Kapono must soon choose whether to leave for NBA

  Jeff Agase Agase welcomes comments and
suggestions on how to spend his newfound fortune at [email protected].

Dear Jason,

Hey. How’s it going? Big day coming up. May 13. I know
you’ve been thinking about it. You played it off well enough
during the season to keep most of us quiet about your seemingly
inevitable departure to the NBA. But now it’s April 10 and
you’ve got about a month.

A month. That’s it. I hate to stir up an even larger sense
of urgency, but you and the rest of the basketball guys savor this
kind of pressure, right?

You guys relish proving everyone in the nation wrong. You love
making Dick Vitale look like Dick Nixon. Just when everyone counts
you out, you’re in.

Well right now, just about everyone’s counting you out.
Out, as in out of Westwood. Not all of you basketball guys. Just
you, Jason.

Inside sources have you gone. Outside sources have you gone.
This season, armed with one of the deadliest jump shots in the
nation, you averaged 17.2 points per game and led the team in
scoring half the time.

I thought about saying that you led YOUR team in scoring. But
this wasn’t your team. It was Earl’s team, and
that’s OK. The point is that the 2001-2002 Bruins can be YOUR
team.

UCLA once again welcomes one of the top recruiting classes in
the country next season. Cedric Bozeman is as good as any incoming
point guard in America and Dijon Thompson has the size of a forward
but the outside game of a guard.

Then there’s that guy Spencer Gloger. You know all about
him, but most of our campus doesn’t. He hit ten
three-pointers in a game at Princeton to tie an Ivy League record.
He had to sit out this year, but he’ll be out on the Pauley
Pavilion floor knocking down outside bombs in no time.

Earl’s gone, and so are Moose Bailey and Jason Flowers,
but everyone else should be back. Your Herculean center Dan
Gadzuric thought about testing the NBA waters for two years but
should be back for a senior season. So will Matt Barnes, once an
unlikely performer but now a pillar of team strength. Billy Knight
will join you to play the two-man outside game and Ray Young checks
in with suffocating defense.

Hmmm, let’s see here: a point guard with size, a powerful
front line with two of the best big men in the conference and a
complimentary shooting guard with deft range from the outside.

Sounds like a legitimate Pac-10 contender. Guess what it’s
missing?

You. Without you, this team is a winner. With you, this team is
a champion.

Of course, there is the alternative. The NBA will surely bring
you fortune, fame, personal satisfaction and success ““ if you
play for one of about six teams. Otherwise, you’re relegated
to a sub-.500 club in one of the hallowed meccas of basketball. You
know, places like Gund Arena in Cleveland or Phillips Arena in
Atlanta.

Here at UCLA, students camp outside of legendary Pauley Pavilion
for days for arena level seats in one of the nation’s most
storied venues. Some would call that unique. Hey, you never
know. Maybe if you play for the Nets you’ll get the
“unique” privilege of attempting to sidestep one of
Jersey’s finest drifters who “slept out” for a
marquee matinee against Vancouver.

Here at UCLA, you compete for women with guys like me. I’m
5-foot-9 on a warm day and 145 pounds ““ with rocks in my
pockets. In the NBA you’d be pitting (or should I say
spitting) your game up against Casanovas like Grant Hill and
charmers like Shawn Kemp.

But I’m sure you’ve done the whole
“Pro-Con” thing.

On the one hand, you have guaranteed minutes, a proven winner
and a world-class education.

On the other hand, you might have a fight for playing time, the
lowly Chicago Bulls and unfinished academic business.

I’m also sure, however, that most of us here at UCLA
can’t possibly comprehend what it feels like to have millions
of dollars waved in front of our faces. I personally am still giddy
after winning $20 at a Native American casino this past
weekend.

UCLA can’t offer you money (legally, at least). It
can’t offer you your face on a trading card. What it can
offer you is immortality. A legacy.

There was a guy who played here in the late 1980s by the name of
Don MacLean (no, not the guy who sang “American Pie”).
Heralded as a national standout with court savvy and a knack for
always finding a way to score (sound familiar?), MacLean was a
scorching commodity for NBA scouts. But he decided to stay. Now
he’s the answer to a trivia question that every UCLA
basketball player wants to be the answer to: Who is UCLA’s
all-time leading scorer?

You’re in striking distance of his record. But you
probably know that. Enough people have told you how good you are to
cover that important statistic.

And you know what? They’re right. You’re good enough
to be one of the few names that routinely comes up in conversation
when people speak of the greatest UCLA basketball players of all
time. Alcindor. Wilkes. Walton. Goodrich. Miller.
O’Bannon.

I’m not here to grovel, so don’t misconstrue my
intentions. Life will go on if you decide to leave Westwood. The
team you may leave will challenge for the Pac-10 title, the stars
will shine and the unknowns will become known.

Your life will go on, too. You won’t be at Senior Day. No
big deal. You won’t ever call yourself a Pac-10 champion. I
bet it’s not that great anyway. You won’t experience
the exhilaration of the Final Four. So what? That Battier guy
didn’t look that happy.

And your name will be lost in UCLA lore, buried deep in the
media guide, brought up on occasion along with those of JaRon Rush,
Jerome Moiso, and Baron Davis.

But this is it. This is the NBA. Nothing could possibly be
better.

Right?