An Assist : Help Once Came From Granddad, but Now He Looks for College Aid

The reason why I, Joe Covarrubias Jr., am the basketball player that I am is because of Javier Covarrubias.

This free throw is for you, Grandfather. Every free throw is for you.

I remember everything you used to tell me about shooting a free throw: Take a deep breath. Bend the knees. Follow through. Snap the wrist. That’s why I point to the ceiling every time I make one, because I know you are up there watching me.

You used to call me “Big-One” when I was just 6. I never understood why. It was as if you knew something I didn’t.

I wonder if you knew that this year I would make the City Section 4-A Division first team and the City Times’ first team as Huntington Park’s starting point guard.

You had to know, because before you died, on Dec. 4, 1992, you told me that I would be recognized for my talents one day.

That’s why when I went to Gage Junior High School, I would get up at 5:30 every morning to go outside to practice dribbling. Sometimes Mom wouldn’t let me go out, so I would dribble around the house.

At the first hint of daylight, I would run down to the park and play basketball all day. People would play and leave. Many of my friends were out at parties. But I stayed, practicing and dreaming.

All I’ve ever wanted was to lead my team to a City championship. I was never able to accomplish that in my four years at Huntington Park but I did mature as a player and as a person.

I used to think scoring was the most important aspect of the game. My junior year, I averaged 25 points and six assists--second in the area--but we lost a lot of games. Twelve out of 19, in fact.

That summer, I watched Jason Kidd, who played point guard for Cal at the time, in a college basketball game. I noticed the way he handled the ball when closely guarded by a defender as opposed to dribbling in the open court. I studied the way he drew defenders toward him and then passed to an open man for an easy shot. I started taping the games he played in and then tried to emulate what I’d seen him do.

I realized that being the point guard on a basketball team is not that much different from being the quarterback on a football team.

So last season, I tried to get my teammates more involved offensively.

I averaged fewer points--20--and more assists--seven.

Although our record improved very little, 9-13, we did play every game tough.

I could feel that I was getting better as a player, but I feared it might not be good enough.

It seems that Latino basketball players in our area do not receive the same respect and recognition from Division I college recruiters as non-Latino players.

In 1992-93, 6-6 center Alex Gomez of Garfield High was named to the City Times’ first team, averaging 26 points and 13 rebounds.

But he didn’t receive one scholarship offer from a Division I program.

This year, not one player from Roosevelt, the City 3-A runner-up to Banning, has signed to play at a major university.

I wasn’t heavily recruited this year either.

It looks as if I will attend Los Angeles Community College in the fall, although I would really love to play at Berkeley.

The Cal assistant coach, Curtis Townsend, phoned me to say that LACC Coach Mike Miller had spoken highly of my basketball abilities.

Coach Miller said I have “Big-Time” vision on the court as well as a great sense of the game.

My high school coach, Joe Reed, taught me that anything can happen if you believe. Coach Reed made me believe in myself, just like you did.

In the ninth grade, he told me hard work on the court pays off, just like at a job when a worker gets paid at the end of the week.

Because of Coach Reed, I wanted to be one of the best players in the City. And this year, it came true.

But not too many other things have changed.

I work with Dad from 4 to 7 p.m. Wednesday through Friday and 10 to 6 p.m. on weekends at Dearden’s Furniture store in Bell.

Uncle Frank, Frank Covarrubias, and my girlfriend, Nancy Vitela, an 18-year-old East L.A. College student, went to most of my games.

Mom, Martha Guerrero, always encouraged me to choose my basketball family over gang life.

I haven’t changed much either.

I go outside around 10 at night and dribble around the block.

Sometimes the neighbors turn on their lights and the dogs bark, but most of them know it’s me. Don’t worry, if the barking gets louder, I dribble faster.

I’ll bet you know where I will be next year.

You always had all the answers.

I’ll tell you something I know:

Wherever I play, I plan on doing a lot of pointing.