Ellen
01-13-2006, 07:55 AM
http://www.mercurynews.com/mld/mercurynews/sports/colleges/santa_clara/13582065.htmhttp://ad.doubleclick.net/ad/mercurynews.sports/santa_clara;kw=center6;c2=colleges;c3=santa_clara; c4=santa_clara_homepage;pos=center6;group=rectangl e;ord=1137153029858? (http://forums.childrenwithdiabetes.com/)
R E L A T E D C O N T E N T
http://www.mercurynews.com/images/mercurynews/mercurynews/13584/184530705944.jpg
Chris Lee/St. Louis Post-Dispatch/KRT
Good as Adam Morrison is on the court, inspiring as he is off it, the future NBA ******* pick might be most interesting when he opens his mouth.
TONIGHT'S GAME: Gonzaga at Santa Clara 9 p.m. ESPN2
THERE IS INDEED NO STOPPING HIM
By Jon Wilner
Mercury News
It's tough to take your eyes off Gonzaga forward Adam Morrison, what with his shaggy hair, adolescent mustache, awkward jumper and otherworldly game. Morrison, who leads the Bulldogs against Santa Clara tonight, is the nation's top scorer and the best college player to perform in the Bay Area this season -- and that includes all the locals.
But the 6-foot-8 junior is just as intriguing during timeouts, when Morrison pricks his finger, tests his blood-sugar level and, if necessary, gives himself an insulin shot in the abdomen. A Type 1 diabetic, Morrison has become an inspiration to those with the disease.
``If he can play major college basketball and be the best player in America,'' Gonzaga Coach Mark Few said, ``then anybody can do anything with it.''
Good as he is on the court, inspiring as he is off it, Morrison might be most interesting when he opens his mouth. The future NBA ******* pick is one of the most thoughtful, well-read college athletes to come along in years.
His favorite books are ``The Art of War'' by Sun Tzu, the ``Autobiography of Malcolm X,'' ``The Wealth of Nations'' by Adam Smith, anything about Che Guevara and, um, ``The Communist Manifesto.''
Yep, Morrison has been fascinated with Karl Marx since he studied the Russian Revolution at Mead High School in Spokane, Wash. -- to the point that he has a poster of Marx in his bedroom. Once, after a bad stretch on the court, he ran past Few and apologized for ``playing like a communist.'' Another time, after Few encouraged his players to attend church, Morrison wrote on the grease board: ``Religion is the opiate of the masses.''
Morrison, 21, is not a communist, but he has a fondness for stimulating debate and an internal compass that points well left of the mainstream. His favorite band is Rage Against the Machine -- what did you expect, 'NSYNC? -- and he shed a few tears when the group broke up six years ago.
``Not that I'm a ticking time bomb, but you want to live life to the fullest,'' he said. ``I don't think I picked up the stuff I did because of diabetes, but it has led me to figure out what I like and dislike.''
About 1 million Americans have Type 1 diabetes, which most often strikes during childhood. The condition is deadly if ignored, and even with treatment can result in fatal heart attacks by 55. It is often hereditary, and there are diabetics on both sides of Morrison's family.
He was diagnosed with the disease May 2, 1999, after a stretch in which he lost weight and energy but had a ravenous appetite. His parents, John and Wanda, who are not diabetic, saw their fears confirmed by a blood-sugar test: a fasting blood glucose level below 125 was considered normal; Morrison's was 865.
He was hospitalized, stabilized and educated about the disease. When he's not playing, he wears an insulin pump that attaches to a small wire in his abdomen. He takes breaks during practice to test his glucose level, and he does not eat four hours before games -- the standard for college basketball players. Instead, Morrison waits until two hours before tipoff and consumes two five-ounce steaks, peas and a baked potato.
During timeouts, he pricks his finger, then puts a drop of blood on a test strip in a device called a OneTouch Ultra Meter. If his glucose level is too low, he drinks fruit juice, eats an energy bar or takes glucose tablets. If the reading is too high, he gives himself an insulin shot. And he does it all, with help of the team trainer, in time to listen to Few's final instructions.
``A lot of it depends on how badly my body reacts to the food I ate the day before,'' he said. ``Or the pace of the game.''
Morrison is not the first elite athlete to have Type 1 diabetes -- others have included Olympic-champion swimmer Gary Hall Jr. and Chicago Cubs icon Ron Santo -- but he might be the best known of those competing today. After a Sports Illustrated story in 2004 detailed his condition, Morrison received dozens of letters and calls from people asking to speak with him. He reportedly helped persuade two diabetic high school athletes in Washington state to wear insulin pumps.
``I'm an ambassador, but I'm not perfect,'' he said. ``It's nice for people to have a role model, but I'm going through the same thing as everybody else.''
Morrison might consider himself one of the masses, but he has a bourgeois game.
He has often been compared to Larry Bird, but other than shooting motion and the color of their skin, they don't have much in common. Bird was bigger than Morrison, a better rebounder and one of the greatest passers in history. Morrison's style is closer to that of Alex English, the former All-Star with the Denver Nuggets.
Taught by his father, who played at Northern Montana, Morrison excels at the mid-range shots that have become virtually obsolete in a game dominated by dunks and three-pointers. He has soft hands, an unusually high release on his jumper and the ability to score from odd angles, with defenders so close they can count cavities.
He also has a knack for producing big games on big stages. His first college basket came at Madison Square Garden, on a fadeaway jumper most freshmen would never attempt. Later that season, he burned undefeated Stanford for 20 points in 22 minutes in the Pete Newell Challenge -- many of them coming on high-arcing three-pointers that kept the Bulldogs from getting blown out.
``He's a shot maker,'' Few said. ``We have a drill at the end of practice where if a guy misses a free throw the team has to run. Adam will call bank on a free throw, then bank it in and turn around and stare at me.''
Morrison, who averages 27.6 points per game, launched his player-of-the-year campaign in November, when he became the first player from a losing team to be named MVP of the Maui Invitational since Penny Hardaway in 1992. He torched Maryland for 25 points, Michigan State for 43 and Connecticut for 18.
Opposing fans love to tease Morrison about his haircut -- ``Where's Scooby-Doo?'' is his favorite line -- but West Coast coaches hope this is his last trip through the conference. He is expected to enter the draft this spring, and should be a top-10 pick.
After Morrison scored 43 points at Washington, Huskies Coach Lorenzo Romar called him the best college scorer since Carmelo Anthony.
``He's entertaining to watch,'' Romar added. ``You find yourself just focusing on him. He's always moving and talking. People see that high release and think Larry Bird, but he's one of those guys who's his own guy. He's pretty special.''
R E L A T E D C O N T E N T
http://www.mercurynews.com/images/mercurynews/mercurynews/13584/184530705944.jpg
Chris Lee/St. Louis Post-Dispatch/KRT
Good as Adam Morrison is on the court, inspiring as he is off it, the future NBA ******* pick might be most interesting when he opens his mouth.
TONIGHT'S GAME: Gonzaga at Santa Clara 9 p.m. ESPN2
THERE IS INDEED NO STOPPING HIM
By Jon Wilner
Mercury News
It's tough to take your eyes off Gonzaga forward Adam Morrison, what with his shaggy hair, adolescent mustache, awkward jumper and otherworldly game. Morrison, who leads the Bulldogs against Santa Clara tonight, is the nation's top scorer and the best college player to perform in the Bay Area this season -- and that includes all the locals.
But the 6-foot-8 junior is just as intriguing during timeouts, when Morrison pricks his finger, tests his blood-sugar level and, if necessary, gives himself an insulin shot in the abdomen. A Type 1 diabetic, Morrison has become an inspiration to those with the disease.
``If he can play major college basketball and be the best player in America,'' Gonzaga Coach Mark Few said, ``then anybody can do anything with it.''
Good as he is on the court, inspiring as he is off it, Morrison might be most interesting when he opens his mouth. The future NBA ******* pick is one of the most thoughtful, well-read college athletes to come along in years.
His favorite books are ``The Art of War'' by Sun Tzu, the ``Autobiography of Malcolm X,'' ``The Wealth of Nations'' by Adam Smith, anything about Che Guevara and, um, ``The Communist Manifesto.''
Yep, Morrison has been fascinated with Karl Marx since he studied the Russian Revolution at Mead High School in Spokane, Wash. -- to the point that he has a poster of Marx in his bedroom. Once, after a bad stretch on the court, he ran past Few and apologized for ``playing like a communist.'' Another time, after Few encouraged his players to attend church, Morrison wrote on the grease board: ``Religion is the opiate of the masses.''
Morrison, 21, is not a communist, but he has a fondness for stimulating debate and an internal compass that points well left of the mainstream. His favorite band is Rage Against the Machine -- what did you expect, 'NSYNC? -- and he shed a few tears when the group broke up six years ago.
``Not that I'm a ticking time bomb, but you want to live life to the fullest,'' he said. ``I don't think I picked up the stuff I did because of diabetes, but it has led me to figure out what I like and dislike.''
About 1 million Americans have Type 1 diabetes, which most often strikes during childhood. The condition is deadly if ignored, and even with treatment can result in fatal heart attacks by 55. It is often hereditary, and there are diabetics on both sides of Morrison's family.
He was diagnosed with the disease May 2, 1999, after a stretch in which he lost weight and energy but had a ravenous appetite. His parents, John and Wanda, who are not diabetic, saw their fears confirmed by a blood-sugar test: a fasting blood glucose level below 125 was considered normal; Morrison's was 865.
He was hospitalized, stabilized and educated about the disease. When he's not playing, he wears an insulin pump that attaches to a small wire in his abdomen. He takes breaks during practice to test his glucose level, and he does not eat four hours before games -- the standard for college basketball players. Instead, Morrison waits until two hours before tipoff and consumes two five-ounce steaks, peas and a baked potato.
During timeouts, he pricks his finger, then puts a drop of blood on a test strip in a device called a OneTouch Ultra Meter. If his glucose level is too low, he drinks fruit juice, eats an energy bar or takes glucose tablets. If the reading is too high, he gives himself an insulin shot. And he does it all, with help of the team trainer, in time to listen to Few's final instructions.
``A lot of it depends on how badly my body reacts to the food I ate the day before,'' he said. ``Or the pace of the game.''
Morrison is not the first elite athlete to have Type 1 diabetes -- others have included Olympic-champion swimmer Gary Hall Jr. and Chicago Cubs icon Ron Santo -- but he might be the best known of those competing today. After a Sports Illustrated story in 2004 detailed his condition, Morrison received dozens of letters and calls from people asking to speak with him. He reportedly helped persuade two diabetic high school athletes in Washington state to wear insulin pumps.
``I'm an ambassador, but I'm not perfect,'' he said. ``It's nice for people to have a role model, but I'm going through the same thing as everybody else.''
Morrison might consider himself one of the masses, but he has a bourgeois game.
He has often been compared to Larry Bird, but other than shooting motion and the color of their skin, they don't have much in common. Bird was bigger than Morrison, a better rebounder and one of the greatest passers in history. Morrison's style is closer to that of Alex English, the former All-Star with the Denver Nuggets.
Taught by his father, who played at Northern Montana, Morrison excels at the mid-range shots that have become virtually obsolete in a game dominated by dunks and three-pointers. He has soft hands, an unusually high release on his jumper and the ability to score from odd angles, with defenders so close they can count cavities.
He also has a knack for producing big games on big stages. His first college basket came at Madison Square Garden, on a fadeaway jumper most freshmen would never attempt. Later that season, he burned undefeated Stanford for 20 points in 22 minutes in the Pete Newell Challenge -- many of them coming on high-arcing three-pointers that kept the Bulldogs from getting blown out.
``He's a shot maker,'' Few said. ``We have a drill at the end of practice where if a guy misses a free throw the team has to run. Adam will call bank on a free throw, then bank it in and turn around and stare at me.''
Morrison, who averages 27.6 points per game, launched his player-of-the-year campaign in November, when he became the first player from a losing team to be named MVP of the Maui Invitational since Penny Hardaway in 1992. He torched Maryland for 25 points, Michigan State for 43 and Connecticut for 18.
Opposing fans love to tease Morrison about his haircut -- ``Where's Scooby-Doo?'' is his favorite line -- but West Coast coaches hope this is his last trip through the conference. He is expected to enter the draft this spring, and should be a top-10 pick.
After Morrison scored 43 points at Washington, Huskies Coach Lorenzo Romar called him the best college scorer since Carmelo Anthony.
``He's entertaining to watch,'' Romar added. ``You find yourself just focusing on him. He's always moving and talking. People see that high release and think Larry Bird, but he's one of those guys who's his own guy. He's pretty special.''