Check the kid from East Saint, the one his friends call Little KG. He's 6'9", 215 pounds, with a 7'3" wingspan and a size-18 shoe. His body is so skinny that when he's crossing you over his arachnid limbs seem to multiply, kicking out in every direction. A few years back, you might have found him flying to the hole on roller skates, shooting the rock on the run. The hole was a rustic brown, attached to a white backboard and held aloft by three pieces of wood nailed to a utility pole. Next year the holes will all be bright orange, the backboards all glass. Many defenders will have 50 pounds on Little KG. But right now, this sleepy-eyed 18-year-old thinks he can step on any NBA court and average a cool 10 to 15. Add to that a few blocks and steals. And you know what? He might be right.
In the ever-evolving world of pro basketball, Darius Miles is the future. Or rather, the future of the future. The future arrived in 1995 with the selection of Kevin Garnett in the NBA draft. Since then, at least one high school player has been chosen in the first round each year. And only two of the nine preps chosen are no longer in the league. The success rate of the teen-to-dream crew has transformed the draft. Finding it increasingly difficult to locate impact personnel among the college ranks, teams now consider drafting prospects instead of players. All of which makes Miles the most intriguing pick in 2000. The small forward has drawn comparisons to everyone from the real KG to Magic. He is a certain lottery pick. But just how good is he? That's a question several scouts and GMs had better answer before June 28.
At the corner of 32nd and Douglas stands a white backboard with a shallow net. Miles' neighbor Tracy Foree put it up and Darius tore it down-about eight times. This is where Miles spent his days as a basketball Evel Knievel, dribbling on skates and jumping his bike off a homemade ramp. Here, in the shadow of East St. Louis, Ill., a city that produced Bryan Cox and Jackie Joyner-Kersee despite one of the nation's highest crime rates, is where Miles developed his game. By ninth grade, that game had won a spot on Larry Butler's Illinois Warriors, a Nike-sponsored AAU team which included fellow draft declaree Quentin Richardson. As a 6'7", defense-minded forward in glasses, Miles was more daredevil than demon. New York City point guard Omar Cook, now a close friend, remembers meeting Miles at a tournament in Connecticut. "All he did was block shots and rebound," he says. "He didn't dribble, shoot, score. Nothing like that."
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