Banks’ drive has game in high gear

Friday, March 7, 2003 | 10:07 a.m.

UNLV senior point guard Marcus Banks began battling the moment he was born, three months premature and weighing 1 pound, 12 ounces, and the delivering doctor had somber news for Sabrina Banks.

There was "no way," he said, her second child would make it.

That was the first mistake someone made about Marcus Banks.

Since spending the first six months of his life in an incubator at Sunrise Hospital, he hasn't required, or desired, much attention. He hated being fed from a bottle as much as he disliked being held or cradled as an infant.

"He never wanted you to sit and hold him," said Sabrina Banks. "He never wanted us to pamper him. It's like he came into the world a little man. To this day, he's tough. He really is. He never gives up."

In the preseason, on a scale of 1-10, Banks gauged the pain factor of a hairline fracture between the ball of his left foot and big toe at 9. After a recent practice, he updated that figure.

"Twelve."

Banks hides it well with his game face. Arthur Banks first saw that in his son when he passionately banged away on pots and pans, sitting inside a kitchen cabinet, before his first birthday.

"He's got his game face on now, that tunnel vision," said the senior Banks. "Sometimes, the light at the end of the tunnel seems dark. But you do the hard work, leave it out on the floor and then you'll see the light at the end of the tunnel. That's where he is right now."

Fiercely private and often quiet, Marcus Banks makes no time for chitchat. Even his mother acknowledged that he plays as if he's carrying every burden in the world, and that the world is against him.

As he prepared for his final regular season home game Saturday afternoon, against San Diego State at the Thomas & Mack Center, Banks confirmed that he relishes carrying so much of the Rebels' load.

Because of attrition, injury and spotty play around him, it was apparent early this season that UNLV would soar or sink depending on how Banks performed. Rebels coach Charlie Spoonhour gave his floor general a green light to do as he pleased long ago.

Banks, 21, is not concerned how badly a novice fan might misinterpret his actions, as if he were selfish.

"I couldn't care less what anybody thinks," Banks said. "We're here together, as a team. If it were that easy, (the critics) would be out here doing it themselves. And I don't owe anybody an explanation about how I have to play this game.

"This is my life. This is what I do, and it's what I'll continue to do down the line. So, I mean, you win some and you lose some."

His serious nature produces a physical style. A poor guard from Tennessee-Martin nearly broke both ankles when Banks flashed his ultra-quick double-crossover move on the perimeter, and he does not shy away from taking the ball inside on anyone.

He's second in the Mountain West Conference with 20.6 points a game, and his averages of 5.4 assists and 2.9 steals lead the league.

"I play 40 minutes a game," he said. "Obviously, I'm in there for some reason."

A computer guru recently established Banks as the second-most effective point guard in the country, ahead of Maryland's Steve Blake, Duke's Chris Duhon, Oregon's Luke Ridnour and Arizona's Jason Gardner.

Not bad for someone who barely registered a top-20 blip in preseason magazines that ranked the top floor generals in the land. Twenty years after Banks defied medical odds, outsiders continue to misjudge his resolve.

A scouting director of an NBA Western Conference team expects Banks to excel in individual workouts in April and May, and a rough consensus of scouts who have passed through the Mack this season pegged Banks as a second-round pick in the next draft.

Sabrina Banks wishes her late mother, ardent UNLV fan Annie B. Peoples Gammage, could have seen her grandson's last two seasons. When Marcus is down, he will listen to the O'Jays, Nat King Cole and Isaac Hayes -- Gammage's favorite music -- for inspiration.

Gammage died in 1992.

But Banks' drive and determination trickle down from his grandfather, Arthur Banks Sr., who moved to Las Vegas from Monroe, La. In 1949, Arthur Sr. acquired a gig at the El Rancho Vegas and soon became the lead porter at that property.

In 1967, at the Carousel Casino, Arthur Sr. became the first black "21" dealer in Las Vegas. He moved on to the Pussycat-A-Go-Go Casino, the Thunderbird, Circus-Circus and then the Flamingo Hilton, where he worked until retiring.

Arthur Jr. vividly remembers sitting next to his father in the family car as his father steered it around to the rear of the Flamingo, where his mother changed into and out of her serving uniform in a bamboo hut.

Segregation barred blacks from entering through the front door of the main casinos, and the Moulin Rouge was the only establishment that provided entertainment for black patrons.

"It was part of that era," said Arthur Jr. "I've been there. I remember it well. It's what Marcus stems from. It's a very focused, great foundation, from his grandparents."

Arthur Sr. even taught former UNLV players Bobby Florence and Toby Houston how to deal blackjack 30 years ago, when pro careers didn't pan out for them.

Senior stood 6-feet-3 and weighed 270 pounds, and he once knocked Sonny Liston down in a sparring session at The Thunderbird. Senior also laid down strict rules for Arthur Jr., Marcus's father.

When Arthur Jr. came home from classes at Western High, he was not allowed to go back for football practice until the lawn was mowed, the car washed and the garbage taken out.

"When he told you to do something, that's the way you did it," said Arthur Jr. "I guess a little bit of that rubbed off on me. He rubbed it off on me, and I rubbed it off on Marcus."

Marcus wasn't allowed to hit the parks until he completed his homework, tended to the lawn and vacuumed the carpet. There were consequences if he waited until after the street lights came on to return home, but he couldn't stop playing basketball.

In the fraternity of Las Vegas playground legends, Marcus Banks is a pillar.

When he graduates this spring with a bachelor's degree in sociology, he will be the first among his family in Las Vegas to earn a four-year degree.

"My thing was to be a professional football player. Education was second," said Arthur Jr., a casino host at Caesars Palace. "I had the cart before the horse. With Marcus, he has it in the right order."

Spoonhour kept Banks from slipping away to Louisville or Kentucky out of Dixie College. Sabrina served fried catfish and tasty collard greens when Spoonhour made his home visit.

Plenty rode on Banks's decision. Spoonhour, the Rebels' new coach, knew he needed to clean up UNLV's image, and what better way to do that than with a no-nonsense sparkplug from Cimarron-Memorial High who only knows fifth gear?

For Banks, he knew the last local to start at UNLV from his first day on campus was Greg Anthony, in 1988.

"It's something I always wanted to do since I was a kid, play for UNLV," Banks said. "But when everything hit the fan, everyone ran. 'I don't want any part of that.' It was weird."

Not as weird as the trepidation that Spoonhour showed at the dinner, though. Finally, Arthur Jr. broke the ice by telling Spoonhour that if he wanted Marcus, look at him in the eye and tell him so.

Spoonhour did, and Marcus committed on the spot.

"I saw how serious he was about it," Banks said. "It was a win-or-die situation, right there. If I had said 'No,' then it was all for nothing. He felt relieved after that. Ever since then, we've been like best friends."

Over the course of two seasons, Banks and Spoonhour have sniped at each other regularly. Neither one, though, lets anything linger, and they're just as quick to pat each other on the behind and joke with each other.

Banks is the best point guard Spoonhour has had in his 18-year career, better than Winston Garland was at Southwest Missouri State or Las Vegan H Waldman at Saint Louis.

"He listens pretty well," Spoonhour said. "He's supposed to have some ideas of his own, too. That's what I want. I put a lot of faith in him."

Will it translate into a big victory against San Diego State, a sweet run in the Mountain West tournament here next weekend and then a spot in the NCAA tournament? Marcus Banks can't answer those questions.

He only knows he can go home and look at his father in the eye, confident that he hasn't cheated himself.

"Don't half-step what you're doing, that's what my dad has always said," Banks said. "He goes to work every day and tells me, 'You know what? I bust my tail every day at work, and that's why people love me.' Know what?

"I'm out here on the floor, and I feel the same way."

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