“By the time he graduated from kindergarten, he was taller than his kindergarten teacher,” said his mother, Teikra Burns.
Although he always seemed too big to fit on one campus or conference, Burns finally found a stage big enough for him. Barnes is a 6-foot-9, 275-pound jubilant ball who is at the center of North Carolina State’s dizzying rampage to the Final Four. He builds like a bouncer, passes like a magician, moves like a tap dancer and leads like a piper. He can sing and play the piano, stand-up bass, tuba, and saxophone. His high school basketball coach thinks he might become a politician or a preacher. He holds dual university degrees in sociology and health studies.
Burns wore a grin and gap-toothed face during this March’s wildest trip. NC State won five games in five days, including one in overtime after scoring a 3 past the regulation buzzer, earning a spot in the ACC Tournament and its automatic berth. obtained the right. They beat Oakland in overtime in the second round, then beat top-seeded Marquette and Duke last weekend, extending their magic carpet to suburban Phoenix and facing top-seeded Purdue in Saturday’s national semifinals.
“It was very overwhelming,” Takera said. “But I’m overwhelmed with joy. That’s a bit of a contradiction, isn’t it? But I’m like, ‘Wow.’ But I’m happy. ”
“It was kind of crazy to go from getting almost zero media attention to having cameras following me all day long,” Burns said last week. “It was cool, but I definitely noticed.”
Burns’ father, Dwight, works full-time as a senior official with the South Carolina Department of Probation, Parole and Pardons. On the sideline on Saturdays in the fall, he helps lead Clemson football coach Dabo Swinney’s security detail. If you’ve ever seen uniformed police protecting Swinney as he shakes hands with opposing coaches after a game, you’ve seen DJ Burns’ father at work.
Dwight Barnes was back on national TV last weekend, flexing his arms and tapping his biceps as his son scored goal after goal, scoring 29 points against Duke University. was.
“Our close friends and family have been watching me do it ever since DJ started playing basketball,” Dwight said with a laugh. “For people who haven’t seen it, it’s kind of hard to get through the airport these days.”
Frank Hamrick, Barnes’ coach at York Preparatory Academy, said the gesture shows Barnes’ parents are present, supportive and not overbearing. Stated. They allowed him to coach Barnes sparingly in a way that many parents of high-level youth players wouldn’t. During games, when Barnes would put the ball in the post, Dwight would yell, “Go to work!” But that was the only instruction Hamrick ever heard.
When he was growing up in Rock Hill, South Carolina, children and adults alike gravitated toward Barnes. During his sophomore year, Barnes would sometimes come home missing the coats and sweatshirts he had given him. “Honey, take care of yourself first,” his mother often told him.
“DJ is his mom’s reincarnation,” Dwight said. “People have been asking me, when they see me, they see my smile. They’re like, ‘DJ, you’re not getting a smile from me.’ DJ can’t get his personality from me. He is the reincarnation of his mom. ” DJ loves to have fun and he doesn’t meet people he doesn’t know. He wants to take care of the weak and make sure everyone is okay, sometimes to his own detriment. ”
While Takera was growing up, he watched his mother, Alberta, temporarily take in nine children who had been placed in foster care or adoption. The entire community, including her friends, her far-flung family, and church members, called her Grandma Bart. At holiday dinners, Takera ate next to her unofficially adopted grandchild in Alberta.
“Our Thanksgiving is like the Rainbow Coalition,” Takera said.
Barnes’ birthday was in October, two months after his kindergarten closed. His family received district approval for him to start work a year early. “He passed all the entrance tests with flying colors,” Takera said. “And he was huge,” said Takera, who wore a suit in his kindergarten graduation photo, “and he looked like he was 8 or 9 years old.” “He was always the bigger guy.”
Hamrick loved poetry and taught his players his favorite poem, “If,” by Rudyard Kipling. During one game, Hamrick became enraged by a series of calls and punched the referee until a technical foul appeared to be imminent. Suddenly, Hamrick felt two hands placed on his shoulders. I heard Burns whisper in my ear. “I wish I could keep my head down when people around me are losing their minds and blaming themselves for it.”
“I quoted Rudyard Kipling at a basketball game,” Hamrick said. “How many 10th or 11th graders have the courage to go up to the head coach and reprimand him with their own words? I just kept my mouth shut and sat on the bench.”
Takera, who was Burns’ childhood assistant principal, recalled telling her son: So I want to see A here. ” When he got a C in his geometry class, Takela made him take it again. She suggested to her teacher that she connect her lessons with basketball, and Barnes thrived. For him, the angle of his basketball court always made sense.
“Basketball has always brought people together,” Burns said. “That’s why we love it.”
Although his size set him apart, Barnes’ instincts and intelligence set him apart. Even when he was hitting the post, he read the floor like a point guard. When Burns was in eighth grade, Winthrop, who was in his backyard in Rock Hill, offered him that scholarship. He received over 20 scholarship offers, with Virginia and South Carolina recruiting him hard and settling in Tennessee.
Burns had taken enough classes to graduate high school a year early. His family made a plan with Tennessee State and determined that Burns would be able to handle his academic rigor a year earlier than expected. And he did. It was a lifestyle he wasn’t ready for.
“In terms of maturity, he wasn’t ready,” Takera said. “He needed to come back home to grow and mature. When he comes in as one of the star players at the University of Tennessee, he’s going to be able to be at any party, even if he’s redshirting. it was fun.”
Tennessee coach Rick Barnes shared with his parents Barnes’ difficult adjustment during his redshirt season. They all decided Barnes needed a fresh start. His parents thanked Mr. Burns for keeping his departure low-key.
Barnes returned to Rock Hill and Winthrop. When Barnes transferred, “he had already accomplished some things and was living his best life,” Takera said. He joined the Big South squad as a freshman, led the Eagles to two conference championships and was named Big South Player of the Year as a junior.
Barnes was ready to try big conference basketball again as a transfer, and he and his family scheduled five official recruiting visits. They were so impressed with North Carolina State coach Kevin Keatts that they skipped the final four.
Barnes averaged 18.3 points during the NCAA Tournament, but his soft touch around the rim is his second skill. Barnes manipulates the Wolfpack’s offense through post-ups, often starting near the 3-point line and forcing defenders to retreat as he looks across the court. His ballet feet make him difficult to guard one-on-one, but his vision and passing decimate double teams.
His combination of quickness and size has drawn curiosity from NFL talent evaluators. (“DJ Barnes doesn’t play football,” Hamrick said. “He doesn’t mind hitting you, but I don’t think he wants to get hit.”) Catching a pass The hard-hitting tight end played football until the eighth grade, when he decided to practice basketball year-round.
“He loved soccer until he dragged people onto the field and it got a little heavy,” Takera said. “His teammates went to the coach and let him know, ‘DJ is playing too rough!'”
Despite his unconventional size, Barnes may have a future in the NBA. The best player in the world, Denver Nuggets MVP center Nikola Jokic, has declared himself a fan of Barnes, citing his passing and shot-making and how his teammates enjoy playing with him. Ta.
Barnes’ professional future can wait. He loved being a star in his NCAA tournament, but admitted to his mother that it could be overwhelming at times. She reminds her son that this is what he dreamed of. Barnes just needs to manage his time and doesn’t need to change anything. He became famous for no other reason than that the wider world has now discovered him.
“He can be himself,” Takera said. “He identifies with all of this. What a blessing.”
