He is tall enough now that he must duck under the door frame to enter his bedroom and mature enough to seek the pressure of playing for the most prominent college basketball program in the country.

But once a week, when Michael Gilchrist needs comfort, he watches “The Lion King.”

The DVD is already in the console, always ready. All he has to do is press play. He first watched the movie with his father when he was a baby, and they would watch it together nearly every day until he was almost 3.

But since the moment that changed his life 14 years ago today, Gilchrist has had to watch the movie alone. He sees Simba, the young lion, cry out after the death of his father. And each time he does, the best high school basketball player in the country sees somebody else.

He sees himself.

Gilchrist still struggles to speak about his father, a former standout at Camden High who veered off course toward the end of his life, without being overcome by emotions. He is told frequently how much he looks like him — the deep eyes, the oval face, the striking smile — and how similarly they play basketball.

The younger Gilchrist, a rising senior at St. Patrick High in Elizabeth, is hailed by scouts for the way he devours rebounds and hammers down dunks, his long limbs like willow tree branches. He has already verbally committed to Kentucky.

But less is known about Gilchrist’s inspiration. The brief, eyes-closed pause before each free throw, the jersey number draped over his body, even the date on which he announced his college decision — they are all tributes to his father, who died Aug. 11, 1996, from multiple gunshots wounds on the streets of Camden.

“Everywhere he went, I went,” Gilchrist wrote, preferring to answer questions pertaining to his father through e-mail. “He was a great father. I can’t explain how much I miss him. I just want to make him proud.”

• • •

When Gilchrist first started playing basketball, he described his play as “kind of soft.” Playing in the South Jersey suburbs, he had yet to discover how to harness the aggression he had within. He was often the tallest player on the floor, gangly and uncoordinated and did little more than reach over opponents for rebounds. Moreover, he had yet to find a coach who urged him to develop his ball-handling and shooting touch.

That began to change in middle school when he started playing with the RBK All-Stars, an AAU team based in West Philadelphia. The team’s coach, Paul Gripper, invited Gilchrist to Sunday pickup games in a decaying gym on the corner of 63rd and Spruce streets, where roughly 80 of the city’s best players regularly competed.

Even at age 12, and against the older players, Gilchrist elevated his play and dominated the games, Gripper said. His coach remembers the one day a Gilchrist-led squad won 10 games in a row and stayed on the floor the entire afternoon, with Gilchrist blocking an estimated 100 shots.

“He was a natural competitor,” Gripper said. “... Practices (in West Philadelphia) are vicious. We never call a foul. I never call a foul. And Michael had the same attitude. He caught right on. He was like a sponge.”

For high school, Gilchrist selected St. Patrick, a nationally-renowned program, commuting 77 miles north from his home in Somerdale in Camden County. He had five turnovers in his first varsity game as a freshman, but was a starter by season’s end.

The next year, as a sophomore, Gilchrist guided St. Patrick to the Tournament of Champions title and was named Gatorade Player of the Year despite playing in a lineup that included upperclassmen who would play in college for North Carolina, Duke and George Mason.

“He’s a warrior,” said Tom Konchalski, the editor and publisher of the national recruiting newsletter HSBI Report. “I don’t think anyone has the motor he has, or competes as consistently as he does. He’s certainly one of the better forwards from the East Coast in the last decade.”

Gilchrist was the top-rated junior in the country in 2009-2010, although some recruiting services ranked him as the top overall prospect regardless of class. This summer, after averaging 15 points and 7.3 rebounds for the gold medal-winning U.S. team at the World Championships, Gilchrist was rated the best player in the country by nearly every major recruiting service.

Many scouts rave about Gilchrist’s abilty to play at the fastest speed on every possession, with equal effort on offense and defense. Those who knew the elder Michael Gilchrist say he played basketball the same way.

The younger Gilchrist paid homage to his father by choosing Kentucky on April 14, on what would have been his father’s 44th birthday.

“Michael’s father will always be a piece of him,” said Gilchrist’s mother, Cindy Richardson. “It’s just unfortunate he’s not here to be able to share in this.”

• • •

As a senior at Camden High in 1983-1984, the elder Michael Gilchrist helped lead the basketball team to a state championship and a 31-0 record — the first undefeated season under legendary coach Clarence Turner. At 6-4 and with the physique of a strong safety, Gilchrist could seamlessly slide from the guard position to center when needed.

“He was a tough kid and an excellent teammate,” said Kevin Walls, who played at Camden with Michael Gilchrist. “... But before being teammates, Mike was just a great person. If he was alive today his son would be even more proud. … I miss him.”

The elder Gilchrist went on to Benedict College in South Carolina to play basketball, but left school before the season started. He married Cindy on Jan. 2, 1988 and spent three years in the Army.

The couple returned to New Jersey in 1991, and he worked as a medical technician at Cooper University Hospital in Camden.

Soon after, he began using drugs occasionally, according to a 2004 story published in the Courier-Post of Cherry Hill. Cindy, extensively quoted in the article, declined further comment on her husband’s missteps.

The couple’s only son was born in 1993, but the frequency of the elder Gilchrist’s drug use increased and he lost his job at Cooper in May 1996, according to the story.

He was killed that summer around 2 a.m. at 135 N. Dudley St. in East Camden, according to Jason Laughlin, the spokesman for the prosecutor’s office in Camden County. The police investigation concluded Gilchrist was shot while he was inside a 1995 Hyundai Elantra; he was then pushed out of the car and to the street and the car was taken.

No one has been charged with the homicide; the case remains open.

“We had a very hard time finding witnesses on this case,” Laughlin said. “There wasn’t a lot to go on when it happened initially.”

Now that the younger Gilchrist is nationally known, the family has been reluctant to speak about the elder Gilchrist’s death.

“Even though my husband was doing drugs and stuff at the time, he was, like, crazy-obsessed with our son,” Cindy told the Courier-Post. “And I don’t care what he was doing or where he was … he would always be home by the time Michael woke up.

“And when Michael woke up … he was like, ‘Daddy’s not here.’”

• • •

Pieces of his father’s life and death have filtered out as Gilchrist grew older. His family members frequently tell stories of his father’s love for basketball, and his mother shares with her son the expectations and dreams she and his father had discussed before his death.

Gilchrist can still recall his father tucking him in each night — including the last time.

“I still think about my father every day,” Gilchrist wrote. “I have so many people in my life that share stories about my father and how much he loved the game. When I step on (the) court, I always felt that he was there.”

Each time Gilchrist toes the foul line, he closes his eyes for five seconds and thinks about his father. He also wears jersey No. 31 — the number his father donned in high school.

“Sometimes he might be like, ‘I miss my dad,’” said Gilchrist’s stepsister, Latasha Richardson. “It’s always going to be on your mind. I just tell him to pray about it. I tell him, ‘If you can’t talk to him because he’s not here, then talk to him in your prayers.’”

Gilchrist is fiercely close with his family. His mother remarried to Vincent Richardson, whom Gilchrist calls “dad.” The family bought Gilchrist a laptop so they can Skype when he’s traveling for games, and they speak on the phone every day when Gilchrist is away. Gilchrist has found another father figure in Vincent, who, shortly after they were introduced, frequently shot hoops with him in the backyard and rode skateboards and bikes alongside him through the neighborhood. The two love nothing more than to race go-karts against each other at a track in Lancaster, Pa., and then devour one-pound cheeseburgers from Fuddruckers on the way home.

“He’s done everything for me,” Gilchrist said. “I just love him.”

No matter the accomplishments, Gilchrist thinks of his family — his mother, sister and dad, as well as the father he hasn’t seen since Aug. 11, 1996.

“Michael is his father and his dad all in one,” Cindy said. “That’s a love we’ll always carry with us in our hearts. Michael will always keep those memories very much alive.”



Matthew Stanmyre: mstanmyre@starledger.com





