Ira Winderman of the Sun-Sentinel:
Pat Riley was seated in the first row of the balcony Friday at the Milk House at Disney's Wide World of Sports, so it was difficult to get close enough to hear if that grinding sound was the Heat president gnashing his teeth. Below, Michael Beasley was having fun, kidding around on a side court with a few wild shots while other draft prospects were fighting for their pro lives. As a few top prospects joined the workout, Beasley remained alone. The former Kansas State power forward said he took the wrong bus over, was waiting for his assigned group. All the while, he joked with players, smiled, carried himself as without a care in the world. Considering he is viewed as either the most-talented player in this draft or one of them, why shouldn't the kid be having fun? It is, after all, a game. Yet high above, there sat Riley. And while Riley hates nothing more than people trying to read his emotions, it is difficult not to get this read: Michael Beasley is not Pat Riley's type of player. We're not talking skills here, just personality.
That's the thing with Beasley. He's certainly some kind of goofball. A harmless nut? Perhaps.
But nutty, for sure.
And in a world where a fair percentage of players don't make it for some reason or another, goofiness could count, I would think, as a red flag. I am not sure Michael Beasley has "embraced the challenge."
Eli Saslow of the Washington Post wrote a big article about then high-schooler Michael Beasley. A year later, I still remember this part:
"Me and Tywon Lawson had a competition at the beginning of the school year about who could sign their autograph the most around the school," Beasley said, referring to a teammate who now stars at North Carolina. "And I don't lose at anything, man, so I walked around with one of those Sharpies and signed graffiti everywhere. Every day, they were cleaning my name off water fountains, ceilings, desks, offices -- whatever. I just thought it was funny."
Oak Hill Coach Steve Smith blamed Beasley's poor behavior on simple immaturity. "He's really a good-hearted kid," Smith said. So, with two weeks left in the school year, Smith offered his star player one final chance: He told Beasley that, to be invited back to Oak Hill, he needed to impress administrators with flawless end-of-year behavior.
Two days later, Beasley signed his name in black ink on the principal's truck, Smith said.
"He'll definitely try your patience," Smith said. "You look at him physically and he's a full-grown man, and you think he's going to make good decisions all the time. But a lot of times, he just didn't."
At a practice here in Fitchburg last month, Barton gathered his players to give them a scouting report on an upcoming opponent. In less than 24 hours, the team played one of its most important games of the season. Barton stood still, with a basketball under his right arm, and talked quietly. "Pay attention, 'cause this is important," Barton said. His players leaned in to listen. Then Beasley started shouting.
"Hey coach, pass the ball!" Beasley yelled. "Come on, coach. You're being a ball hog, yo. Pass it. I'm open."
Teammates laughed, and Barton shook his head.
You read that, and you think: What a nut!
Especially if you have already read coach Dan Barto's account of the time when he lived with Beasley for Beasley's freshman year of high school. One tidbit:
There were many nights were I would come back from work and he would be doing his homework just five feet from the television with and empty container of 30 wings. The best part was the he sometimes would be wearing 3-d sunglasses watching Sponge Bob Square Pants.
But in the end, Saslow (watch Saslow talking about Beasley) and Barto agree that there is a serious aspect to Beasley, and he, on some level, wants to figure this out and maximize his potential.
Here's to hoping he can figure that out in the glare of the NBA's bright lights.
