Morris Almond stepped out of the Utah Jazz locker room, nodded to the security guard and walked briskly down the hallways underneath the $50 seats lining the EnergySolutions Arena’s lower bowl.
Remaining cool and collected, Almond was running late to meet his parents outside the stadium, but the Jazz’s latest rookie graciously spared a few minutes of conversation. Looking for a place to sit, he peered inside an unauthorized room under construction.
“Can I come in?” he asked a small group of maintenance workers.
Several of the men laughed out loud.
“Morris, you can go anywhere you want,” one of them replied.
At the age of 22, Almond has already been to places and accomplished feats of which others only dream.
What’s more amazing is how the 25th pick of 2007’s NBA Draft got to where he is.
The majority of today’s NBA is made up of young men who picked up the hard knocks of life on the streets in urban America. While the idea of an underprivileged teen breaking free from the ghetto’s iron grip for a lifetime of comfort that the NBA promises is an appealing story, it’s become cliché.
Willie Almond, an officer in the U.S. Army and Morris’ father, instilled the values that can keep a young rookie earning millions grounded enough to remember what it took to get there and proud enough to remember where he came from.
“It was definitely disciplined,” Almond said of his childhood as an Army brat. “I got good grades, stayed out of trouble…It was well worth it.”
The articulate, clean-cut Rice graduate received his bachelor of arts degree in kinesiology in May, just weeks before the Jazz drafted him. Morris has his father to thank for a smoother transition into the real world — or as real as it gets in an NBA that’s increasingly more ludicrous than lucrative.
“(Growing up in the military) kinda gives you structure and a good foundation to grow up and become a mature adult,” Almond said.
These lessons taught Almond that the business of the NBA isn’t always what it seems.
“There’s definitely a lot of temptations, and we’re meeting a lot of new people,” Almond said. “You don’t know if they’re just trying to meet you or hang out with you, or they ask you to do things, and you don’t know what they’re into.”
“There’s some pitfalls and a lot of distractions, but as long as you stay grounded and do what you know is right, everything should work out,” the Jazz rookie said.
For Almond, basketball is one of the few constants in his life — an outlet that the Dalton, Ga., native can escape to, where he doesn’t have to worry about real intentions. Just a ball, a hoop and himself.
“It was naturally picked up. Ever since I could remember, I’ve been playing ball year-round,” said Almond, whose father and brother, Josh, also played college ball. “I always played for school — AAU ball, summer leagues — so there was always tournaments, games, practices year-round. I’ve been playing since I could walk.”
Whether the 6-foot-6 guard was living in Colorado, Ohio, Kansas, Kentucky or Germany, Almond always had basketball. Almond also learned to appreciate the different cultures and said that has helped him to quickly adjust to the unique environment of Salt Lake City.
“It wasn’t really a culture shock,” he said of moving into his apartment near Temple Square. “I’m used to moving around and getting used to different people and all that. Salt Lake is a nice place. It’s quiet, clean and lets you stay focused on basketball.”
Another group of people he had to get used to is his new teammates. Being a rookie in the NBA isn’t far off from boot camp. First-year players will likely be humiliated, yelled at and ordered to perform degrading tasks for the veterans.
“D-Will tells me to get him lotion and soap while he’s in the locker room,” Almond laughed. “You gotta get donuts, too, but that’s typical.”
A more unusual prank occurred when Almond and his teammates were lined up inside one of the arena’s tunnels during a home preseason game.
“(The veterans) said, ‘Rookies, y’all lead us out!’ and we weren’t gonna say ‘No.’ So me and Fes (Kyrylo Fesenko) ran out, thinking everyone was gonna follow us,” Almond said. “We got to the middle of the court and realized me and Fes were the only ones out there. We just stood there for like 10 seconds until the rest came out. They got us on that one.”
When Almond steps on the court while the clock is running, however, the fun and games end. It becomes Jazz coach Jerry Sloan’s world and Almond, who admits he was a little nervous meeting the notoriously demanding coach for the first time, knows it.
“Maybe (Sloan is intimidating) at first, but he’s a good guy,” Almond said. “He knows what he’s talking about, and you try to soak it all in when you get out there.”
Almond doesn’t question that his military upbringing gives him an advantage in dealing with the rigors and mandates of Sloan’s coaching style.
“No doubt, you gotta have discipline to play in this system. It’s structured, and you gotta do things the right way here,” Almond said. “You can’t be buck wild, trying to do your own thing here, you know? You gotta know how to fall in line.”
Almond said he is comfortable with that, despite starting the season on Utah’s inactive list for the first four games. After all, the shooting guard rarely got off the bench his first two years at Rice An ordeal Almond said that was the lowest point of his basketball career.
During the summer between his sophomore and junior year at Rice, Almond returned to his stomping grounds in Atlanta where he played with former high school teammate Josh Smith, now a star on the NBA’s Atlanta Hawks. The next two years, Almond averaged 22 and 26 points per game and became the nation’s third-leading scorer.
“That’s when (the NBA dream) became real,” said Almond, who still keeps in touch with Smith. “I’d always been just a fan, but then I started playing with pros in the summer, and it became real.”
Almond said it’s a matter of time until he’ll get to test his sweet shooting stroke during crunch time.
“The whole (NBA) process reminds me of college all over again, except it’s a bigger stage,” he said. “You gotta start at the bottom.”
Lennie Mahler