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College basketball: March Madness 2005
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No happy ending for Wolfpack star
By GARY SHELTON
Published March 26, 2005
SYRACUSE, N.Y. - Sometimes, the best stories end badly. Sometimes, the most delightful characters leave in tears.
It was over now for Julius Hodge, the career and the controversies, the triumphs and the taunting. He walked quickly and quietly from the floor, as if trying to distance himself from his misery. He did not succeed.
His face was tight, his eyes were wounded.
His career was over.
Hodge had carried his North Carolina State team all the way to the Sweet 16, but once here, he dropped them. In his biggest game, on his biggest stage, he had been awful, spectacularly horrible, and as the Wolfpack blew a 10-point lead to Wisconsin, he seemed helpless in his attempts to stop it.
In the storybooks, this never happens. In the storybooks, characters such as Hodge win in the end. They hit a 3. They drive the basket. They put out a fire. Something.
Real life is something else. Real life is pain.
Hodge kept talking about how he didn't have to hang his head, and still he kept hanging his head. He rubbed his face once, again, still again. He talked about his effort, about doing all he could, about not being ashamed. Still, his voice quaked. His words sounded hollow.
He had hit only four shots out of 16, all from short range. He had only five rebounds as Wisconsin dominated the boards. He had five assists, but he had three turnovers. He missed both his 3-point shots, one of them an airball. He was ordinary. When the game counted most, he was invisible.
This is not how it is supposed to end for one of the grand characters of college basketball. This was supposed to be his night, his stage.
They know Hodge in Syracuse. As a high school senior, Hodge had dared to pick N.C. State over the Orange, a slight the local basketball fans never had forgotten. Hodge was taunted from the time he placed a sneaker onto the court.
That was fine with Hodge, who has been taunted throughout his career. Even in a league with Duke's J.J. Redick, Hodge was the fashionable player to hate for N.C. State's opponents. He had a big mouth. He was a showboat. Yet, to the Wolfpack, Hodge was colorful and charismatic. He was the guy who once, during a free throw, leaned over to untie the shoelaces of North Carolina's Marvin Williams. He was the guy who ripped the Cameron Crazies of Duke by suggesting that "no guy with a 4.5 gpa, acne and bad breath was going to influence my play." For a while, he used to run downcourt and pantomime slapping a horse and circling a lasso.
In a sport in which college stars are pushed toward blandness and instructed on cliches, there was something fresh about Hodge, the skinny kid from Harlem. There was a flair to him, a personality. He told jokes. He drove opponents crazy. He nicknamed himself "Da Jules of Harlem on His Away 2 Stardom."
Of course, it helped that Hodge was also this amazing blend of talents - sleek, swift and supremely smug - who helped turn the Wolfpack fortunes around. He is one of four players to get 2,000 points, 700 rebounds and 400 assists in his career.
Without Hodge, North Carolina State doesn't make the tournament this year. Without Hodge, it doesn't beat defending national champion UConn. Without Hodge, the program is probably searching for a new coach to replace Herb Sendek.
All of which is why an evening such as this seemed promised to Hodge. He was the favorite son who did not leave, the player who would not sell his love of his school.
A year ago, when Hodge was ACC player of the year, there was much speculation that he would turn pro. Doesn't everyone? Hodge walked into his news conference wearing a Knicks jacket, and he solemnly said he was going to the NBA.
Then he grinned and said, "Gotcha." He was coming back. His mother had told him she wanted a diploma.
"Being poor one more year isn't going to hurt anyone," he said the other day. "I've eaten my share of mayonnaise sandwiches."
This is his reward? A miserable finish to a wonderful career? A lousy game to cap the great memories? A night when his fury cannot outweigh his flaws?
For Hodge, that last season exposed his most fatal flaw. Frankly, he can't shoot. He is a great penetrator, and he plays with a wonderful passion, but his offensive game consists of taking the nearest tunnel to the basket.
The Badgers were able to stop that Friday night, and as a result they were able to overcome their own horrible start. The first half was as if an NIT game had broken out ... from 1943. Wisconsin had 11 turnovers and zero assists in the first half. If Hodge had been even pretty good, the Wolfpack could have run away.
Then there was the second half, when the game was close and you could see his teammates look in his direction. As always, it was Hodge's game to win. This time, he couldn't.
Down the stretch, Hodge had several lanes to the basket, but every time he would shoot, it would sound like pipes dropping. He simply couldn't finish. It must be nice to live in the storybooks. What a treat it would have been to see Hodge lift his team one more time, maybe two or three, and will it to victory. It would have been nice to see the smile again, to hear the jokes.
Instead, the final chapter was a man with wounded eyes trying desperately not to acknowledge his pain.
This night, sadly, Hodge couldn't quite finish that, either.
[Last modified March 26, 2005, 01:09:10]
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