'Horns lost Durant, but Augustin can carry them far

Texas guard D.J. Augustin became a more vocal and effective leader over the offseason, thanks to some pickup games against a famous UT alum. AP

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AUSTIN, Texas -- It's 45 minutes after last Thursday's practice, Boston College-Virginia Tech football is on the training-room TV -- no one in this college sports cocoon, apparently, is interested in Game 2 of the World Series -- and Longhorns guards D.J. Augustin and A.J. Abrams are caught up in their own banter. Augustin is in the hot tub, doing some preventative maintenance for the season ahead, in which he will no longer be Wooden Award winner Kevin Durant's sidekick but rather the team's unquestioned leader. Abrams, Texas' biggest three-point threat, is dangling a foot in the cold tub; he has been relegated to the sidelines because of a nagging toe injury. The topic of discussion is which NBA players they prefer to study on DVD film edits.

"D.J., cover your ears," says Abrams, knowing full well this won't happen. He turns to me and says, in addition to a Dee Brown and Chris Paul tape, "I have some A.I. footage."

Augustin takes this as his cue to chime in: "A.J. loves Allen Iverson. If you ever get in touch with Allen Iverson, let him know that A.J. loves him."

Augustin proceeds to claim -- despite Abrams' vehement protests -- that both the arm sleeve and leg tattoo Abrams sports are Iverson tributes, calling him "Little Allen." This is the real Augustin, not the quiet, serious kid we saw on the floor last season, when he averaged 14.4 points and 6.7 assists as the 'Horns finished 25-10. Behind closed doors he is an instigator. Assistant coach Ken McDonald, in a pop-culture reference that's lost on the current team, has taken to calling Augustin "Eddie Haskell."

Abrams waits until Augustin's rant is complete, then fires back. "What kind of shoes were you wearing today?"

After a beat of silence, Abrams answers his own question. "Steve Nash shoes!"

"They ordered those shoes for me!" Augustin protests half-heartedly. "I didn't ask for them! My foot was giving me problems, and these feel good, so I'm going to keep wearing them."

Abrams, unsatisfied with that reply, says, "You've seen D.J.'s game, all the shots he's been taking. When he comes in [to the gym], we say, 'Steve Nash is here!'"

When Augustin's development as a point guard is discussed among Texas coaches or players, two NBA floor generals are inevitably mentioned. The first is Nash. Augustin wasn't the only collegian to attend Nike's Steve Nash Skills Academy in July -- UCLA's Darren Collison, Duke's Greg Paulus, Michigan State's Drew Neitzel and Kansas' Mario Chalmers were there, among others -- but the 6-foot, 180-pound Longhorn might be the most Nash-obsessed.

Texas coach Rick Barnes, who last year re-fashioned his offense into a wide-open, Suns-esque attack to feature Durant and Augustin, has had Augustin watching Phoenix Suns footage since he arrived on campus. He watches to see how Nash creates space for his shot. He studies how Nash dictates the speed of the game rather than letting a defense dictate it for him. He takes note of how Nash dribbles less when he gets closer to the basket, to speed up his approach.

Augustin showed a few flashes of Nash in last Thursday's practice. Assistant Russell Springman had told me to look out for Augustin using the step-back moves and one-legged, push-back shots Nash has trademarked; indeed, these were on display. Augustin says he didn't really converse with Nash at the camp -- "I was just star-struck" -- but he has the emulation thing down.

The second NBA point guard with ties to Augustin is someone with whom he has a more interactive relationship: former Longhorn and current Toronto Raptor T.J. Ford. This summer, Ford and fellow pro Royal Ivey returned to campus to take classes and train. Ford had been communicating with Augustin via phone and text messages since late last season, but their pick-up battles from June are stuff of legend around the Texas camp. "[Augustin] and T.J. would go at it," says forward Damion James. "We'd be playing five-on-five, and T.J. would pick him up full court, talk noise to him, push him around. By the middle of the summer, D.J. wasn't backing down at all; he brought it to him every day and it helped, because D.J. improved so much."

Ford's impact on Augustin was mostly vocal; Augustin's muted leadership style, the loquacious Ford told him, wasn't going to cut it anymore -- he needed to start acting like a coach. Says Barnes, "When T.J. left after a month, our players will tell you, D.J. totally changed."

With Ford's voice no longer permeating the gym, Augustin started filling the void, and the sound of him directing traffic is a constant during Texas practices. Barnes said that last season there was really only one person on the floor talking: "Me." That's no longer the case.

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