Eric Gordon

In the back seat of a Ford Explorer, Eric Gordon and his 9-year-old brother Aaron sip Baja Blast Moutain Dew and snicker at a DVD that’s blasting rap music. It’s Sunday, and for the Gordon family that means basketball. Then again, for the Gordons, just about every day means basketball.

The destination today is Municipal Gardens on the north side of Indianapolis – the site of Aaron’s park league championship game. When they get there, the regular family files out of their regular SUV and embarks on a regular Sunday afternoon.
But what’s extraordinary about this ordinary scene is the 6-foot-4, 18-year-old with a man’s body and a boy’s face. It’s the great Eric Gordon – the one they call “E.J..” He’s the No. 2-rated high school basketball player in the nation, and the leading candidate for Indiana’s Mr. Basketball. Just a few weeks ago he dropped 43 points on Michael Jordan’s kids during a nationally televised game.

You wouldn’t think any of this, though, watching an oversized high schooler slap hands with family friends then take a seat along the sidelines. As Eric Gordon Jr. leans over to hug his aunt and grandma, you have to remind yourself: This might be the man who restores the glory to IU basketball.

Just like his father before him, and just like his little brother these days, E.J.’s basketball career started in the historic gym at Municipal Gardens. As a 5-year-old, he played in the 7-8 year-old division. At 8, he jumped up to the 11-12 year-old bracket, and by fifth grade he was already playing in national tournaments through the Amateur Athletic Union (AAU).

None of this surprised Eric Sr. too much. E.J. began showing signs of his gifts almost immediately after his birth on Christmas Day, 1988. He took his first steps at six months and was walking on his own three months before his first birthday.
“We always knew he was coordinated,” Eric Sr. says, “We just never knew how coordinated he would turn out to be.”

It was around fifth grade when the Gordons finally found out. The family was in Dallas, Texas for a national tournament, and E.J.’s squad had a game against another AAU team from Arizona. E.J. had never been much of a scorer, but rather a true point guard. But on this day he went off for 43 points, his team won the game, and they eventually finished second overall.

“That was probably the highest scoring game I ever had as a kid,” E.J. says. “And that was at a national event.”

Just two years later, as a seventh grader, E.J. got a letter from Wabash College asking him to consider playing basketball for their school. It was an exciting moment – getting recruited before being a teenager – but there were would be many, many, many more letters to come.

Watching Aaron play supports the existence of a basketball gene. The youngest Gordon pulls down boards and sinks mid-range jumpers, inspiring E.J. to admit that his little brother is actually a better shooter and rebounder than he was at the same age. It’s hard to think of E.J. ever having struggled with his shot, as just two nights before he drained threes from four feet beyond the arc like a sniper shooting at tin cans.

With Aaron’s team losing in the final quarter, the youngest Gordon sneaks a glance at his older brother, and E.J. gently lowers and raises his large, outstretched hands. He whispers a little as he mouths the words: “calm down.”

It is reminiscent of the final moments of E.J.’s sectional semi-final. With the victory secured, E.J. glanced up to his father who pointed back at him and nodded in approval.

Eric Gordon Sr. has always served two roles in the life of the child who bares his name: father and coach. Eric Sr. was the first person to hand his son a basketball, and he’s been teaching E.J. what to do with it ever since.

“In some ways, he’s always going to be my coach,” E.J. says. “Even if he isn’t out there on the court.”

Eric Sr. set the tone early for his son, coaching him at every level up until high school. As a fifth grader on the AAU team that finished second place nationally, E.J. would always be matched up against the biggest, meanest sixth grader in practices. Eric Sr. would run full-court, one-on-one drills and every time E.J. looked to him to call a foul, he would just look the other way.

“That is when (E.J.) took things to another level,” Eric Sr. says. “He’s just been there ever since.”

That toughness was put to the test this past year, but it didn’t come in the form of a big, mean sixth grader. It came in the form of a phone call.

During his junior season, E.J. had verbally committed to play college basketball for Bruce Weber at the University of Illinois. The location of the school along with Weber’s track record developing guards weighed most heavily on E.J.’s decision to choose Illinois over schools like Arizona, Notre Dame, and Duke. IU didn’t make the short list mostly because the coaching controversy surrounding then-head coach Mike Davis left E.J. with little assurance of who he would be playing for by the time he got to campus.

But that March the landscape changed when IU hired Kelvin Sampson to replace Davis as head basketball coach. Sampson, in turn, hired Jeff Meyer as an assistant. Back in the ’80s and ’90s Meyer coached at Liberty University, and during that stint he brought in a defensive-minded forward named Eric Gordon – soon to father a son of the same name...

In the span of just a few weeks, not only did E.J. come to know what coaches he would play for at IU; he literally knew one of the coaches he would play for at IU.
Sampson had recruited E.J. while at Oklahoma, and after arriving in Bloomington he got in touch with E.J.’s high school coach Doug Mitchell. Considering their original doubts about IU had been removed, the Gordons felt it couldn’t hurt giving their in-state school a second look.

This past fall E.J. visited IU, and after informing coach Weber that he was talking to the Hoosiers, the bidding war was officially on. Weber began calling more frequently and even paid a visit to E.J.’s mother, Denise, at Warren Central High School where she teaches business education.

The back and forth game intensified over time, as each school continually “showed E.J. the love,” as Eric Sr. put it.

The ordeal weighed heavily on the high school senior – even affecting his play on the court. But in the end, analyzing a worst-case scenario helped him realize his best-case scenario.

“Let’s just say you’re having a god-awful day,” Eric Sr. told his son. “If you woke up that morning, and things are just bad, what place do you feel most comfortable? At Indiana, you’ve got maybe a thousand students who went to North Central, or one of the public schools where you grew up. You’ve got your buddy A.J. (Ratliff), he went to North Central, and he knows what you’re going through. You can easily call your parents, and they can zip down in 45 minutes. You can talk to the coaches, any of them, and they know the family pretty good. You can talk to the assistant coach – he coached your dad. When you think of it that way … It’s a no brainer.”
All of a sudden, the decision was simple, but the predicament was far from it. E.J. had given coach Weber his word. A call had to be made, and E.J. wanted to be the one to make it.

“I was proudest (of E.J.) when he said he wanted to be the one to make that call,” Denise Gordon says. “He stood up and took that responsibility all on his own. He handled it like a champ.”

On Oct. 13, 2006, E.J. made the trip down to Bloomington, signed his letter of intent to play basketball at IU, and served as the guest of honor at that evening’s Hoosier Hysteria – the official kickoff to the basketball season. That night Eric Sr. sat with E.J. and had the pleasure of hearing his son’s name – his name – chanted by 14,000 of Indiana basketball’s most avid fans. His boy had found a home.

The cranking sound of the buzzer echoes through the tiny gym at Municipal Gardens, and Aaron’s team has lost the championship game. Eric Sr. is quick to point out that the opposing team has more fifth graders than Aaron’s team, but that hardly brightens the mood of a 9-year-old.

After receiving his second place plaque, Aaron slumps next to E.J.. No words are spoken. The two just sit there silently. E.J. then places his big, left hand on his brother’s slender, right knee.

No more than a couple seconds pass before a woman approaches E.J. and explains how happy she is that he changed his mind – she’s been an IU fan her entire life. Then come the photograph seekers, the autograph seekers, and the general supporters who tell E.J. to, “keep up the good work.”

Next thing Aaron knows, he is posing for pictures with his brother and members of the team that just beat him. E.J.’s grandmother, Carolyn, laughs and boasts about her celebrity grandson.

On the way out of the gym, the family passes the display window by the front door that contains signed photos from former Div. I basketball players like Chris Thomas, Eric Montross, and Steve Alford. On the top shelf, front and center, is a framed picture of E.J. that’s signed: “Thanks for helping me develop my skills – Eric Gordon.”

To deny the attention, the publicity, the hoop-la, would be to deny reality. When you’re 18-years-old and they sell your T-shirt in the lobby of a high school basketball game, you’re kind of a big deal – especially when that shirt features the Michael Jordan logo and reads “Air Gordon.”

“When you first start going through it, it’s fun,” E.J. says. “Everybody is giving you compliments and telling you how great you are. But over a certain point it can change you mentally and change how you play.”

When it gets to be too much, there is one, simple solution that keeps things from getting to E.J.’s head and that, he says, is, “My Dad.”

Eric Sr. doesn’t keep his son grounded by force, but rather by reminding him of his roots and reinforcing his goals. After all, beneath all the signatures and smiling photographs is still just a kid who’s favorite thing to do is hang out with childhood friends from his quiet neighborhood just beyond the bustle of central Indianapolis.
The reality is, E.J. has never lifted a weight but his mother will tell you he eats like a horse. In fact, the biggest trouble E.J.’s ever found himself in came when he ate his father’s Steak ‘n’ Shake.

“I was starving,” Eric Sr. says. “That really pissed me off.”

E.J. will tell you that life is “all about being happy.” His Facebook profile is brief, but it ends with: “I think I’m a good person to talk to and be around. And I love to meet new people.”

That’s where E.J. comes from in life, but the attention, now, is all about where he’s going. He says his goals are to win the Big Ten, and hopefully win an NCAA championship. On a personal level, E.J. would like the chance to be National Freshman of the Year and maybe even a candidate for National Player of the Year. E.J. stipulates all of these with “hopefully,” but his father is quick to remove any doubt about IU’s prospects for next season – on the lone condition that junior forward D.J White returns for his senior season.

“I see no reason IU wouldn’t be a top-five team preseason and they would compete for a national championship,” he says. “There is just no way in my mind that I can see anything different.”

On the way home from the game Aaron and E.J. return to giggling at the DVD that pumps out rap music. They’re watching Hoops Mix Tape, a collection of high school highlight reels from the likes of Vince Carter, Kobe Bryant, and Lebron James.  After a couple minutes, E.J. says, “play mine.”

They shuffle past clips from current high school phenoms Derrick Rose and O.J. Mayo, and get to the section simply titled “Eric Gordon.” Draped in his brother’s massive arm, Aaron grins ear-to-ear as the four-minute montage ends with a scene from E.J.’s AAU game last summer. E.J. gets the ball on a fast break, and some poor kid thinks about defending him before E.J. skies and dunks over the sap – thighs to eyes – leaving his opponent heaped on the floor.

It’s surreal to think that somewhere else in the country, some random basketball fan has probably shaken his head and laughed at this dunk, calling it “sick” or “ridiculous.” It’s surreal because at this moment, Aaron can fall over, laugh, and think to himself, “That’s my brother.”

But as the clip ends, the surreal once again becomes real. E.J. asks Aaron for some of the candy he got after the game, and the two start to argue over which clip to watch next. Suddenly, there’s no need for reminders about potential or restoring Hoosier glory.

It’s just a regular family, in their regular SUV, on a regular Sunday afternoon.