The press pass: behind Gonzaga's Big Monday basketball scene

I covered the Gonzaga men's basketball game last (mid)night to little excitement. You can check out my story here. For those of you who weren't looking for a cure for insomnia, the game was overshadowed by a man who brought a renewed meaning to the chant "drive home safely" and is "selfishly" seeking a milestone 800th win (the Spokesman-Review's John Blanchette's words, though I agree — to a degree). It was truly a devastatingly boring game, and the Zags phoned in  a victory in the closing minutes of the contest, instead of stamping out a convincing win in this, the final tune-up before they face No. 1 ranked Memphis on Saturday.

Since you're probably like me and you don't care about Eddie Sutton, a basketball game played way too late on the Worldwide Leader or any of the other garbage that is attached to what amounts to a meaningless conference game, I will try to give you a glimpse of what happens behind Gonzaga's college basketball scene.

I sat next to scouts last night from the Suns, Raptors and Rockets on press row. I exchanged only a few words with the gentlemen, and nearly lost my ability to communicate (shocking, I know) when a large man with bananas for fingers who was representing the Phoenix Suns asked me for "the first name of that Daye kid's father."

"Uhh... Darin?" I sputtered.

So the suits were apparently there for Austin Daye, who has been a media darling of late. It's probably deserved: his silky jumper, the "upside," the NBA pedigree... it makes sense for the Jay Bilas' of the world (read: those obsessed with potential). And they may have been there for Josh Heytvelt, who disappointingly only managed a handful of points. After the game, I overheard him remark to an unidentified friend in the stands that it "was probably the worst game I've ever played." 

And maybe they were there for Jeremy Pargo, who dished six assists and committed only one turnover. Or maybe it was Matt Bouldin, or maybe the ghost of Adam Morrison. Or maybe they were just looking for a long weekend in tropical Spokane.

Whatever the reason, it almost certainly was not for starting freshman guard Steven Gray, who has flown under the radar of the national media, most of Gonzaga's fan base and even opposing coaches. Eddie Sutton's Dons did not seem prepared for the kid, who dropped a career high 16 points. It wasn't exactly Mayo-esque, but it was impressive. The Dons did not seem to have a answer for his length, explosiveness and basketball IQ.

It may seem like I'm making a big deal over a kid who seems to already have a big future ahead of him. But I'll tell you one thing: Steven Gray is the real deal. I'm a true believer in Daye, and I think he has the potential to mature into one of the best scorers Gonzaga has seen. Once he starts eating, like, hamburgers and lard and the fat off John Bryant's oversized body, I think he'll see his abilities soar. 

For Gray to continue to improve, I think he has little more to do than staying healthy and continuing to work hard. I spoke to him after the game, and he is one of the most approachable guys on the team. I waited for Howie Stalwick and a reporter from the AP to clear out so I could have the chance to talk to him, to level with him on a student-to-student basis. I expected a nervous kid, one who would negotiate the ennui of a post-game interview by relying on the crutch of cliches.

And he did use some of the "one-game-at-a-time" B.S. that has come to define sports-talk. "We weren't looking ahead to Memphis..." Yeah, whatever. 

But I respect that. On this Gonzaga team — on any team coached by a competent leader (Mark Few) — media declarations make for unwanted distractions and bulletin board material (see: New England Patriots). But I was impressed with Gray's composure and the genuine-nature of his words and body language. He made eye contact through the duration of our conversation, and smiled at my questions in between signing autographs. 

Toward the end of the dialogue I had a human-to-human moment with the kid, instead of a journalist-to-human moment:

Me: "So are you nervous to play Memphis next Saturday? You will be starting, right?"

Him: "No... I'm not nervous."

Me: "Really?"

Him: "...Not yet anyway," he admits while still grinning.

Look, if I were him I would have already talked to my pharmacist about prescription drugs for anxiety. The no. 1 team in the nation! He very well could be guarding Derrick Rose or Chris Douglas-Roberts. And as I called his bluff, he handled the situation with moxie.

As a journalist, roboticism runs rampant through the industry. Stories have a format, interviews learn an "arc of progression" in which they are encouraged to ask difficult questions, interviewees have a carefully planned strategy to dodge those questions and readers have a mechanized resistance to reading computerized crap. But Steve was approachable, sincere and polished. 

Here's to hoping he can remain as composed next Saturday.