Remembering Ryan

Tonight marks the debut of several highly heralded NBA rookies, including the enigmatic OJ Mayo of the Memphis Grizzlies.  Mayo, who left USC under controversial circumstances after one year, has been in the national spotlight since before he even played a minute of high school ball.

Meanwhile, back at USC, 6-5 swingman and walking (flying) highlight reel DeMar DeRozan, another highly touted recruit, seems poised to fill Mayo’s shoes.  He is a big reason USC has been picked to return to the NCAA tournament despite the loss of Mayo and starting forward Davon Jefferson.  Like Mayo, he will almost certainly be a lottery pick after just one year in college.

Most college and high school hoops fans know plenty about these two players.  It’s the five star nationally ranked recruits like Mayo and Derozean that fans cheer (or, sometimes, love to hate.)  It’s the guys who fly under the radar, though, guys who don’t get the ink and the media love, who sometimes make all the difference.

Take Ryan Francis, for example.  “Who’s that?” you might ask.   Ryan Francis was another one year guard for USC.  Like Mayo, Francis was a relentless defender and team leader. Unlike Mayo, the diminutive Francis was not highly recruited when he came out of Glen Oaks High School in Baton Rouge, LA. 

Despite leading his team to a state championship in 2005, his size (he was certainly much shorter than his listed height of 5-11) and high school competition scared many coaches away.

You might wonder why the undersized Francis, who started every game and averaged 7.1 points during his freshman campaign, did not return for his sophomore season.   On May 14, 2006, exactly one month after receiving a team award for always giving 110% effort, Francis was gunned down in a senseless act of random violence.

Had Francis possibly placed himself in a position, through poor choices or shady affiliations, that might have placed himself in harm’s way?  Was he yet another star athlete who had become the victim of his own excesses? 

It turns out Francis’ crime was to visit his mother, Paulette, for Mother’s Day, then hang out with some high school buddies.  A complete stranger, having felt slighted at a party by the driver of the vehicle in which Francis was a passenger, decided to open fire on the vehicle.  Ryan Francis, nineteen years old, was dead.

As we witness the unfolding of another NBA season, is there a lesson we can learn from this tragedy?  I don’t know if anything good can come out of the murder of such an outstanding young man, taken from us before he even had a chance to play more college basketball, to pursue his dreams of coaching, to get married, to do all the things his former teammates will get to do.   What’s the meaning of all this?

I don’t have answers.  All I know is that Ryan’s gone.  And I, like anyone else who ever met him, still miss him.  His soft–spoken “Yes, Sir” demeanor belied his tenacious defense.  When I watch the high priced NBA stars like Mayo strut their stuff tonight, I’ll be thinking of humble, hard–working Ryan. 

RIP Ryan Francis.