Tough Enough To Stuff But �� - Loren Woods leads a good Arizona Wildcats team

LOREN WOODS is the nation's top center on one of the nation's best teams. His deft moves can create quick lay-ins or send an opponent's shot back down his throat. That's nice and all, but Woods still needs to prove he can cut it in the biggest games.

Two years ago, the Arizona coaching staff was on a mission: Make lanky and oh-so-talented 7-1 center Loren Woods a tough son of a gun. They didn't want him to be a tough SOB, or any number of other things punctuated by R-rated language. Coach Lute Olson, you see, doesn't curse in practice or during games, and he doesn't let his players, either.

"I'm a teacher, and that language has no place in a classroom," Olson says.

But he still wanted Woods to have thicker skin and a more stable head. So the staff developed a Make Loren Bad theme and put forward Eugene Edgerson. something of a jovial hit man, at the helm.

"I would talk trash to him," Edgerson says, grinning. "I wanted to test him."

He did this for all of Woods' sit-out transfer year and continued for the first few months of last season, when Edgerson only practiced with the Wildcats a few days a week because he was redshirting.

His plan of attack?

You sorry ... I'm only 6-6 and I'm defending you ... I'm manhandling you....

For the first two months, Woods did what Woods is known to do when adversity rises: Dissolve. Then one practice last December, Edgerson's mouth kept running over. Woods snapped. He wanted to fight, even though Edgerson--with more leverage and much more strength--would have cut him down like a chain saw through a weed.

"Then Coach Olson throws me out of practice," Edgerson says. "I guess he was looking after Loren."

There has been no defining moment in the steady, but still incomplete, transformation of Loren Woods. But standing up to Mean Gene was one step.

Today, Woods is the linchpin on what Olson says is his most talented team ever, one that stands at the top of numerous polls and ranks as a heavy favorite to waltz through next week's talented field at Maui Invitational with a starting five that features five Wooden Award nominees.

Woods is (mostly) recovered from two offseason back surgeries to stabilize two vertebrae, and he has smoothed out of his yo-yo confidence swings, which once prompted Wake Forest coach Dave Odom to suspend him for the now-famous reason that he was "taking the game too seriously."

But here's the deal: can Woods play big in the biggest of big games?

This much is certain: He hasn't yet.

But it should be noted that he hasn't had much chance. Woods missed the NCAA Tournament last year because of the back surgery. Two years ago, he sat out as a transfer. Three years ago, he started 14 games, then served a seven-game suspension and never returned to the starting lineup. (Odom "played it up to make it seem like i was crazy," Woods says.) Four years ago, he played alongside one Tim Duncan, who carried the team pretty well.

This year, when the Wildcats are making their run to Minneapolis, can they count on Woods to nail the soft turnaround when when they need 2 or to block a shot and stop a run? Will he finally banish the towel?

The towel, if you have forgotten, comes when he sulks on the bench after committing a dumb foul or missing a gimmie. He puts a white towel over his head and descends into a cave, looking like a gaunt, whipped boxer.

"We didn't have towels in high school," Woods says, shaking his head. "But I did that at Wake--it was me being immature. I've had to grow up here, and I have.

In many ways, Woods has grown up.

He realized he was running out of chances when he transferred from Wake Forest. He gained a year of maturity simply by being older. It may seem as if Woods has been around forever, but he's only 22. And he also responded to Olson's firm but gentle style.

"Loren is a sensitive young man," Olson says, with obvious affection.

And, lest we forget, he is a wonderful player. He led the Wildcats in scoring last season (15.6 ppg) and moves so well, without a trace of awkwardness that usually plagues 7-footers. He has nice hands, and his sense of timing has helped create one of the game's best shot blockers.

Olson thinks Woods can carry the Wildcats. He points to the first game the Wildcats played against Standford last year, a 68-65 Arizona win in which Woods had 16 points, 12 boards, four blocks, two steals and shot 55 percent. Meanwhile Standford's frontcourt combo of Mark Madsen and Jarron Collins totaled 15 points on 29-percent shooting.

"Loren played really well up there," Olson says. "When we've needed him, he's hit big shots."

Other coaches who have watched Woods all say he has no resemblance to the head case he was at Wake Forest.

But no one will say, without hesitation, that Woods can carry a team, that you want the ball in his hands at the buzzer. Instead, you hear more about what he doesn't have to do.

"He's cog in their machine," says one head coach. "He won't have to be the man because everyone else is so talented."

Fifth-year senior and Wildcat forward Justin Wessel says the same thing: "He doesn't have to do everything here."

The hesitancy from observers raises a red flag. It also is a reminder why Woods still is one of the most unique and maddening players today. He isn't obsessed with the game of basketball, but he is obsessed with being dominant when he plays it. He is blessed by being 7-1, but he is burdened by the expectations that come with it. Most of those expectations come from himself.

Woods has come a million miles, but does he still have light years to go?

Moments after talking about no longer hiding behind the towel, he is asked about one of Arizona's more humbling losses in last season's 27-7 run, a 26-point whipping by LSU in Baton Rouge. Woods, in a wonderfully candid moment, says he and some of his teammates weren't ready mentally, were sluggish at tip off. He assumed the game started at 7 p.m. He was off by five hours.

"I thought it was a night game," Woods says. "We got to Louisiana at like 10 at night, and some of us just figured it was a night game. Then it was at like noon, and I was really surprised."

Such a statement--perhaps illustrating Woods' lack of focus on basketball--summons this thought: Would Woods even be a player if he weren't 7-1?

Because he is so athletic, Oklahoma coach Kelvin Sampson insists Woods would be a great player even if he were 6-7. But would he be playing if he weren't so tall?

Recruiting analyst Brick Oettinger, a North Carolinian who watched Woods at Wake Forest and before that in high school at St. Louis' Cardinal Ritter, likes Woods and is happy to see him blossom. But ...

"I don't think he would be playing," Oettinger says. "It doesn't seem to be in his heart the way it is with some guys. That's not to say he doesn't play hard because he does. He just doesn't have the same passion. Karl Malone has that intensity. Alonzo Mourning has that intensity. It's tough to play with constant aggression. Woods never has done it and never will."

When Woods is asked that question--what if he were shorter--he gives a curious answer.

"I don't have to think about that because I'm 7-1. Period. That's not even an issue. I don't even care about what the person who is 6-7 thinks."

Coaches and teammates say Woods is a well-liked guy, a practical joker who gets along with every social group on his team. But Woods says he doesn't spend much time with his teammates away from the court. Most players live near campus. Woods lives in a two-bedroom apartment 25 minutes away, up Campbell Avenue, at the foot of the Santa Catalina Mountains, with former Wildcat Jason Stewart.

Woods is a fast talker, an obviously bright young man. Likeable, too. But nothing really interests him other than playing basketball and video games. And rapper Jay-Z.

His major--family studies--isn't exactly calculus. He adamantly says that he doesn't read books. Doesn't watch basketball on TV, either. Or other sports for that matter.

"To tell you the truth, I never watched basketball unless it was a team I liked," Woods says. "In the eighth grade it was the Fab 5, and in sixth grade I liked UNLV. In high school, I liked Rasheed Wallace. People labeled him as an attitude problem. How can people say that when he would get two technicals but 11 rebounds?"

There isn't even a basketball goal near his apartment.

"When I'm away from basketball, I like to be away from it," he says.

When asked what he would like to do after playing basketball--first, he will become a top-five (if not No. 1) draft pick and have a lucrative, if not wildly successful, pro career--Woods gives one of his most decisive answers.

"When I'm done playing for good, I don't want to do anything," Woods says.

Woods' mother, Colleen Woods, who still lives in St. Louis, doesn't know what interests her son, other than video games.

"That's about it," she says.

When pressed, Woods says he likes to drive at night. He'll get in his Chevy Tahoe and cruise through Tucson alone.

But in late October, a few weeks before the games began, he reflected on his college career and could see why he sometimes has failed, why his immaturity has set him back.

"When I played at Wake my freshman year, I thought I should be starting," Woods says. "Now I look back at Sean Allen (who was the starter), and he was a good player and better than me. When I came here to Arizona, I looked around and saw how good everyone was and thought maybe I should have gone to Seton Hall. But Seton Hall has really good players, too. I took two steps back by going to Wake, but I don't want to put the blame on anybody."

It's difficult to estimate how much Woods' height affects his mindset. He never has been much of a weightlifter, preferring instead to let his 73 inches and athleticism carry him, even when it can't. He has narrow shoulders, and it's difficult for him to put on weight.

"Last season when he would face someone who was bigger than him, Loren would just say he was a finesse player," Wessel says.

"I just thought I had to be quicker when I played someone stronger," Woods says. "If someone was bigger than me and beating me, I would just think if we played in the open court, I would destroy him. Or I'd say, `If the ref wouldn't let him put his hands on me, I'd kill him.'"

Woods played last season at 251 pounds. After the back surgery, his weight plummeted to 230. Last season he could bench press 220 pounds once or twice. After surgery, that dropped to 135 pounds. He's now up to about 240 pounds and benching about 170. Woods says only now is he serious about lifting weights.

"I didn't lift at all once the season started last year," he says. "Well, maybe once. I just don't enjoy lifting weights."

Once?

"I'm telling you, liking weights was a low priority."

Of course, Woods is exaggerating--he did lift all through last season; he just didn't try very hard in doing it. He basically would come in the weight room and horse around.

"He would come in, do a few bench, do some triceps pull-downs and then quit," says the team's new strength and conditioning coach, Carla Garrett, a former Olympic discus thrower.

This summer, Woods knew he needed to lift to strengthen his back. So when Garrett told him he would be lifting daily, Woods suggested he come by at 2 in the afternoon.

"I said it was 8, or it was nothing at all," Garrett says. "The first week he tested me, showing up a few minutes late. I told him, `If you're going to be late, don't bother showing up at all.'"

Woods began lifting and Garrett says he even started wearing sleeveless T-shirts because he was proud of his body.

So he is now the big man on one of college basketball's premier teams. He is soon to become a millionaire. He likes that.

But how will any of that translate to March? Will Woods catapult his team to the national title and himself into the most sought after NBA draft pick?

One Friday afternoon in October, Woods sits in the McKale Center, which is empty, except for the women's volleyball team practicing. He is eating a bag of peanuts. Protein, you see. Every little bit helps.

He is asked to imagine life after basketball, after making millions and millions. What then?

Woods repeats his earlier pronouncement, declares he doesn't want to do anything.

Nothing?

"I want to buy some property on a tropical island and live there," Woods says. "I don't want to do anything, just have a nice place. Just me and my family. And a couple of nice cars, even though I don't have to go anywhere."

What about a basketball goal?

"Yeah, a basketball goal. Got to have a basketball goal."

Perhaps that in itself signals a change. Even enough to lead the Wildcats to the Final Four.

Steve Harrison is a free-lance writer in Fort Lauderdale, Fla.

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