“I had to put my hands on [the drug dealer] a little and tell him, ‘That’s my family you’re messing with. That’s my blood. And that’s not for Bootsy.'” JOSEPH “POOCH” WARD, Bootsy Thornton’s uncle
BOOTSY Thornton was a seventh grader the first time a Baltimore drug dealer made him what sounded like a can’t-miss offer: Hand out a couple of small envelopes of product for cash and all the good things in life would be yours – nice clothes, extra money in his pocket, one day a car.
Bootsy never heard back from the dealer.
His older brother Travis, a street-wise and savvy basketball player – everything young Bootsy admired – had heard about the offer. So had Bootsy’s uncle, Joseph “Pooch” Ward.
“We went looking for this guy and when we found him, we had a couple of words for him,” said Ward. “At first he didn’t want to hear it. Now I’m 6-3, over 250, 260 pounds. So I had to put my hands on him a little and tell him, ‘That’s my family you’re messing with. That’s my blood. And that’s not for Bootsy.'”
It shouldn’t have been for Travis Thornton either. But he didn’t have the advantage of an older brother or uncle – guardian angels, if you will. There was no one to prevent Travis from running with the wrong crowd, a crowd where dealing drugs and sharp clothes could get you a cool reputation if it didn’t get you killed.
Travis is alive, but he’s not chillin’ these days. He’s doing three years on assault and weapons charges stemming from a drug incident at the Maryland House of Corrections in Jessup, Md.
That’s where Travis gets to watch Bootsy on television. The picture sometimes isn’t clear enough for Travis to see his name written on Bootsy’s sneakers, but it’s there – every game.
If Travis’ parole comes through in May, Bootsy hopes his brother will get to see him play in person next year. More important, Bootsy doesn’t want to ever have to visit Travis in Jessup again.
“That last look as you’re leaving, when you look back, he’s not walking behind you,” a somber Bootsy said as he reflected back on the first time he visited Travis. “He’s walking another way, behind the bars, in handcuffs.”
Bootsy Thornton, 21, has emerged as one of premier scoring guards in the Big East, averaging 16 points and hitting 42.6 percent on 3s since transferring to St. John’s from Tallahassee Community College. Thornton arrived at Tallahassee as a slasher, departed as the school’s all-time leading scorer (1,291 points in two seasons) and in the process began developing into a legitimate shooting guard.
“When he first came here, he had no jump shot,” said Tallahassee coach Mike Gillespie. “He was no more a two guard than the man in the moon. But he had this demeanor that he wanted to be the best player on the court. And two years ago he was a runner-up for JUCO Player of the Year because he worked his rear end off.”
Thornton waited in the agony of obscurity last year. He sank 17 straight 3-pointers in shooting practice prior to the Louisville game at Freedom Hall but none of those shots counted. He never felt like he was truly part of the team until after the Red Storm had its season ended with a 66-64 loss to the University of Detroit in the first round of the NCAA Tournament.
“Ron [Artest] came up to me in the locker room and said, ‘You’re on the team now,'” recalled Thornton. “He said, ‘We’re going to try to make it back here next year and we’re going to need you.”
Bootsy has had experience at being the odd man out. He’d follow Travis and Pooch to the schoolyards in West Baltimore, even though they are seven years his senior.
Bootsy was four, an awkward lefty, who couldn’t dribble. There’s no sympathy in the schoolyards and Bootsy was always getting called for traveling. But he kept playing and it started to pay dividends.
“When he was eight years old, he told me he was better than Magic, better than Jordan,” said his mother, Darlene Grimes. “I said to him, ‘Are you sure? Are you willing to work at it?'”
Thornton, the third leading offensive rebounder (56) on the Red Storm although he’s just 6-foot-4, always has had a sense of timing. Grimes was going to name him Teon Terrell Thornton. But in the last days before delivering, Bootsy’s father, Marvis Thornton, Sr., decided their son should be named Marvis Jr.
Darlene acquiesced but she couldn’t bring herself to call her baby Marvis. She began thinking of nicknames. Bumpy came to mind, but Marvis Sr. saved his son from that rocky moniker.
Then the darndest thing happened. Darlene was playing a record by one of her favorite artists, Bootsy “Rubberband Man” Collins, who wore oversized sunglasses in the shape of stars. Marvis, three months old at the time, started bouncing in his crib.
Darlene never again called her son Marvis. No one did, until he got to Tallahassee where Gillespie discovered the way to get Marvis “Bootsy” Thornton to play his best was to get him mad.
“His middle name is Linwood,” said Gillespie. “He hates it. Tell everyone in New York to call him Linwood and he’ll really play.”
St. John’s coach Mike Jarvis has been trying get Thornton to really play defense. Jarvis recently graded Thornton as a “C” defensive player, but he accurately predicted Thornton would try to appeal the grade.
“A ‘C’, that’s tough,” said Thornton. “I think like a ‘B,’ yeah, maybe a ‘B.’ Cause Coach killed me a little bit on the defense early in the year. I looked at the tapes, my D wasn’t that bad.”
No it wasn’t. But the men in Bootsy’s life have always been prodding and protecting him. “He wants to be coached,” said Jarvis. “He wants to improve. He wants to get better. Everybody needs a coach.”
And some of us need a few guardian angels.
