Lucas: Friendly, But With Fire

This feature story appears in the latest issue of Born & Bred – a magazine shared exclusively with members of The Rams Club. For more information on The Rams Club and how you can support Tar Heel student-athletes, visit www.ramsclub.com.

By Adam Lucas

You should not think poorly about Hubert Davis because of this Cameron Indoor Stadium story that I am going to tell you.

You should not think he is unprofessional. You absolutely should not think he was too casual about his job at ESPN. You should not think that when he was on the air, he did anything but conduct himself with the absolute height of impartiality.

But at the same time, if you are a Tar Heel and you have ever been to a Carolina-Duke game at Cameron Indoor Stadium, or perhaps even watched one on television, then you are going to understand. You walk in the doors of Cameron and you promise yourself you will be on your best behavior. You are going to cause no trouble whatsoever. You are a guest. Just sit and soak in the environment of the best rivalry in sports.

But Cameron Indoor Stadium has a way of doing something to Tar Heels. And it's not long before the blue is the wrong color and the cheers are so choreographed and the body paint is getting smeared on your shirt and you just have to…well, we'll get to that.

And you should not—you will not—think poorly about Hubert Davis because of it.

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Let us establish this right at the beginning. Every single person contacted for this story—this notably includes his 18-year-old son, Elijah, and if you know anything about teenage sons you understand how rare this is—tells you that Hubert Davis is one of the nicest people they know. It seems to be part of the standard description of Davis, like "12-year NBA veteran" or "Leslie's husband" or "Elijah, Gracie and Micah's dad."

It is indisputably who he is. People are first predisposed to like him when they hear that laugh, that infectious cackle that instantly makes you believe you have just said the funniest words that have ever been uttered in the history of human speech.

But then they learn it's more than just a laugh when they see how he treats people. At some point during his coaching career, you will probably hear that Davis's kindness comes naturally. And it does. But he also tries—really tries—at it.

That is why, as the on-air talent for ESPN's College Gameday, the biggest show in the sport, he took the time to learn not just the names of the crew, but the names of the crew's families. It is why when Gameday came to the Triangle for a game, he and Leslie would have the entire crew—not just the on-air personalities, but the entire staff—to their house for dinner. It's why the Davis family has opened their home to multiple student groups during Hubert's stint as an assistant coach.

It is why, when he and Leslie were still running their youth basketball camp at the Smith Center in the early 2000's, he provided every camper with his personal phone number and email address and encouraged them to contact him anytime. It wasn't unusual for campers to make in-season trips to Washington or Detroit or Atlanta just to see their buddy Hubert, who just happened to be one of the best three-point shooters in the NBA.

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But this is also Hubert Davis, one of the universally acclaimed nicest people in the world.

It is the 2008-09 season, and Davis is back in Chapel Hill with Gameday for a Carolina game against Miami. It's Friday, the day before the game, and Davis spends most of his time on set alternating between reading stories about the world of college basketball and reading the Bible.

Because no one can go near a basketball court without hoisting at least one shot, the crew is shooting on the floor of the Smith Center. Davis happens to walk by and the ball finds him. He lifts a jumper and it falls a little short.

The crew, of course, ribs him.

Davis' face changes. He gets the ball, and this time he backs up multiple steps behind the three-point line. Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish.

"Look up my career three-point percentage," he says casually to senior researcher Jason McCallum. And then he goes back to his reading.

McCallum checks. At that time, the man who wouldn't allow himself to be outshot by GameDay crew members is the second-leading three-point shooter (44.1 percent) in the history of the NBA.

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Shooting has always been part of the Davis family genetics. You know about Walter, of course. You might not be as familiar with Hubert Davis, Sr. He went to Johnson C. Smith University and says now with a smile, "I had a jumper."

The father recalls his one-on-one games with his son: "Once he learned how to shoot those three-pointers, I was no match for him in shooting. He'd stand out there and pop those three's, and that was trouble for me. So then I'd post him up, but once he started lifting those weights, right then and there, I was doomed."

His shooting comes from his dad, but all involved will tell you that his personality comes from his mother, Bobbie. She died in 1986 after a battle with oral cancer, but you see her every day in the way Hubert Davis schedules his free time around his children's activities, or takes the opportunity of an open Sunday to drive to Lynchburg to have lunch with his oldest son at college, or the way he adds a handwritten note to the bottom of what would otherwise be a form letter.

"A lot of what you see with Hubert's personality is from his mom," says Hubert Davis Sr. "The way he treats people, the way he listens—that's all from his mom."

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Scene: the Davis house.

Davis's wife, Leslie: "Can you think of any examples that show your competitiveness?"

Hubert: "My birth."

Leslie: "What?"

Hubert: "From birth, people have underestimated me. Since I was born, if you put a ball in front of me, it was a competition. It doesn't matter what it was. I was always going to go 100 percent."

This is why Hubert Davis and the mid-1990's New York Knicks—a seemingly odd combination—worked perfectly. Those were the Knicks of Charles Oakley and Anthony Mason and John Starks and…Hubert?

Yes, Hubert.

"That team and our identity was very much about physical toughness," says Greg Anthony, who played with Davis for three seasons on the Knicks. "In those days we didn't have the internet, so we just assumed that if the Knicks drafted a guy, he would fit in. And Hubert did. A team is like a family, and there are some who aren't exactly like the others, but you always have their back. I don't know that Hubert has ever hated anything in his life. But when it comes to competing, you won't find anyone more competitive."

Anthony has spent a lifetime in basketball. When his son, Cole, was choosing where to attend college, he could have gone anywhere in the country. Everyone understood it was likely to be a very short stop in college before Cole moved on to the NBA, where he is now starring with the Orlando Magic.

But for that one year, Greg Anthony wanted him to get as much from the experience as possible, both on the court and off the court. And he knew exactly who he wanted to guide him.

"When you send your child to play for someone, you want to trust that what you see is what you get," Anthony says. "That's Hubert. He always knew that Hubert truly cared about him. Through his struggles, he saw who cared. And Hubert was the head of that, and that's why we could not be more thrilled to be part of the Carolina Family."

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Hubert and Leslie's oldest son, Elijah, is well aware of his father's policy on competition.

Before Elijah left to play at the University of Lynchburg this summer, he was working out with his father. The game was simple: Elijah had to make five baskets, or Hubert had to get five defensive stops. The younger Davis won the first game, 5-0.

At that point, Hubert began to use some of his Knicks training. There was hand-checking. There was bumping. And oh, the trash talk.

"What's the matter, can't you score on an old man?" Hubert asked Elijah after a miss.

"I saw that look in his eye he gets when he is coaching or playing," Elijah says. "He does not accept losing. He strives to win everything he can and does not let anyone outwork him. That's the thing I admire most about him is that switch. He is all smiles and laughter off the court, but when he hits the court it is all business. He is the most competitive person I have ever met and people will soon realize how much fire he has inside of him."

"Oh, there is a button," says assistant coach Sean May. "He's got a button you don't want to push, and I love that about him."

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Hubert Davis's new Tar Heel team begin to realize that fire at a September practice. The head coach has instituted a new drill, called Trenches. It is a simple one-on-one battle, with the offensive player taking the ball near the top of the key. His job is simple: score without dribbling outside the painted area. The defensive player has to make the stop.

Made baskets can be difficult in the drill; depending on matchups, it's harder than you might think to score on a defender who knows you're not going anywhere other than the paint. On this day, though, the offense gets a couple early hoops.

Scores happen. But Davis doesn't like the way his defenders react to them. He stops the drill.

"It is not OK," he barks while stalking across the lane. "Nobody should be smiling. If someone scores like that on me, something is going to happen. It is not OK to let them score. I want it to be a long night when you come to play against Carolina."

As his volume increases, the players look increasingly sheepish. Theo Pinson is sitting at the scorer's table, wide-eyed. The explosion is notable enough that the players are still discussing it the next day in the locker room.

"Him getting on us the way he did felt way worse than using a bunch of bad words," says Armando Bacot. "He had us all shook. That's the day we learned not to get on his bad side. It was almost like we had disappointed him, and that felt terrible. He has a way of doing it that lets you know you messed up, but also encouraging you at the same time."

That encouragement can take multiple forms. On this day, the Tar Heels finish the drill and finish the practice. Most of the players are staying to play pickup, which is not officially part of practice and therefore coaches cannot watch. Davis doesn't just speak to every player before he goes back upstairs to his office. He touches every single player. A fist bump here. A pat on the back there. An arm around the shoulder here.

This summer, Davis personally picked up as many players as he could at the airport when they were returning to campus after break. At some point, his ability to connect will be described as effortless. But it's not. It's very intentional, and it requires plenty of effort.

"I've told the guys I can't coach you unless I know you, and you can't play for me unless you know me," Davis says. "The only way to do that is spend time together and get to know each other. Something as simple as saying goodbye or hello or putting a hand on someone's shoulder goes a long way to developing that relationship. That's what Carolina basketball has always been about and that's what I'm about. I can't do this job just about basketball. Coaching is easier when they know you love them and care for them. If the only interaction I have with them is yelling at them and telling them to run the floor or box out, that won't work."

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Hubert Davis turned 50 years old in May of 2020. It was the middle of the lockdown phase of the pandemic. He had not seen his beloved father since before the pandemic began.

Let Hubert Davis, Sr. tell it:

"On his 50^th birthday, I told him I wanted to be the first one to congratulate him and wish him a happy birthday. So at 12:01 a.m., I sent him a text. In the text, I told him I looked up 'father' in the dictionary. I saw a picture of him. I looked up 'husband' in the dictionary and saw a picture of him. I looked up 'parent' in the dictionary and saw a picture of him. I told him that I was so proud of him for those three things, because he has delivered on all of them."

No mention of incredible basketball success, both playing and coaching. No mention of being a national television personality. Just family.

Junior called Senior later that day. "Dad, that was the best birthday wish I've ever gotten," he told him.

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You were promised a Cameron Indoor Stadium story, and now it is time.

Remember: no one's job on ESPN is to be a robot. Everyone attended school somewhere. They are not required to lose their affinity for their school, but they are required to be fair.

And Hubert Davis always was fair. But he was also always a Tar Heel.

College Gameday was broadcasting from Duke. It was Carolina-Duke weekend, and Duke assigned the ESPN Gameday talent to seats in the stands near midcourt, closer to the Carolina bench side of the court.

The Tar Heels went on a run. They were taking control of the game. Davis was sitting next to Rece Davis. Hubert's face stayed completely straight. His coworker could sense the emotion in him. But he said nothing, just watched the game.

Until, that is, he could take it no longer. The Cameron crowd had gone almost completely quiet as Carolina began to control the game. It was clear the Tar Heels were going to win. A sense of impending doom was settling over the crowd. It had been a very long nearly two hours enduring the sheer Duke-ness of the setting.

Hubert Davis, of ESPN temporarily but of Chapel Hill forever, leaned down to Rece Davis. Hubert had been perfectly cordial throughout the Blue Devil-tinged day. He had done his job.

But Hubert Davis was still Hubert Davis. And that is why, in a voice low enough that no one else could hear, he told Rece Davis exactly what was in his heart.

"I love," said Hubert Davis, "beating these guys in here."

Players Mentioned

Armando Bacot

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