It's Not A Lone Star State

After watching Branyan play in a junior-college tournament, Dowd called Lemons and said, "Picture a guy who can't jump, can't run and shoots funny. Now picture him with 24 points, 17 rebounds and the Most Valuable Player trophy in the championship game."

Lemons was overjoyed—until he actually saw Branyan himself the next fall. As is his custom, Branyan was in poor shape when he showed up for preseason workouts, and he was anything but impressive on the practice floor. When he got a chance to play, Lemons says, "People were aghast." However, by the second conference game Branyan was a starter, and he finished the year with respectable averages of 12.8 points and 5.7 rebounds. "If Tyrone could jump up and spin around twice and then score," says Lemons, "everybody would ooh and aah. But he isn't that kind of player. He's exceeded my expectations by about a million."

The oddest thing about Branyan is the way he shoots his jump shot—off his chest. The best thing about him is the way his teams always win. He led El Dorado High in Placentia, Calif. to two CIF Southern Section titles, and he paced Cypress to the state junior-college championship. With all of this in his favor, he was not completely overlooked by recruiters. Cal State-Fullerton wanted him, and several black colleges contacted him, apparently because his name seems so, well, soulful.

Unlike Branyan, Woods received letters from just about every school. No wonder. He was good enough to win the MVP award in two of the biggest schoolboy all-star games, the McDonald's Capital Classic in Washington and the Big Brothers Classic in Houston. He was also on the gold-medal-winning South team at the National Sports Festival. He finally decided to stay home and be an Aggie, turning down, he claims, some eye-popping offers in the process. "I didn't want to feel owned," he says. "A few schools made it clear that if I came I would be 'taken care of,' but I didn't want that. That's not how I was brought up. I have goals and values that make me different."

It took a while for Woods to show what all the fuss had been about. When the Aggies knocked off Indiana, Las Vegas, USF and Kentucky in late November and December, they were led by sophomore forwards Vernon Smith and Rynn Wright. Woods didn't score in double figures in any of those games. But since the conference season began, he has emerged as the team's leading scorer and rebounder and a proficient shot blocker. "Early in the year he looked like a high school player," says teammate David Britton. "Now he's an intimidator."

Woods has the right attitude for that role; he considers the area around the basket as his private domain. When a Houston guard tried to penetrate all the way to the hoop last Saturday, Woods not only blocked the shot but he also wagged his finger at the intruder. "A guard is only supposed to do that if I'm not looking," he said. "He should give me more respect."

Respect is something Branyan has learned to live without. Instead of reveling in his success, he questions it, scoffing at the suggestion that he or his team is anything special. "It's hard for me to think we're as good as the top teams," he says. "I guess I still look up to those people, because I never thought I could play with them."

Whether he thinks so or not, it is clear that he can. He just needed more time than Woods did to prove it.