There Was No Way Nation’s Top Player Could Settle For Less

So what is he?

A 3? He looks like a 3. He’s 6 feet 8 inches and lean, so he must be a 3.

But he guards 4s and he rebounds like a 4. So is he a 4?

He can guard a 2, too, so is he sort of an elongated 2 in disguise?

The man handles it like a lot of 1s. He’s certainly not a 1, but in a pinch …

Oh, and, um, don’t forget that he posts folks like a very seasoned 5.

Who aside from a few brain-dead tout-sheet publishers cares, anyway? You can call Ed O’Bannon a 1 (point guard), 2 (off guard), 3 (small forward), 4 (power forward) or 5 (center). The truth is, he’s just a basketball player who happens to be the heart, soul, guts, fiber and corpuscles of the best college basketball team in the land.

The UCLA people swear that the Ed O’Bannon on display during the NCAA tournament is the Ed O’Bannon they saw during the regular season. If that’s the case, then anyone out West who says there is an inherent Eastern bias toward players who perform on this side of the Mississippi speaketh the truth. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Forgive us, Father, for we have sinned grievously, because if the NCAA tournament Ed O’Bannon is the normal Ed O’Bannon, then he should have won every Player of the Year award available.

On very rare occasions, a highly skilled player brings something more to the table than sheer physical ability. Though coaches love to rattle on about so-and-so’s “leadership ability,” most of these little speeches are boiler-plate testimonials geared to make the coach himself sound lofty and high-minded. The biggest executive decision most of these 21-year-old “leaders” ever make is choosing Burger King over McDonald’s for the postgame snack.

Ed O’Bannon is the exception. He is a 22-year-old man who on Monday evening led some boys to the national championship. It was more than the 30 diversified points, the 17 heavy-duty rebounds, the three assists or the three steals. A lot of players can put up numbers. Only the select few have an eerie presence.

This may not show on television. It became chic this past weekend to say that it is impossible to gauge speed by watching someone on TV or videotape, that it was necessary to be there in person to see and feel the impact an individual’s quickness has on an opponent. It is likewise difficult to assess the impact of a player’s drive, aggression, intelligence, competitiveness and sheer personality on his teammates without bearing witness to it in person.

There was idle and foolish talk among some who really should know better that the key player in UCLA’s 89-78 victory over Arkansas was dynamic freshman Toby Bailey. The kid was utterly fabulous, no question. He performed astonishing athletic feats worthy of a Dr. J or (swear to God) Michael Jordan. But the best player on the floor? The key individual? Preposterous. This was Ed O’Bannon’s showcase. This is, in fact, Ed O’Bannon’s championship.

Jim Harrick knows it.

“He has been the player I remember as a high school player,” says the UCLA mentor. “He’s been fantastic - polished and dominating. I really have a lot of admiration for him. He’s a great leader, a humble guy, with no ego at all. He’s a warrior, he’s got a big heart and he’s so unselfish.”

“Ed O’Bannon is a great basketball player,” agrees Arkansas coach Nolan Richardson. “He’s a truly great All-American, and he proved that in a game which meant so much to both teams.”

No player in the country wanted a championship more than Ed O’Bannon; it just isn’t possible. For no other player of consequence has traveled his road. O’Bannon was as big a high school star as it gets. He had been tagged the “left-handed James Worthy” when he was 15, and he was living up to that label when he sustained a tear of the anterior cruciate ligament in his left knee during preseason practice in 1990. His injury was big news in basketball circles, and the general assumption was that O’Bannon would never be worth anything, and isn’t that too bad, but hey, that’s the way it goes.

So imagine his satisfaction level this season as he put on nightly shows of great virtuosity, doing whatever it would take for UCLA to win. Bolstered by the Achilles’ tendon from a cadaver where his current ACL once resided, O’Bannon has worked hard for five years to restore his game.

Harrick has monitored the Ed O’Bannon metamorphosis from pathetic freshman with no balance or timing to the smooth athlete he is today. Recruiters nationwide know the full implications of Harrick’s statement that O’Bannon is once again as good as he was in high school.

Right through the championship game, O’Bannon enjoyed one of those seasons that gives rise to cliches. O’Bannon, for example, really was on a mission. He was going to make sure that his senior year would be his own reward for everything he’s gone through. He appointed himself team spokesman. He prodded the veterans and lifted the freshmen. In the championship game, he hit a 3 to start the game; came from the weak side early to not just block, but smash away a Corliss Williamson shot (talk about sending a message); filled lanes on the break; played maniacal defense; and controlled the glass, skinny body or no skinny body.

The other UCLA players looked to him for guidance in every situation, and he never let them down. It was one of the handful of legitimately great individual performances in NCAA championship game history.

And when it was over, he spoke only of team, not of personal satisfaction.

“Everybody sucked it up and we went out and whupped ‘em,” he said. “It was as simple as that.”

Sure. It’s always simple when your best player is listed as a synonym for “winner” in the basketball thesaurus.