Before every basketball game he plays, Trevor Ariza closes his
eyes, bows his head, and prays for Tajh.
Ariza knows his brother, in turn, prays for him. It says so on
Ariza’s right arm in a tattoo of hands in prayer, his
brother’s name and the years 1990-1996.
“My little brother that passed ““ he’s my
motivation to play the game,” Ariza said.
This desire can be sensed with every rim-rattling dunk and
paranormal pass Ariza makes. But long before UCLA’s freshman
forward ever became a fan favorite for marking the rebirth of hope
in Westwood, it was he, along with the rest of his family, doing
the cheering while his father, former Florida wing Kenny McClary,
played professionally in Venezuela.
After one particular game had just tipped off, it was suddenly
stopped, and Ariza watched from the stands as McClary was pulled
off the court.
Ariza became separated from his parents, and since he
didn’t understand Spanish, he couldn’t figure out what
was going on until a translator broke the news to him.
Tajh, his youngest brother, had died. He was 5.
A pudgy kid who Ariza was close enough to share a bed with, Tajh
had been playing back at the family’s hotel residence on the
32nd floor balcony when he slipped and fell. When Ariza arrived on
the scene, he saw the ambulances, the police cars, and Tajh’s
body on the first floor.
“There was blood everywhere,” said Ariza, who was 10
at the time. “It’s hard seeing someone you love lying
on the floor dead. Like I was in a tunnel, I couldn’t
feel.”
Ariza did, however, mange to take a painful lesson out of the
tragedy.
“I realized that life is really short, and you have to
take advantage of everything you get and not take it for granted.
Just do everything to your maximum, to your fullest
potential.”
In one of their last moments together, Tajh watched Ariza
shooting hoops. It was only when McClary and Ariza’s mother,
former Miss Universe candidate Lolita Ariza, separated soon after
the death and Trevor moved out to California with Lolita that he
began playing organized basketball.
Ariza ended up winning two state titles at Westchester High
School in Los Angeles, where he played all five positions and
averaged nearly a triple-double per game during his senior year. He
clearly had potential.
Recruiters across the nation came calling, and Ariza leaned
toward attending Florida at first, but ultimately chose to stay
home. Then he watched as UCLA suffered through a 10-19 season, the
Bruins’ worst over in a half century.
“They weren’t happy out there on the court,”
Ariza said. “That was their problem. I just thought next year
when I come here, this can’t happen.”
Following the season, Steve Lavin was fired, and Ariza anxiously
awaited the hiring of a new coach. After Ben Howland got the job,
Howland told Ariza that nothing other than a scholarship would be
promised to him.
“That’s honesty,” Ariza said. “If
you’re going to be honest with me, I’m going to be
honest with you and play hard.”
So he did, playing in pickup games over the summer with the
likes of NBA stars Kobe Bryant and Kevin Garnett, and then leading
UCLA in scoring and rebounding in the pre-season.
Even after missing the first three games of the season due to a
collapsed lung, Ariza has become the team’s second-leading
scorer with 13.7 points per game. In the Pac-10 opener against
Oregon State, he scored 20 of his career-high 24 points in the
second half, leading a come-from-behind victory with a flurry of
dunks and 3-pointers and prompting the UCLA student section to
chant his name.
Ariza is athletic enough to take the opening tip-off, run the
break, go baseline, and dunk over defenders. Changing the game
without the ball also comes naturally to the freshman who
doesn’t play like one.
“He automatically makes people want to cut,” forward
T.J. Cummings said. “You know he’s going to see you.
You know if you move and you find an open spot, Trevor’s
going to find you.”
Ariza also does the dirty work, currently ranking as one of the
conference’s leaders in steals and rebounding, which he notes
as his best skill.
What’s scary about Ariza is that he has yet to even
develop a consistent jump shot and at the same time remains a
tweener at 6-foot-7 and 194 pounds.
“He’s got to put on 20 pounds before he’ll
really be close to reaching his potential,” said Howland, who
prefers bulkier, Big East-type frames. “He has no fat on that
body. For fat people like me, I’m jealous, but for a
basketball player, he needs to get a little beefier.
“He’s got a bright future ahead of him.”
With a rare combination of size and skill to build on, the
sky’s the limit. It’s also from where he happens to
draw his strength so that he can realize his potential.
“My brother’s watching over me,” Ariza said.
“He’s praying for me.”