
On Tuesday evening, 18 of the top teenage basketball players in America gathered on the Washington Wizards' practice court at the Verizon Center. The players had been invited by USA Basketball to try out for the team that will compete at the FIBA Americas Under-18 Championship tournament in Argentina later this month. When it came time for full-court scrimmaging, Lance Stephenson, the much-heralded guard who has led Brooklyn's Lincoln High to three consecutive New York City championships, tried taking over the point guard duties. Stephenson wanted to show off the skills he picked up at Nike's Steve Nash camp last month, but he turned in an awful performance. He dribbled into traffic and committed sloppy turnovers. He fired no-look passes that sailed out of bounds. He drove to the basket and heedlessly forced up bad shots. Even worse, after every mistake he acted like it was someone else's fault. He barked at his teammates. He whined to the refs. He rolled his eyes and slapped his thighs. He shook his head and muttered to himself. In other words, he acted like what he is: a 17-year-old kid. This may come as a surprise to those who have already proclaimed Stephenson to be the next big thing. We're told he's the next Stephon Marbury or Sebastian Telfair, just because he plays for Lincoln like they did. We're told he's the next O.J. Mayo, whom he once challenged at a recruiting camp when Stephenson was a high school freshman. (I was there; Mayo schooled him) Lance is supposed to be the next LeBron, the next Kobe, the next Carmelo. It's a safe bet nobody would say those things about Stephenson if he were from, say, Phoenix instead of New York. At any rate, Stephenson demonstrated quite clearly at the Team USA trials that he is none of those things -- not yet, anyway. To be sure, he deserves to considered among the best 10 or 15 high school seniors in America, which is where most scouting services rank him. At 6-foot-5, 202 pounds, Stephenson was the most physically developed player at the trials. When the coaches made the players run the length of the court and back within 10 seconds, Stephenson completed the sprints way ahead of the pack. He also displayed a fierce will, which, combined with his speed and strength, enabled him to score a ton of baskets around the rim. But the immaturity evinced in his body language was enough of a concern that Tom Konchalski, the longtime high school talent scout based in Queens, N.Y., pulled Stephenson aside before the evening session on Wednesday to give him a pep talk. Earlier that day, Konchalski had eaten lunch with Davidson coach Bob McKillop, the U.S. team's head coach, and Syracuse coach Jim Boeheim, who was chairing the committee that will select the team. Konchalski told Lance that the coaches were, in Tom's words, "down on him" because of the way he had been acting. Stephenson apparently took that counsel to heart, because he was considerably more effective and even-keeled during Wednesday evening's practice. Like all teenagers, Lance has a lot of growing up to do, if only the world will give him a little breathing room to do it. "Just because he has the body of a man doesn't mean we should expect him to have the maturity of a man," Konchalski said. "He's the result of our warped basketball culture. He's never faced adversity. He's always been the golden child. Believe me, he's not a bad kid and he has a world of talent, but he has to learn how to deal with frustration." During the first two days of practice, McKillop made a point several times to pull Stephenson aside and gently give him encouragement and advice. On Thursday morning, however, McKillop told Stephenson's father, Lance Sr., that he was going to "bust [Lance's] butt" for the next two weeks. Lance Sr. told McKillop that was what they came for. Sure enough, McKillop jumped in young Lance's face during the ensuing practice and ripped him for not paying close enough attention during a drill. (McKillop had gotten hot at other players previously, but that was the first time all week he dropped an f-bomb.) To Lance's credit, he didn't pout or withdraw after McKillop's mini tirade. He simply dove into the next drill as hard as he could. "A lot of times someone with his talent doesn't have the competitive fire that he has," McKillop said. "But that competitive fire can burn other ways, too. If he can channel that properly, he has a chance to be a superb player."
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