The Master Of The Key

On Sept. 13, 1983, Dorothy complained of feeling ill and for the first time asked to leave the hospital before the end of her shift. She died at home two days later; she was 55. "Hard work killed that woman," says Mike Jarvis. "After his mother died, Patrick never mentioned leaving Georgetown for the pros again."

"What Patrick accomplished after that showed what kind of strong young man he is," says Thompson. "I've seen people fail who had his kind of advantages. But the Ewings take less credit than anyone. None of them sings his song."

Ewing certainly had a song worth singing in 1983-84. Georgetown, 34-3 for the season, won the Big East Championship by beating Syracuse 82-71 in overtime in Madison Square Garden. While much of the capacity crowd was distracted by Orangeman guard Dwayne (Pearl) Washington's 27-point scoring and by Hoya forward Michael Graham's shaved head and flying elbows, Ewing got a quiet 27 points and 16 rebounds. In a 37-36 win over SMU in the NCAA West regional, Ewing tapped in the game winner off a rebound of a missed free throw without benefit of inside position. Ewing's control was more subtle in the NCAA semifinal against Kentucky. He sagged off his man, 7'1" Sam Bowie, who couldn't hit the 15-to-17-foot jumper. Any shorter shot, by Bowie or another Wildcat, was subject to Ewing's close attention. Ewing blocks, or rather the fear of them, were the central factor in the Hoya win. Against both Kentucky and then Houston in the final, Ewing took early jump shots over Bowie and the Cougars' 7-foot Akeem Olajuwon. Whether or not he made them wasn't important. The point was that he could take them if the Hoyas needed them. Generally they didn't. They beat Houston 84-75. Ewing did nothing more spectacular than defend his own basket as if it were his home. The way Bill Russell used to do. Ewing and Olajuwon played to a statistical draw, but Ewing knew beforehand that that would mean victory for Georgetown.

There were no challenges for Ewing during the Olympics, so there was little he needed to do for Knight, whose team probably would have won the gold medal with Ewing home in bed. There was a brief span in the semifinal game against Canada, though, when Ewing showed what he could have done against the Russians, say. The U.S. led only 16-12 in the first half when Knight sent Ewing in for Wayman Tisdale, whose turn it had been to start at center. Ewing went baseline for a basket; broke up a pass; made two free throws; cupped a shot by Canada's Bill Wennington and fired an outlet pass that led to a score. When the U.S. lead had swelled to 16, Knight removed Ewing. Ewing passed by the coach slowly, expecting some acknowledgment. Knight, who had done all he could to keep the Olympians' egos under control, looked up and smiled, then slapped Ewing on the rear. The smile went as quickly as it came, but the implications were clear. Something had had to be done and Ewing had done it.

Says Thompson, "There's going to come a time when Pat Ewing tells John Thompson, 'I don't want to be bothered.' And I'm going to have to deal with that. Everybody who helped Patrick, including me, is involved in education and doing only what we are paid to do. But everyone likes to be a kingmaker. We have a tendency not to claim the ones who fail. I've spent as much time with other kids as with Patrick, kids who didn't turn out. So it's got to come from him. He made himself king."

Ewing is waiting to be interviewed in a small office in Georgetown's McDonough Arena. He sits deeply in a chair and rises from it, unfolding his long limbs easily. It's not his fault that it has taken a reporter two weeks to clear enough red tape to see Ewing for 30 minutes. That's the way it is at Georgetown. But once Ewing is allowed to speak, he talks easily. "The first thing Coach Jarvis taught me was defense," he says. "But I'm not Superman—I can't block every shot. The one thing Bill Russell suggested was to use my mind on defense."

It is Thompson's machinery that has kept Ewing so shielded from the public. Some have called it Hoya Paranoia. Where'd that 'dumb' rap come from? Indeed. It takes some doing, but a visitor can find Ewing in his senior studio—drawing and painting. Rarely do his works contain people. "I do landscapes," he says. "Still lifes." Has he ever tried drawing from his imagination? "That would not be realism, would it?" he answers.

"I've learned a great deal at Georgetown," he says. "Most definitely. Maturity, that's what college is for. Another thing my mother said was to put something away for a rainy day. I have to be able to work, do something with my life. I won't stop existing once I stop playing basketball. Georgetown educated me, and education is not just book knowledge."

Ewing says he isn't thinking yet about the NBA, but the NBA isn't so coy. The Dallas Mavericks, with three first-round draft picks, especially covet Ewing. But there's a new wrinkle in this year's NBA draft. The league's Board of Governors voted 20-3 (guess who was among the three) for a rule that will lead to the Ewing Lottery: The seven teams that don't make the playoffs will draw lots for the first draft pick. Last May the Portland Trail Blazers were fined $250,000 by NBA Commissioner David Stern for initiating conversations with Thompson about Ewing. Stu Inman, Portland's general manager, still complains about the severity of the fine. "I paraphrase Coach Thompson—'I think Patrick should know what he's turning down,' " says Inman. "I personally think we overreacted with this lottery because of concern that a couple of teams would play dead to get Ewing."

Why all this mad scurrying about? Because Ewing is the last of a cycle of notable college centers. If history somehow repeats itself, Ralph Sampson, the embodiment of cool finesse, might be the new Abdul-Jabbar. The fragile Bowie, skilled passer, rebounder and shot-blocker, could be another Bill Walton. Olajuwon—Nate Thurmond or Bob Lanier. Now comes Ewing, the last of this pack: Russell with a jump shot?