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07.03.05: Junior
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07.01.05: Tulane
coach, a N.C. native, wins national honor ...
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06.30.05: Deacons
lose out to Ohio State on prep phenom ...
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06.29.05: Final
2005 Collegiate Baseball Newspaper Poll ...
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06.28.05: Joy
in Texas over College World Series outcome ... Final Wrap:
CWS, Super Regionals & Regionals ...
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06.27.05: Longhorns
back on top of college baseball world ... Historical list:
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06.26.05: Longhorns
get the jump in championship round ...
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06.25.05: CWS
Notebook: Gators count on nation's top slugger ...
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06.24.05: Gamecocks'
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06.23.05: WNCT:
ECU to reveal football scheduling deals ... Horns advance;
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06.22.05: Mazey's
staff reloaded after 2nd hire in 2 weeks ... CWS: Bears, Sun
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News Nuggets, 07.04.05
NOTES FROM ECU AND BEYOND...
Previous Day Nuggets...
Next Day Nuggets...
Compiled from staff reports
and electronic dispatches
After coma, 'Baby Shaq'
scrapping his way back
GARY, IN Valparaiso's basketball
arena is only a few hundred feet from the local hospital's emergency room,
but it may as well have been the moon all those days Kenny Harris lay
frighteningly still.
Unconscious, he didn't so much as
blink, let alone move one of those massive feet or hands. He showed no sign
of knowing his parents had been at his side for days, that teammates and
friends were crowding the waiting room, and thousands of people he'd never
even met were praying for his recovery.
Doctors couldn't explain why the
seemingly healthy Division I center had collapsed and his heart had stopped.
Worse, they could make no promises for his future.
``They didn't know,'' said Kenneth
Jolly, Harris' father. ``(But) I knew he was going to wake up. Always
believed it. I raised a strong young man.''
Two months after his April 11 collapse,
Harris walked out of the hospital. His speech is still garbled, he's only a
shadow of the player so big he was dubbed ``Baby Shaq,'' and there are long
hours of rehab ahead.
But he's alive, proof to his family,
friends and teammates that miracles really do happen.
``You can't tell me that's not a
miracle,'' Jolly said, pointing to his son. ``You can't tell me God didn't
do that.''
Stories about Harris were spreading
across northwest Indiana almost from the time he got to high school. He was
big. No, make that massive. At 6-foot-10 and 350 pounds, he was an immovable
force in the middle, a guy who could change the game just by stepping onto
the court.
``I heard about him, geez, when I was a
sophomore or junior in high school,'' said Valparaiso forward Dan Oppland,
who grew up in St. Louis. ```Baby Shaq.' That's what I remember, `Baby Shaq.'
... When I saw him, he was bigger than Shaq. He definitely lived up to that
name.''
There was more to Harris than bulk,
though. He was a skillful passer and an unselfish player, never hesitating
to kick the ball out if he spotted an open teammate. He could shoot, too,
showing surprising range.
In his junior season at Bishop Noll
High School in Hammond, he shot 71.1 percent and averaged almost 24 points
and 13.3 rebounds. He set a school single-game scoring record with 45
points.
``In open gym, he's crossed somebody
over and hit a 3,'' Oppland said. ``A guy his size doing that? That's pretty
impressive.''
For all his size and talent, Harris is
as soft as a teddy bear. Humble, with a sweet baby face and a contagious
smile, he's quick to disarm anyone who's intimidated by him. If a teammate
is down, Harris is the first to try to find something to make him laugh.
Little kids terrified of his size soon climb on him like he's a personal
playground.
``I expected he was going to be some
intimidating big guy,'' Valpo teammate Seth Colclasure said, ``and he wasn't
that at all.''
Harris was forced to transfer from
Bishop Noll High School before his senior season. Jolly had been on sick
leave for several months, and the family no longer could afford the
$5,000-plus tuition at the private Catholic school.
Bishop Noll didn't oppose his transfer
to nearby Griffith High School, citing the family's financial troubles. But
the Indiana High School Athletic Association declared Harris ineligible,
saying his transfer was for athletic, not financial, reasons.
So Harris took the IHSAA to court.
After missing the first two games, he got a restraining order allowing him
to play. Finally, in early February 2003, a judge said Harris could play the
rest of the year.
Despite the distractions, he averaged
17.4 points and 10.5 rebounds a game, and was runner-up for 2003 Indiana Mr.
Basketball.
``He was like a man among boys,'' said
Valparaiso guard Ali Berdiel, who played against Harris in high school.
Harris' senior season ended with a
broken foot. During the idle weeks when he was recuperating, he put on
weight. A lot of it.
By the time he got to Valparaiso, he
weighed more than 400 pounds.
``Kenny was very much wanting to (lose
weight), and knew he had to do that in order to perform to his full
ability,'' Valparaiso coach Homer Drew said. ``We met with trainers, even
with a nutritionist to find out exactly what's the best food. And we had a
strength coach. We worked him down slowly so it wasn't all at one time.''
But other injuries cropped up. The
summer after his freshman season, he had gall bladder surgery. Last
December, he needed surgery for a herniated disc in his back.
``Each obstacle, each hurdle that came,
Kenny really handled that well,'' Drew said. ``I love that confidence, that
`We'll get it done and we'll move on.'''
By this past April, Harris finally was
healthy. His weight was down to about 300 pounds, his back was strong and he
couldn't wait for next season. So much so that when Jolly called his son
Harris goes by his mother's maiden name on the morning of April 11, he
cautioned him not to overdo it.
``The NCAA tournament (had just
finished) and he was mad because he wasn't playing,'' Jolly said. ``He was
working extra hard to try and get there next year.''
Harris doesn't remember collapsing. He
doesn't remember anything from that day, in fact. His teammates and coaches,
though, will never forget it.
During a supervised workout in
Valparaiso's weight room on April 11, Harris collapsed and began having
seizures. At some point, his heart stopped.
Bobby Brooks, Valparaiso's strength and
conditioning coach, called 911 and sent another player to get the team
trainer to help with CPR. While they waited for the ambulance, a
defibrillator was used.
Harris was rushed to Porter hospital,
the next street over from the quiet campus. Harris' parents arrived soon
after, as did the Rev. Maurice White, the family's pastor at Christ Baptist
Church in Gary.
``The doctors walked in and ... they
did not know if Kenny was going to make it,'' White said. ``We said,
`Absolutely not. We're not having that.' We asked if we could have prayer
and while we were praying, Kenny jumped three times. The first time, the
doctors said, `Hmmm.' The second time, they said, `Well, maybe.'
``The third time, they said it's a
possibility there could be something spiritual going on.''
White and Jolly have been best friends
for almost 30 years, since their days working in the Gary steel mills.
They've laughed together, raised their sons together and, for the last few
years, worshipped together at Christ Baptist.
After listening to White bug him for
years to come back to church, Jolly relented about five years ago. He
brought his son with him, and Harris was baptized last summer.
Four days before he collapsed, Harris
got a tattoo on his right shoulder: A cross and a basketball, cradled in
God's hands.
``This is our home,'' Jolly said,
simply, looking around Christ Baptist. ``I always preached to my son,
`You've got to have faith in God. You've got to believe in God.'''
For three weeks, though, faith was all
Harris' family and friends had.
While doctors ran test after test,
Harris remained comatose. He was moved to the brain trauma center at the
University of Chicago on April 20, but doctors there couldn't find answers,
either.
The cause of Harris' collapse remains
unknown; all doctors have found is that he was on medication for high blood
pressure and he had heart arrhythmia.
``That's all they've been able to
diagnose,'' Drew said. ``They've run many different tests but they have not
been able to find, `This is the cause for it.'''
Valparaiso, a Lutheran school located
about 70 miles east of Chicago, is small, only about 4,000 students, and
Harris' collapse rocked the tight-knit campus. His teammates tried to get on
with the business of living, resuming their offseason workouts and getting
ready for exams.
But thoughts of Harris and fears for
his future were never far from their minds. Catching themselves referring
to him in the past tense, they'd quickly correct themselves.
``Yeah, you do kind of ask, `Why?'''
Jim Hooper, one of Harris' roommates, said in late April, when Harris was
still in a coma. ``Why are all these things happening to him, all in a row
and all piling up at one time? I guess that's just the way life is
sometimes.
``If there was something we could do to
take some of the pain off of him right now,'' Hooper added, his voice
breaking, ``I know every one of us would do it.''
Finally, almost a month after Harris'
collapse, there was good news.
On May 6, the Jollys announced their
son had regained consciousness and was out of intensive care. Five days
later, he was transferred to the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago for
physical, occupational and speech therapy.
From there, the progress was swift
though not always as swift as Harris might have liked.
``One morning, he got up at five in the
morning and (the nurses) had to catch him because he was running down the
hall dribbling a basketball,'' Jolly said.
Another day, doctors allowed him to
play basketball for about an hour.
``He was rusty,'' Jolly said. ``And he
got mad.''
On June 16, two months and five days
after he collapsed, Harris went home.
``I feel good now,'' he said, his voice
a little slurred but still understandable. ``It's over, and I don't have to
deal with it. Now I can get back to the classroom and to basketball.''
Whether he'll be able to do that is
still uncertain.
Harris is doing therapy three to five
times a week, and cardiologists are still trying to determine what, if any,
physical limitations he'll have in the future. He continues to take the
blood pressure medication, and a defibrillator is implanted in the left side
of his chest.
But he walks without problems, and his
mind is as sharp as it ever was.
``He can only get better because he's
young,'' Jolly said. ``He wouldn't be happy if he couldn't play basketball.
But he's happy that he's alive.''
News Nuggets are
compiled periodically based on material supplied by staff members; data
published by ECU, Conference USA and its member
schools; and reports from Associated Press and
other sources. Copyright 2005
Bonesville.net and other publishers. All rights reserved. This material may not be
published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
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