So when U-21 team head coach Phil Martelli made Davis shoot an end-of-the-day free throw in Friday's workout -- with a 10-pushup penalty for his practice squad, should he miss -- Davis grabbed a ball, walked to the line alone and with all eyes on him, stopped. He said, "Wait, where's Kentucky at?" and turned and pointed at UK coach Tubby Smith, who was sitting on the sideline and said, "This is two for you, coach!"

With much of the camp laughing, Davis calmly knocked down the shot, then ran over to Smith, offering him a handshake and saying again, "That's for you, coach!"

When Brady arrived Saturday, he had already caught wind of the exchange, and smiled as Davis retold the story. The conversation between coach and player quickly turned to the task at hand, however, with Davis saying, "Man, it would be nice to go to Argentina and compete for that gold medal."

Davis should get his chance. The Big Baby may be less bulky, but he's still plenty hungry -- only this time around, the appetite is for something he can't devour.

Inside The Trials, Part II

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• Buy stock in Withers. The Charlotte forward was -- at least from my view in the stands -- the most dominant player in the first three days of camp, and should be on everyone's preseason All-America lists in the winter.

• Darius Washington was hounded all of last season by the question of whether he would actually work out as Memphis' point guard, and although he may make the U-21 roster, he is still very much a work in progress. He got the job done with his scoring, hitting two long, key 3s as the shot clock expired in scrimmages, but is still far more turnover-prone than the other three points in camp: UConn's Marcus Williams, Kentucky's Rajon Rondo and Oregon's Aaron Brooks.

• A passing drill Martelli put in at the camp Saturday evening required players to yell the name of the teammate to whom they were throwing the ball, resulting in a cacophony of the best in college basketball. Shouts of, "A-Ray! Curtis! J-Gray! J.J.! Rondo!" and others echoed around an empty Moody Coliseum at Southern Methodist University.

• Boston College will be crashing the ACC in the fall, and Jared Dudley was giving Duke's J.J. Redick a crash course on the Eagles while walking off the floor Saturday -- on, of all things, BC's penchant for technical fouls. I overheard Dudley saying, "Yeah, I think we led the nation in Ts last year -- mostly for slapping the board, or hanging on the rim, though."

• My old Northwestern U friend and Dallas resident David (who's not an avid college hoops fan) stopped by Moody Coliseum for a few minutes to say hello during one of the sessions. His first reaction to the team trials -- which he text-messaged to me while looking on from one of the arena's doorways -- was, "Who's 'ol 66?" Sixty-six, if you don't recall from above, is Davis. Even non-fans seem to love the Big Baby.

• With the same friend, I stumbled upon a strange, strange band in Dallas' Deep Ellum neighborhood late Friday night. We were sitting on the back patio of Club Dada when, shortly after midnight, a young guy dressed in a ridiculous, almost Borat-esque getup -- an ugly yellow dress shirt, narrow dress pants and a trilby-style hat, with aviators and a fake moustache -- began setting up equipment on the stage. He was joined by a guy in a white suitcoat and another fake moustache; if this wasn't good, it at least was going to be amusing. Inside we went.

They proceeded to play -- with the suited guy mostly on synthesizer, and the hatted guy mostly on guitar, both periodically making awkwardly rigid dance moves -- a riveting set. It was a little over an hour of composed synth beats and riffs, overlaid by great guitar play, often sounding like a series of retro TV instrumentals and Middle Eastern pop sounds reworked into innovative jams. At one point, the synth began speaking the lyrics to Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb in an Apple TextEdit voice (think Radiohead's Fitter Happier from OK Computer) over an electronic adaptation of the song, and then the guitarist proceeded to rip off a rote version of David Gilmour's famous solo. Neither of the band members said a word during the whole performance, adding to the oddity of it all. I don't think a single person who was in the bar at the time the duo started, left until it was over. I learned later that the band was named Professional Juice, and that the guitarist, just in his mid-20s, had managed to return to the stage after being treated in the past year for Hodgkin's lymphoma.  

Get well, fake-moustachioed man, and great show; it was best thing I saw in Dallas. That is, other than the basketball (which I'm obliged to say, for the sake of my job).

Luke Winn covers college sports for SI.com.