In this article:
Growing up with mixed input
On to Memphis
NBA names: Bullets or Wizards. Where's the LA lakes?

Shane has entered the building
Battier, college ball's player of the year, takes on the NBA.

by Mike Rubin

The lobby of Memphis' Peabody Hotel is crawling with Elvis impersonators, but no one notices. After all, mid-August in the King's adopted hometown means Elvis Week. No, what's turning heads isn't the portly folks with sideburns as thick as highway median strips but rather the towering presence of Shane Battier, 6-foot-8 rookie forward of the Memphis Grizzlies. An actual NBA player - now that's something you don't see here every day, or at least you didn't before the league's Vancouver franchise moved to town last summer. Not that Battier wouldn't stand out in a crowd, even amid fellow athletes. After a sensational career at Duke, which culminated in the Blue Devils winning the national championship last April, he has established himself not only as a rising NBA star but also as a well-rounded scholar-athlete.

Off the court, last season's consensus player of the year was an academic All-American, a religion major who carried an A-minus average. "I want to show people that you don't have to just do one thing," Battier says between bites of a sandwich at the hotel cafe. "If someone on the street asked me, 'Are you a basketball player?' I'd say, 'Among many things.' There's nothing wrong with being a ballplayer, but there's so much more to life." Battier, 23, displays such quality of character that many observers already are conjecturing about what he might do when he retires. He's even frequently compared to New York Knick-turned-senator Bill Bradley. "I think Shane will end up doing something helping people," says Mike Dunleavy, Battier's roommate last season. "Maybe he'll get into politics or teach. I could see him starting a YMCA down in a bad neighborhood, helping kids out. That's what he's about."

GROWING UP: A MIXED INPUT
Battier grew up outside of Detroit in affluent Birmingham, Mich., the child of an interracial couple. His father owns a small trucking company; his mother is a corporate secretary. As a kid, Battier received more than his share of teasing and insensitive comments. "I had it on both sides," he recalls. "Every Saturday, I had people look at me like ÔWho's the white kid from the suburbs?' if my mom took me to practice in Detroit. And then, when I went to the mall out in the suburbs with my dad, it was 'Who's the black guy?' It gave me more moxie. Instead of hiding from it, as I once did, I said, 'Well, yeah, so what?' and I gained strength from being different." Looking for a fresh start in Memphis, the Grizzlies, one of the NBA's most hapless franchises, are more than eager to build their team identity around Battier, a charismatic guy who's articulate and charming, with a smile as bright as TV studio lights.

THE MEMPHIS BLUES
Since his arrival in town, he's been going out alone to jazz clubs on Beale Street, where strangers hand him business cards or napkins with personal notes. "I'll meet someone and they'll give me their number and say, 'Hey, if you ever need something to do, call me and we'll hang out.' I don't think that would happen in New York or Chicago or L.A." Battier rented a hip bachelor pad in a converted warehouse, a far cry from the ostentatious spreads most sports millionaires purchase with their signing bonus. "It's probably the only time in my life I'll have a chance to do this," Battier says, "to live in a cool loft and kind of be a bohemian, so I took a shot at it."

Whatever Battier aims at, he usually succeeds. He's one of the top five winningest players in college hoops history, competing in 131 victories (and just 15 defeats). When he arrived at Duke, he excelled at defense; his trademark play was standing his ground and drawing an offensive foul. It wasn't until his junior year that he emerged as an offensive threat and developed a deadly three-point shot. The consummate team player, Battier's squeaky-clean selflessness and tireless hustle seem at odds with the showboating, shoe-endorsement-seeking circus of today's NBA. "Shane is a no-maintenance guy," says Duke coach Mike Krzyzewski.

"He makes everything he's a part of better, whether it be a training meal, a tape session, a practice, a game, a bus ride. He's an amazing leader and the best overall package I've had a chance to coach." Yet, despite his outstanding collegiate career, the first five teams in June's NBA draft decided to go with potential over proven results. The No. 1 pick overall was a 19-year-old high school star; Battier was viewed as "too old" by some scouts. "I don't regret my decision," he says of remaining at Duke to get his degree. "I did what was best for me, and that was to graduate and enjoy my time and not try to grow up too fast. I wouldn't trade my experience for anything."

Not even his own sneaker.

By "Spin" senior writer Mike Rubin who grew up just a few miles from Battier but has none of his game.



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NEVER JUDGE AN NBA TEAM BY ITS NAME

Memphis Grizzlies: Have no plans for renaming the team since their move from British Columbia, where grizzly bears are an indigenous species. Should be called: Memphis Kings. Give it up, Sacramento. Memphis is home to Graceland and the National Civil Rights Museum (formerly the Lorraine Motel, where Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in 1968).

  Los Angeles Lakers: Kept their name after moving in 1960 from Minnesota ("the land of 10,000 lakes"). Should be called: L.A. Moguls. The real ballers in this town flex the kind of muscle that can produce coast-to-coast blockbuster-style "showtime."

Washington Wizards: Originally the Baltimore Bullets, named after a foundry that produced World War II ammunition. The franchise moved to D.C. in the '70s and adopted "Wizards" in '97 in an attempt to shake the city's reputation as the murder capital. Should be called: Washington Heirs. Hey, these are Michael Jordan's boys.
-- by Craigh Barboza