Don’t look now, but the sky may soon be falling.

There’s no need to call me Chicken Little, but I’m sure that most who prefer a lighter shade of blue will call me chicken.  I’ll be honest, when the thought first crossed my mind, I questioned my own manhood.  Thankfully, my self belief has returned, but the thought has stayed the same:

J.J. Redick really is that good.

You don’t understand how hard that is for me to say.  As one who truly has been Tar Heel born and bred, I have been fully indoctrinated into understanding the ways of the Axis of Evil that is the University of New Jersey at Durham - I mean, Duke – basketball. 

Mention Danny Ferry and I’ll get queasy.  Talk about the legend of Laettner and I’ll take a page out his book and stomp you on the chest.  Every March when CBS bombards me with “The Shot” and Thomas Hill crying like a schoolgirl, it takes every ounce of patience and some controlled breathing to keep me from going postal on the television screen itself.

And don’t even get me started on the Emperor of the Evil Empire – Coach K himself.  It’s enough to know that he, along with his trusty American Express card, will someday blow right past Dean Smith’s all-time wins record.  But to watch in horror as he profanely bullies every referee, player and coach in his way – all while maintaining a profile as an ethical pillar of the profession – why, it’s almost too much to bear.  Alas, that’s another story for another day.      

Redick is the latest in a long line of Duke hero-villains, yet he has inspired the passions of fans on both sides of the Duke divide like no other player since Sir Christian of the early 90’s.  To the denizens of Durham, Redick is the perfect embodiment of America’s finest college basketball program.  He’s smart, savvy, and supremely confident – traits shared by many of his peers at the University.  The Cameron Crazies revel in his masterful shooting and with every long distance bomb, Redick’s reputation inches closer and closer to demigod status.

Yet, for those who can’t stand Coach K and his cronies, Redick is everything they hate about Duke all wrapped up in one.  He’s cunning, not smart; an over-hyped byproduct of the Duke system who is destined to become just another of Krzyzewski’s “suits”, joining the likes of Wojo and Collins on the Duke bench.  He’s the master of deception, able to play yo-yo with referees and claim innocence at all times, while at the same time talking more trash than anyone this side of Gary Payton. 

In reality, the real J.J. Redick probably lies somewhere in between these two extremes, as is so often the case in today’s hyperbolized world of sports.  But don’t try to tell that to Carolina fans.  Given the choice of running over the family dog with a minivan or singing the praises of J.J., more than a few Tar Heel backers wouldn’t hesitate to ask for the keys.  I know – it’s sick.  But it’s the world we live in.

I remember the first time I saw Redick play.  It was the spring of 2002 and I tuned in to watch the McDonald’s All-American game, live from Madison Square Garden.  It was my sophomore year at UNC and I had just survived the 8-20 debacle of a season that remains the black spot of Carolina basketball.  The game was supposed to showcase the triumvirate of talent recruited to return UNC to glory – Sean May, Rashad McCants, and Raymond Felton. 

While the boys didn’t disappoint, a pale kid from Virginia named J.J. Redick stole the show.  Looking more like your high school lab partner than an All-American basketball star, Redick made 5 of his first 6 three point attempts en route to 26 points and game MVP honors.  It was an awesome display of shooting, albeit in a game that featured little to no defense.  With his brazen arrogance and shocking ability, Redick made quite the first impression: it was hate at first sight.

During his first few years in the ACC, Redick continued to showcase the skill to hit long range shots from just about anywhere on the court.  There were times when he went absolutely bonkers on the court, like when he scored 23 of his 30 points in final ten minutes of the ACC championship game his freshman year.  Still, he was a one-trick pony in my book.  No logical mind could argue about his sublime touch from long range.  But make him drive the lane and he was sure to turn it over or toss up crazy shots in the futile hope of getting fouled.

Redick’s ball handling was suspect and the toil of a long season spent moving off screens to get open looks seemed to drain his legs of energy just in time for a March meltdown each of his first three years.  The sole consolation for me as a fan is that for all of Redick’s made shots, I can’t remember a meaningful game-winner that wasn’t from the charity stripe.

Yet the 2006 version of J.J. is far and away the most complete we’ve ever seen.  Most will point to his 27.8 points per game and tell you that he’s the best player in the country.  While I won’t argue with the conclusion, it’s the other parts of Redick’s game that have made the most improvement and, in turn, have taken him to another level. 

His mid range game still consists of pump fakes and a propensity to look for the foul.  But, hey, if I could hit 9 of 10 from the line, I’d look for the foul too.  With defenders forced to respect the outside shot, Redick has learned how to effectively use the drive to get easy looks near the basket.  With defenders almost always in his face, Redick seems faster than he is, and has improved his finishing near the hole.  His passing is sufficient, while hardly Bird-esque, but like everything about his game, it’s made better due to his ability to shoot.

And boy can he shoot.  You can spare me the statistics about how Redick’s free throw percentage is at an all-time low or how he only scores so much because he takes a boatload of shots.  All I know is that every time he shoots the ball, I and the rest of America, expect it to go in.  Period.  With all apologies to Adam Morrison, no one in the country makes more shots against better competition than J.J. Redick.  After scoring 17 points while being draped by Jackie Manuel in the 1^st half of last year’s epic season finale against UNC, J.J. was held scoreless in the second stanza.  At the time, I chalked it up to good defense winning out.  Now, I’m not so sure we didn’t just get lucky.

When you see a stat line like Redick had against Virginia last weekend you just drop you jaw in amazement: 40 points, 8-10 from three, 3-3 from two point range, 10-11 from the line.  40 points, 13 shots.  That’s an absolutely insane 3.07 points per shot.  To put it in perspective, Kobe Bryant took 46 shots to get to his equally amazing 81 points, a ratio of 1.76 points per shot.  Redick’s effiency as he scores points in spades is mindblowing.

Now before every Carolina fan across the country comes to my house to tar and feather me, let me ensure you that I haven’t completely sold out from my light blue roots.  Every Redick three pointer is still a dagger to my heart, and his on-court demeanor is hardly bearable and certainly not admirable.  For Redick, like Machiavelli, the end justifies the means. 

Let’s just hope that in this case, the end doesn’t occur in Indianapolis and involve Redick and a pair of scissors.  If it does, we may never live down his legacy.

Zack is a 2004 graduate of the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill.  Currently, he’s a cubicle jockey who helps start-up companies in the Research Triangle Park area of North Carolina.  You can reach him at zack.mansfield@atomicsportsmedia.com