsibility for tonight's outcome on anyone else.
