Curry seeks superstar days once again

You know all the reasons why Ronald Curry's never going to make it.

You know the anemic three passing touchdowns and barely 100 yards per game in the air, the 10 picks he threw in just six games last season, the disgusting 3-8 record the Tar Heels-Ronald Curry's Tar Heels-put up last season, never mind that it wasn't his fault.

You know the brash attitude, the mouth rumbling and flairing like a Harley-the same mouth that told Virginia yes then told Virginia no, the same mouth that made him public enemy No. 1 in an entire state.

You know everything about him and you know exactly why his MVP career is DOA.

But the truth is, you don't know the first thing about Ronald Curry.

You don't know about the operating table in the offseason, the cold surgeons standing around with cold instruments and delicately trying to reconstruct a shredded right Achilles'.

To you they were just doctors, to Ronald Curry they might as well have been the Greek fates, scissors perched on the thin tissue of his Achilles, one clip in the wrong place and they wouldn't have just cut the tendon of his foot, they would've cut his lifeline.

There were days after the surgery when Ronald Curry really got to know what it was to hurt. He thought he knew pain on the football field, but Ron Curry got to know he hadn't ever seen pain.

It was his name you supposed to know, not the other neighborhood kid from Hampton who went on to sign with a local school, just some local school, while Curry flirted with the Cavaliers and FSU and eventually signed with the bright lights of North Carolina.

When everybody still knew Michael Vick as, "Ookie," Curry was already The Man.

C-U-R-R-Y, Ronald, Ron if you prefer but never to his face, that was the name you were gonna know. It was his Sugar Bowl, his face staring out at you from the newsstands asking to bring the world on, because he hadn't seen nothing yet. It was his national championship shot, his Heisman.

In short, it was his world.

He beat high-flying L.A. Clipper Corey Maggette in basketball, he bested Vick in football.

And in two short years, it all might just as well have added Babe the Blue Ox to his high school stories, because everbody knew damned well that the Ronald Curry of Hampton High School never existed.

His world crumbled. That you know.

You don't know why.

He debuted as a true freshman, a rarity among quarterbacks. He started the season fifth on the depth chart of a top 25 team coming off a fifth straight bowl game. When the Tar Heels reached their seventh, Curry was No. 1.

An injury to starter Oscar Davenport pushed him into the spotlight, 304 passing yards against Stanford stole it, and a 74 yards rushing exhibition against Georgia Tech made it his.

For good measure, he took the Most Valuable Offensive Player award in Carolina's 20-13 Las Vegas Bowl win over San Diego State, just in case you forgot who was running the show.

"Oscar got hurt," Curry says, "I saw that as an opportunity. Just getting on the field was an accomplishment for me."

As a sophomore, it wasn't just the team that was his, it was the field.

Nobody could stop Curry, but as injuries popped up like a sudden summer thunderstorm, everybody had a little better shot.

When it started with Brandon Spoon, the first-team All-ACC linebacker that even Dick Butkus himself would have trouble bringing down, the Tar Heels should've known they were in for a long season.

Players dropped on all sides for the Tar Heels, but Curry kept moving along.

The system was new and his supporting cast kept changing. He made bad reads, tossed his share of interceptions and lost a little of the golden-boy luster.

But when you get down to it, he kept up the same impossible numbers.

Even after his season ended in the fifth game, less than halfway through the season, he still led the UNC offense in total yards with 904. The next closest players? They only put up 838 yards-combined.

Florida State defensive coordinator Mickey Andrews called him a "souped-up motorcycle," but he missed the analogy, in college football, Ronald Curry is a lethal weapon.

"He really he was the best I've seen [in recruiting]," Florida State coach Bobby Bowden said. "I mean punt returns, kickoff returns, run the ball, throw the ball. As soon as Curry can get the supporting cast Vick has-Vick had a tremendous supporting cast last year. Number one-what would he do? I think pretty much the same thing."

Fully recovered from the surgery, and maybe even stronger, it's all back to square one-hitting the field and getting the job done.

"The first game will be the test," All-ACC linebacker and teammate Brandon Spoon told Sports Illustrated. "But even if Ronald is only halfway healthy, he can do things other people can't."

Like make you believe that he's not a flash-in-the-pan high school coulda been story, that he's not just a running back with a low number and make you believe that junior Ron Curry's career is still all about promise.

Yeah, you know all the reasons Ronald Curry's never going to make it.

Now come up with a real one.