When three tall black men move into a rich, white Southern neighborhood, it's not a sitcom -- it's "Down Low," ESPN's minor-league basketball reality show.
Apr 17, 2002 | I live on Tradd Street in Charleston, S.C. -- perhaps the whitest, richest, most genteel stretch of pavement in all the South. So imagine the stir that might occur if three swashbuckling and terrifically tall black guys took up residence with a hulking Mexican fellow down the block. Suddenly, the Wentworths and the Ansons have plenty to chat about at cocktail hour.
Turns out it's just the National Basketball Association's experiment in the world of reality TV. You see, these young guns are all players on the North Charleston Lowgators of the National Basketball Development League, a fledgling minor league for borderline pro players. They're also stars of a new show on ESPN called "Down Low: Life in the D-League." It's "Survivor" with a full-court press.
There's no need for lame immunity challenges on this show; every day is a real-world fight to stay on the island. In one recent episode, the team faces its first roster change. Alone in spartan hotel rooms, benchwarmers express their anxieties about being cut. And when game time arrives, these players fret that they're throwing away their job security with every errant pass. Later, the camera is in the meeting room when the coaches finally release Chris Robinson, a starter with NBA experience and a bad attitude. Someone makes airline arrangements on a cellphone and he's gone.
In other installments, the Lowgators try to polish their game in front of NBA scouts, survive a low-budget road trip from hell and struggle with government bureaucracy to get Mexican center Victor Avila the correct working papers. And all the while they're playing ball day after day, trying to win games, stay healthy and get the hell out of the NBDL.
But does the show really capture the realities of the D-League? To satisfy my curiosity, I spent a few days trailing my new neighbors and the ever-present ESPN crew. I cruised the sidelines at two games, yawned my way through two morning practices and lurked at the edges of a few charged locker room speeches as the playoff-bound team limped through some late-season doldrums. All this to see what the life of minor-league ballplayers -- and the challenge of filming it -- is all about.
The Lowgators are a motley bunch of unrealized potential. There's Fred House, a vaguely goofy rookie straight out of college whose explosive game might be ready for the NBA if he could add more control to his arsenal. There's Galen Young, a multitalented forward who's still working to fulfill the prophecies of NBA success. There's B.J. McKie, an aggressive point guard with wisdom and poise beyond his 24 years. And there's Terry Dehere, the team's lone vet, trying to shoot his way back into the big time.
None of these 11 characters appears headed for marquee NBA stardom. None is a dominating big man or a dazzling scorer who will transform the game. They're here in the D-League because they've got an incomplete game right now. Most of them have the physical gifts and raw skills to take it to the next level -- a role-playing position with an NBA franchise. But they're not there today. And frankly, many of them may never make it. As good as they are, their lives are still up in the air.
Shaping this raw talent is the job of Alex English, a Hall of Fame scoring wizard and native South Carolinian taking his first stab at professional coaching. In his 15-year pro career, mostly with the Denver Nuggets, English made eight All-Star teams and posted 25,613 points -- which may well be more than the entire Lowgators roster will amass in the NBA combined. Yet despite his impressive playing résumé, English is well aware that he has a tough road ahead of him. "My goal is to be an NBA coach and I still have a lot to learn," says English. "I guess I'm in the same boat as the players."
It's not an easy job. In one episode, English walks down the aisle of the bus and hands his players copies of a book by legendary coach Phil Jackson. The book, he tells them, is all about building teamwork. A few players dive in, but many others turn to the camera and admit with a grin that they won't crack the spine. You get the feeling that some players have a far greater hunger to find wisdom, to win and to move on than others.