Growing up in Jackson, Miss., and even now in his fifth season with the Warriors, in Monta Ellis’ mind, there was never a second option if he failed to make a living playing basketball.

“It’s scary to say, but the honest-to-God’s truth, if I wasn’t a good enough baller, I’d probably be dead or in jail,” the NBA’s fourth-leading scorer said recently in a telephone interview following practice.

Selling himself ominously short, Ellis perceives basketball to be a life-saver, his exclusive escape hatch from Georgetown Community’s seedy streets — drugs, stealing, killing, gangs, guns, armed robbery and every other scourge plaguing his neighborhood.

“My area was one of Jackson’s worst and my high school [Lanier] was in the center,” Ellis said. “Sad to say, other than basketball, I had nothing else to stop me from getting caught up in it.”

That’s decidedly debatable.

Right away during our 40-minute conversation, it became clear Ellis grew up wealthy with family values and healthy objectives. He understood earlier than most what he ultimately desired — a loving, stable home like the one he was raised in by his mom’s parents.

Mary and Jimmy Ellis started having kids — seven girls and a boy — when they weren’t that far removed from the age of reason. When the infant Monta came into their life, it was like having another son.

“They were a tremendous influence on me,” Monta said. “They’d seen it all. They told me about the violence and the dogs and the burning buildings downtown and what a disaster it was when the Freedom Riders came through Jackson 50 years ago (May 25)” from Birmingham and Montgomery.

“They taught me how life is a cycle and how it repeats itself, and prepared me in case it happens again.”

Monta feels people don’t understand racism continues to be openly brandished today in some parts of Mississippi.

“The Klan still burns the cross on buildings. I’ve seen it.”

During a high school tournament in Oxford, Monta said things got so racially uncomfortable in a restaurant his team had to leave. Another time he got lost trying to find a cabin that belonged to a white teammate near a town outside Jackson and ran into the wrong people.

“I was called n-this and n-that and warned if I didn’t haul ass in a hurry they were gonna kill me.”

“I’ve seen a lot — and I know how it goes,” Monta said. “And I did what I did.”

“What was the worst thing you did?” I wondered.

“I knew you were going to ask that,” he replied mischievously. “Playing with my granddaddy’s gun in the house. My aunty came in and caught me before I pulled the trigger.

“What were you pointing it at?

“The mirror.”

Was it loaded?

“Yeah. I always played with guns. I just got caught this time. My granddaddy had at least 18 of ’em. He had ten labs and every Saturday he hunted deer, rabbit, squirrels, wild life of all kinds. I played with bullets, too. I’d bust the back of ’em with a hammer.”

Monta remained with his grandparents through the ninth grade. He was 15 when he moved in with his mom, Rosa, who has two other sons. At the time she patrolled the Jackson Lane prison facility, escorting inmates to jail. That’s when Monta began to focus fully on what was most important to him — balling and hanging with family, excluding his dad.

Marcellus Singleton has been a police officer in Houston for 35 years. “To this day,” Monta said when asked why he never came around, “I have not gotten an answer to that. But it made me build myself into a better person and a better father to my son.”

Monta Jr. is a year old and his sister is due May 11. Little wonder that the mother of the two children was an out-of-uniform Memphis police officer when Monta met Juanika. They married last summer.

“She stood out and caught my eye. I approached her. She had no idea what I did. She’s beautiful and keeps me grounded.”

Just when I thought Monta had credited everybody deserving of an assist for making his life complete, he crossed me over. If it weren’t for his older brother, Monta claimed “I wouldn’t be here” . . . and the most prominent member of the last crop of ten high school players (drafted No. 40 in 2005), who went directly to the pros . . . or be averaging 25.7 points.

Seems Antawn, 30, should have been the first to make a name for the Ellis family in the NBA.

“Picture a 6-8, 215-pound guy with my game,” said the 6-3, 175-pounder. “He was like LeBron. His senior year he averaged 25 points, 12 rebounds and nine assists. He played positions one through five. Where he went, I went, and I’d play with the younger guys, He taught me a lot.”

The most critical lesson learned: “I made sure I took the opposite route. I didn’t want to make the same mistakes. Antawn got mixed up with drugs and a bad crowd. One night someone either laced his blunt or dropped a mickey in his cup and he went sideways. It was all downhill from there.”

Antawn’s OK now, but Monta says his brother is aware of what he threw away. “He doesn’t talk about it much, but I catch him wondering and thinking what could’ve been. He stayed with me for a couple months last year. One night we came home from the game and he muttered, ‘That shoulda been me.’ ”

As I was about to thank Monta for being so candid and giving me so much substance, I asked him how his younger brother is doing. I presumed Lamarcus, 21, is studying how to emulate his success.

“Nope,” Monta said. “He’s caught up in the street life. Nobody tricked him or forced him to adopt that style; he chose it. I don’t understand why but he did, and he has to live with it. I help him as much as possible, but he figures he don’t need to do the right thing. I pray for him. I love him as a brother. But it’s not looking like it should be.”

Why wouldn’t Lamarcus want the life Monta chose?

“He was playing football and could’ve gone anywhere, but he’s the type of person who figures I made it so we made it. Hey, it says Monta Ellis on my contract, not Monta and family. I told him to go to school but he dropped out in the 12th grade. I don’t mind helping, but I worked too hard and it comes too hard to give, give, give when you’re not doing what you should be doing. I love him to death, but . . .

“I’m going to blow my money on me and not anybody else, and I don’t’ blow much money on me, because it’s not about me anymore. It’s about my wife and children. I already started a college fund for son and will do the same for my daughter. If I quit basketball right now they’re pretty much set for life. But I want to continue doing what I’m doing until I have to retire. So you have to manage your money. I’ve been on both sides, been on the mob side and that was cool for a minute. But I love this side!

“I have no complaints, no distractions. Everything is in order. I love married life. I stay out of the way. I stay at home with my son; show him a better way than his dad had. I love being a father figure. That’s the great thing about kids; you can mold ’em. They turn out the way you teach them. That’s the great thing about being a parent.

“I was out there on the street for a while, but it’s a boring and lonely life. My grandparents are married 46 years. They’re growing old together and seeing their grand kids grow and have kids. I always pictured my life the way it is now. Now it’s time for me to get old. It’s gonna happen. You can’t slow it down. I didn’t make a bad decision. I love the decision I made.”

peter.vecsey@nypost.com



