Basketball was Darris Morris’ first love

BATESBURG, S.C. — Long before he became an All-SAC linebacker, Darris Morris was a mean, lean hooping machine at Batesburg-Leesville High School.

“Darris was just a natural-born athlete,” said Jason Smallen, Morris’ best friend in his prep days and now a Clemson University senior. “Darris had all the tools of an athlete. Size, speed, strength, long arms.”

Morris’ elongated, basketball-perfect arms were something else. Smallen remembers getting into a silly argument with Morris that eventually escalated from car chatter into a wrestling match by the side of the road.

“He got the best of me,” remembered Smallen. “With those arms, I couldn’t get to him. Then we laughed and got back in the car, and it was like it never happened.”

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Ross Cary, an assistant principal at 700-student Batesburg-Leesville, was the varsity hoops coach when Morris arrived on the scene. Cary admits he wasn’t immediately impressed with the skinny kid, who had been fighting blood disorders.

“Darris was six feet tall then, and I thought he was an average player and an average athlete who would never excel,” said a somewhat sheepish Cary. “But then Darris comes back out his sophomore year and he’s 6-foot-4. That’s when I knew he’d play varsity for me.”

Height made might, and Morris quickly blossomed into a stud. In Morris’ senior year, B-L, where hoops plays second fiddle to football, was only 5-14. But as current head basketball coach Bob Roudybush points out, “Darris won those five by himself.”

As the gregarious Morris’ hoops fame grew, so did his reputation as a character.

Cary says he referred to Morris as “Popeye,” and not because of his forearms.

“Popeye was a sailor and like any good sailor, Darris had a girl in every port,” said Cary. “It didn’t matter where we played, Darris was always talking to some girl.”

Morris became a legendary ladies’ man after winning a bet with Cary.

“We’re playing on the road and this girl walks in and she’s beautiful,” said Cary. “A 10. An absolute 10. Everybody’s whistling at her, going crazy. Of course, Darris pipes up that he can get her number.”

Cary couldn’t resist the temptation and bet Morris a Coke that he was playing out of his league.

“Five minutes later, Darris hands me this piece of paper,” Carey said with a chuckle, “I was skeptical, but then the girl walks over to me and says, ‘Yes, that’s my name and phone number.’ Guess, Darris charmed her out of it.

“I bought the Coke.”

Cary says Morris was a delight, someone you never had to chase down on practice days.

“Shoot, he loved to practice. You didn’t have to go get him, Darris would be there waiting for you,” Cary said. “Always practiced like it was a game, and he was the exact same way in football.”

Cary didn’t have to think long to recall one more Morris hoops anecdote.

“I had this dunk rule,” said Cary. “Kid misses a dunk and it’s no ifs, ands or buts, he’s coming out of the game. “Naturally, Darris misses a dunk and I snatch him right out of there.

“I guess he learned something. Two games later, Darris misses another dunk. This time, he doesn’t even wait for a deadball, he just leaves the floor and comes over and sits himself down next to me on the bench.”

Don’t get the impression, Morris was a clown, though. He could play. Cary recalls a game when Morris rejected 13 shots.

“He loved basketball, just loved it,” said Cary. “But he was a 6-5 post player. We sat Darris down one day and asked him how many 6-5 centers he saw playing Division I.”

Morris got the point. While he continued to hoop with all his heart, by the time his senior year started, he realized his best college opportunity rested with football.

Still, whenever he came back to visit B-L, his first request was always to “run with the boys” on the basketball team.

Even after the sad events of last weekend, there will be times when Cary will remember Morris, the basketball player. Cary will stroll into the B-L gym, recall all the dunks — and missed dunks — and a smile will break through his tears.

“Darris and I had a whole lot of fun together in this gym,” he said, moments after speaking emotionally at Morris’ funeral. “I always loved to watch that boy play.”