The Rookie: Michael Carter-Williams

The Orange went on a post-season tear, reaching the Big East tourney finals and the NCAA Final Four, largely thanks to Carter-Williams’s explosive play. His stock soared, and at the NBA draft three months later, word spread that Philadelphia had traded its All-Star guard, Jrue Holiday, for Noel, Carter-Williams’s old AAU teammate. Moments later, Carter-Williams became a Sixer.

For Carter-Williams and his family, it was just the beginning. Mandy made sure her boy would land softly in his new town. She found him an apartment, furnished it, stocked his fridge, turned on the cable television and put his name on the utilities—all the little hassles that make moving stressful and that many rookies overlook. (Noel was stunned when he saw his buddy’s well-appointed pad. “How did you get all this?” he asked. By comparison, Noel’s TV was displayed on a cardboard box.) Mandy took him car-shopping, where Carter-Williams picked out a Benz, but a sensible one (a sedan, on a two-year lease). She introduced him to accountants and financial advisers, who set up a trust fund; he’s not touching his $4.5 million salary for at least two years, instead living off endorsements from Nike and Panini trading cards. Zegarowski did his part by leaving the rest of the family to move in with his stepson in Bala Cynwyd. “If there was a one percent chance he’d be better this way, it’s worth it,” Zegarowski says. “He doesn’t empty the dishwasher. His bills are paid. I’m his alarm clock. All Michael has to do is worry about basketball.”

Carter-Williams’s work ethic and his parents’ support came together in October, at the Sixers’ season opener against the defending champion Miami Heat. The rookie was calm on his biggest stage yet and in the face of James, whose linebacker bulk would keep wiser foes away from the paint. This is perhaps the only parallel between Carter-Williams’s young career and Iverson’s at the same point—the fearlessness in his game, the hunger for the big moment. But unlike the Answer, Carter-Williams doesn’t have a posse; there are no hangers-on. His mom and dad—his Cru Thik—watched as their son led the Sixers to one of the most improbable victories in franchise history. Along with joy, Mandy Carter-Zegarowski felt relief. “Before the game, I was like, don’t get hurt, don’t get dunked on, don’t be on the wrong end of an ESPN highlight reel,” she recalls telling him, and laughs. “Michael clearly had other ideas.”

THE NIGHT AFTER our Dave & Buster’s showdown, I’m watching from press row as Carter-Williams leads the Sixers to a hard-fought win against the Orlando Magic, tallying his first triple-double in the process—all on a banged-up knee that will later send him to the hospital. That’s the one bit of bad luck he’s had lately, especially when you consider how all the chips have fallen since his trying times at Syracuse. Carter-Williams’s drive and his family’s support led him to the draft, where the kid who desperately wants minutes was picked by a rebuilding team with no point guard and no expectations. He played in front of bigger crowds at the Carrier Dome than he sees in South Philly; he’s dealt with controversy and handled a hungrier basketball culture than the one he faces here. In the real world, the protective cocoon his family has built around him would seem extreme. In the NBA, where some rookies don’t even have bank accounts for their five-figure checks, it’s responsible parenting.

In the locker room afterward, he’s the last player out of the showers. The press is waiting to ask him about tonight’s matchup with fellow rookie-of-the-year front runner Victor Oladipo of the Magic.

“This is a team game,” Carter-Williams says coolly. “It’s not me vs. Oladipo. It’s Sixers vs. Orlando … I just wanted to get the win.”

Earlier that day, his mom anticipated that this would be the story line of the evening. She sent her son a text, saying reporters would turn the contest into a battle between the two guards. “The press will make this about you vs. Oladipo,” she said. “Don’t let it be. Focus on the team game.”

When the media scrum breaks, I approach. He’s wearing a t-shirt and warm-up pants and looks appropriately exhausted.

“Any truth to the rumor,” I say, “that your first triple-double was sparked by your Skee-Ball performance?”

Carter-Williams laughs. “That will have to be a ritual.”

I ask him how it feels to post numbers like the ones he put up tonight.

“I won’t forget it,” he says, adding that all he cares about is the final score. “As my stepfather says, stats are for losers.”