7-foot-5 center tries to live up to height
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TOPEKA, Kan. - The Cadillac has always been labeled the premier luxury car. Roomy. Spacious. Comfortable.
There is one family, however, finding nothing roomy, spacious or comfortable about its 1991 burgundy model. Not when the primary backseat passenger is Daniel Gilchrist, one of the largest boys ever to play high-school basketball in Kansas.
Gilchrist, a senior at Topeka High, stands 7 feet 5 and weighs 330 pounds.
"I've learned Cadillacs ain't that roomy," said a smiling Jim Gilchrist, Daniel's father. "Sure, they look big. I thought it was a limousine at first, but it's not."
The same could be said about Daniel Gilchrist on the basketball court. Sure, he looks big. You think he's a limousine of a big man at first, but that's not necessarily the case.
He averages only 6.8 points a game, occasionally cracks the starting lineup and gets more than his share of time on the bench.
"When I'm in a bad mood, I just want to tell (critics) that it's hard," Gilchrist said, raising his usually low voice. "I wish people could spend a day being my height and weighing as much as I do. Then maybe they would understand. Then I don't think they would criticize me."
Then maybe Gilchrist wouldn't constantly hear sentences that begin with "If I was your height, I would ... "
Believe it or not, being taller than 7 feet and weighing more than 300 pounds doesn't make just anyone Shaquille O'Neal.
"Everybody expects me to go out and score 20 points, grab 11 rebounds and dunk the ball every time." Gilchrist said. "But it's not that easy."
Gilchrist, 18, has played organized basketball for six years. The game is still new. He's still young. Topeka High coaches say Gilchrist had no hair on his legs last year. He now sports a Bill Waltonlike beard and shaggy hairdo.
"He's grown so much, and his basketball skills have yet to catch up," assistant coach Pat Denney said. "He's still growing into that massive body. Basketball is not easy for someone 7-5. Basketball is not easy for anybody."
Gilchrist plays only in certain situations. Head coach Mike Henson uses him when the action is slow-paced. An example was a game against Junction City. Gilchrist scored four points - two dunks - and blocked two shots in about 10 minutes. Junction City is an up-tempo team that turns Gilchrist into a non-factor.
"He has a lot of work to do," Henson said. "It's just going to take some time. He has to learn to use that body on the court."
Something Gilchrist has been doing off the court his entire life.
Fitting in
Squeezing into cars is one of many daily obstacles Gilchrist faces that are routine for most people. He ducks through every doorway. A phone call is made to the airline before making a flight reservation - Gilchrist needs the emergency exit seats. He wears tennis shoes to church. He sleeps on an 8-foot bed. Ever see sheets for an 8-foot bed? Probably not, so his mother, Shirley, sews two together.
"I used to sleep on a 7-foot bed, but we went to J.C. Penney's, and they said they had one," Gilchrist said. "It was great. Finally, my feet weren't hanging off the bed."
Last summer his parents provided more gifts: They hired a plumber to raise the shower head, sink and mirror in the bathroom.
"His face just lit up when he saw it," Shirley Gilchrist said. "He would have to bend so far over to brush his teeth."
But it's not until Gilchrist leaves the car, airplane or theater that his height really starts to bother him.
In public he becomes a sideshow attraction. Step right up, folks, look at the guy who can grab the rim without jumping. Marvel over his hands that could probably palm a disco mirrored ball.
People stare in amazement everywhere he goes. The grocery store. The mall. At school.
Three years ago, the family visited New York. Shirley told Daniel not to worry about standing out. This is New York, she thought. Home of the subway-rider, battery-throwing baseball fans, angry cab drivers. Different is normal there.
"I told Daniel, `One of the nicest things about New York is that nobody will notice you,' " Shirley said. `There are so many people and everything is strange.' "
Shirley was wrong. Daniel signed autographs for a few New Yorkers, took some pictures and even gave out his mailing address to those who wanted to pass the information along to coaches.
While Gilchrist never complains of these moments - a group of girls once lined up in Canada for photos - he tries to avoid attention by simply staying away from the public. He'll often send his parents into a store to buy something.
"I think I have a sixth sense because I can just tell when people are looking at me," Gilchrist said. "There are some days when I don't like (being tall). Especially on a bad day, when I'm getting too many stares.
"I don't know about forever. But if there was a way I could be a normal height for a month or even a year, I'd want to do it."
Big man on campus
Gilchrist's height shouldn't have come as a shock. Pops is 6-8 and mom 6-1. His older brother, Brendan, stands 6-5, and sister, Erin, is a 6-2 center at Western State (Colo.) College.
What did come as a shock was his first day at Topeka High. The Gilchrists home-schooled all their children through the eighth grade. So imagine Daniel - whose only classmates were his brother and sister - entering one of the largest high schools in the state, with an enrollment of more than 2,200 students.
It sounds like the typical little-fish-in-a-big-pond story. Only it wasn't. Gilchrist, in this case, was a whale among minnows in the water. He stood 7-1 as a freshman.
"I remember the first day he came and everybody was just shocked," Topeka guard Tremel Guillory said. "People were asking, `How tall are you, and are you a teacher?' All the girls were staring at him, and everybody just kept measuring themselves next to him."
The attention overwhelmed Gilchrist at first, but he grew to enjoy it. It was "cool" being the most popular kid in school. He ran for student government that year. Gilchrist was the last candidate to walk across the auditorium stage and received a standing ovation. He won the election.
"After people got to know me a little bit, they realized that I was just another human being," Gilchrist said.
Gilchrist became one of the most well-liked students in the school. He is an active member in STRAP, an organization against all types of violence. But even the mild-mannered Gilchrist had one scuffle. Two years ago, another student decided to pick a fight. After missing on the first swing, the student stepped back, jumped and aimed for Gilchrist's face.
Gilchrist laughs about the memory and prefers not to talk too much about this unfortunate incident.
"It was just something that happened," he said.
Steady improvement
Denny will never forget the first time he saw Gilchrist.
Four years ago, the team was playing in Manhattan. Gilchrist tripped while walking up the steps before the game and Denny thought, "So this is our future."
Denny, now, offers nothing but praise for Gilchrist's desire to improve.
"He's just improved every year," Denny said. "He's doing things that he couldn't do last year."
Guillory said, "You have to realize where he's come from, and then you can judge him."
Gilchrist scored a career-high 18 points - including six dunks - this season against Washburn Rural. His best game came Jan. 23 against Topeka Seaman, when he scored 13 points and grabbed 11 rebounds.
Mobility is one area where Gilchrist has yet to improve. Picture Godzilla trying to get back on defense, and that's Gilchrist. Surgery last year for a chipped bone in his knee and the removal of an umbilical cyst have been partly to blame.
Still, scouts from Kentucky and Syracuse have watched him solely because of his height. Miami, Cincinnati, Wichita State, Kansas State and several junior colleges have also shown interest.
At first, going away to college seemed great. Then Gilchrist realized the showers, sinks and mirrors would again be standard size. He also thought about those dormitory room beds.
"I never thought of that," he said. "Aw, man. I better get ready to pack my bed up."