The Messiah and the mediocrity

MEDFORD, N.J. -- I'm far away from the Ivy League in so many respects. It's 10:30 on Saturday morning outside the gym at Lenape, a relatively-large high school in a sleepy New Jersey suburb. It's early, it's cold and big, puffy snowflakes are dancing lazily in the just-more-than-a-whisper wind. But except for the weather, there's nothing lazy or quiet at the bustling Lenape schoolgrounds. More than 500 people are waiting in line to buy a ticket to the varsity boys' basketball game -- a game that won't start for two-and-a-half hours. That's right. Two-and-a-half hours. It's some sort of insanity here at Lenape, and I'm part of it. Because the gym holds just 1,500, each person can only buy two tickets. The supply is low, and the demand is frighteningly high. A 30-ish man who needs three tickets offers me $10 to buy an extra ducat for him. Ten bucks for a $3 ticket. A 300-plus percent markup. What? Isn't this just high school basketball? Well, no. Lenape isn't playing just any team today. The Indians are playing Camden. Camden is the top team in the state, the third-best team in the country. But more importantly, Camden is the team of Dajuan Wagner. Dajuan Wagner. To hear people in line talk about the man with "The Messiah" tattooed on his arm and the NBA logo on his socks, he must be the second coming of Michael. He's averaged 48 points per game this season. He scored 100 in a game last month. And he's an urban legend. "He's better than Kobe was in high school." "I haven't seen him before, but I hear he can fly." "Man, I've seen him five times. He's superhuman." "I saw him hit his head on the rim once. And he's only six-three." Lenape Athletic Director Mike Bauer didn't double security for the game because this was the Indians' last home game of the season. Bauer didn't start selling varsity tickets before the freshman game had finished because Lenape has qualified for the playoffs for the first time in three years. No, Bauer did all this because of Wagner. "A lot of people are coming to the game just to see him," Bauer says matter-of-factly. People coming to a basketball game just to see one player? Just to see some greatness? When's the last time that's happened at the Palestra? No one comes to see Brown's Earl Hunt. Or Yale's Chris Yanke. Or Columbia's Craig Austin. No one comes to see what used to be a slow-but-magical Princeton offense. Not any more. There's no magic. There's no greatness. Not since the Ivy League has fallen to (and now maybe below) mediocrity. Not since the Ivy League has become a motley of smart-but-mediocre players and teams lacking any sort of cohesion. And that's a shame. Say what you want about the Ivy League finally being competitive now that Penn and Princeton are, well, just not very good. Say what you will about parity and how great it is that the Ancient Eight is no longer run by the P&P; company. But I'd rather have greatness. I'd rather have a 14-0 Jordan-and-Langel Penn team. I'd rather have a 27-2 Princeton team ranked in the top 10. I'd rather have Dajuan Wagner. Wagner may be a ball-hog; he scored his 41 points Saturday on 38 shots. Wagner may be a little lazy; in games like Saturday's 20-point blowout, he stands around a lot on offense and defense. But Wagner is exciting. Oh boy, is he exciting. He takes 25- and 30-foot three-pointers. Because he can make them. He can penetrate on anyone. And I mean anyone. He can hang up in the air, triple-clutch and drain a 10-footer. He can finish a one-handed alley-oop. And, man, I think he really can fly. The Memphis-bound senior has the stuff of greatness, the stuff of excitement. I wouldn't be first to say it, but he's got shades of Allen Iverson in him. He sports cornrows like Iverson. And he shares Iverson's propensity to play to the crowd. Wagner misses a reverse lay-up in the third quarter on Saturday and, like they had been all day, the Lenape fans heckle Wagner ("Kobe woulda had that," "Can't do that in the NBA"). But on the very next possession, Wagner spins, hits a you-have-to-see-it-to-believe-it one-hander from eight feet out, and puts a finger to his lips to shush the crowd. "I don't worry about that," the soft-spoken Wagner said of the fan interaction. "I just play my game." Well, maybe Wagner does worry about it a little. But he still plays 'his game.' And what a game it is. During the course of a game at the Palestra, maybe I'll see one "wow" play. Maybe one athletic Ugonna Onyekwe dunk or something like that. Maybe. In Saturday's game, I saw Wagner soar way above the other nine players to grab a first-quarter rebound (what's his vertical? four feet?). I saw him come out of absolutely nowhere to swat a Lenape shot way into the stands. There's a reason when people asked, "How many does he have?" on Saturday, there was no need to specify who "he" was. There's a reason why no one left until Wagner exited the court for good with 1:29 to go. There's a reason why dozens of people who stayed until the end waited around (unsuccessfully) to get autographs from and pictures with Wagner. There's also a reason a large percentage of Penn students come late to the Palestra for non-Princeton games, if they come at all. Wagner is exciting. Wagner has that greatness. Wagner makes people care. And Ivy League basketball right now, with its parity, it's averageness, well, it doesn't. I don't care if Penn isn't the great team. I don't care if the great player isn't wearing red and blue. I just want the greatness. I want the excitement of Wagner. I want the hope that maybe something incredible will happen. But I don't think I'll get that at the Palestra this season. Or any time in the near future. The greatness is gone, replaced by a dull, drab, sickeningly-bland mediocrity. There's no Dajuan Wagner in the Ivies. There won't be any Dajuan Wagner in the Ivies. I'm back at Penn now, back in the Ivy League. And although Camden High School and Wagner are only just over the Delaware, they feel so far away. In so many respects.

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