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HE STILL GROANS WHENEVER his phone rings. If he had his way,he'd never answer
it again. You're better off texting him, or just going to find him at his
home away from home -- the gym. Sometimes he's at Allen Fieldhouse three
times a day, for the sole purpose of self-preservation. He's in there
shooting, lifting and running with only two things on his mind: his little
sister and a tree.

The sister, 8-year-old Jayla, is an aspiring pianist with a smile that could
light up 15 city blocks. He just wishes he'd see it more. As for the tree,
it's barely six weeks old and stands inconspicuously outside the fieldhouse,
feeding off the autumn mist and growing day by day.

He stops and inspects it every time he's walking to the arena sometimes he'll
stay for 10 minutes, lost in his thoughts, his hopes and dreams. When the
campus gardeners planted the tree in October, he wrote a letter and buried it
with the roots. If what he wrote in that letter comes true, Jayla will be set
for life. If it doesn't, it won't be because he didn't try.

"EARL! EARL! Come up in this kitchen right now and learn to cook, Earl!"

Lisa Robinson had a son to raise, and because life is unpredictable, she was
always preparing him for emergencies. Maybe she'd have to work late
babysitting mentally disabled children, or maybe her chronic high blood
pressure would incapacitate her for a day. Someone would have to cook,
someone would have to take care of his baby sister. That's why Lisa was
always hollering for Earl.

His full name is Thomas Earl Robinson, and while everyone else in southeast
Washington, D.C., called him Thomas or T-Rob, Lisa always summoned him by his
middle name. Earl was her "yeah, you heard me" name, the one that made Thomas
come running. She was the only one allowed to call him that, because to him,
Earl sounded like an old man's name. And he never wanted to be older than his
years.

Besides, being Thomas was getting him attention on the basketball court. As a
young teenager, he was raw offensively, but coaches have a soft spot for kids
who can run all day and live to rebound. By 2008,Thomas' junior year at
Riverdale Baptist High School in Upper Marlboro, Md., the college scouts were
lurking. Before his senior year -- and now with a build of a Greek god -- he
transferred to higher-profile Brewster Academy in Wolfeboro, N.H., and the
buzz was that he was among the top 30 or 40 players in the nation.

Kansas coach Bill Self was already frothing. He had first seen Thomas in the
summer of 2008 at the Reebok All-American Camp in Philadelphia, and as much
as Self loves McDonald's All-Americans, he adores raw prospects with high
motors. "The thing I remembered is how hard he tried," Self says. "I said,
'Am I missing something in this kid? He looks better than everybody else
here.'"

Kansas started calling -- ahead of Memphis, Pitt and Kentucky -- but Lisa
wanted nothing to do with the Jayhawks' program. Kansas was too far away. She
was afraid of flying and didn't have enough money for an airline ticket
anyway. It was hard enough that her son was spending his senior year in New
Hampshire, so she was not having Kansas; she flat-out told Thomas she was
crossing the school off his list.

Lisa, a single mother, was a disciplinarian unafraid to grab her son by the
ear. Her mantra: Never blink. But Thomas also considered her his best friend;
they'd talk about everything -- girls, movies, even the father who had no
part in his life. So when it came to his college choice, he pleaded his case
and brought other family members into the discussion. The extended group
included his grandmother, Shirley Gladys White, who often babysat him; his
grandfather, Willatant Austin Sr., who loved hoops; and even his half
brother, Jamah, who was eight years older and lived on the other side of town.

Thomas told all of them that he thought Kansas basketball had a family feel.
And he told Lisa about Marcus and Markieff Morris, twins who were skilled big
men and could mentor him. Better yet, their mother, Angel, lived in Lawrence
and served as a second mom to just about every player. They all called her
Miss Angel.

Lisa agreed to a home visit in September 2008, though Self knew she remained
skeptical. The minute the coach walked in, she said, "So you're the man who's
been giving me headaches." But once they hugged and she sensed the coach's
sincerity, all was forgiven. Self was particularly taken with Jayla, who
grinned wide, asked her mom for a Jayhawk doll and wanted to see the apps on
the coach's iPhone. "Not a cuter girl out there than Jayla," says Self, who
loved her energy. Lisa fell for Self as well, and Thomas committed to Kansas
soon after.

Still, the day in 2009 when Thomas left DC for Lawrence was a melancholy one
for Lisa. After her son made it to campus, she called Angel Morris to
introduce herself and talk mother to mother. "Please make sure my baby is
doing okay," Lisa pleaded. "Can you check that he's not eating pizza every
night and that he's doing his work? Can you please take care of my baby Earl?"

A FULL SEASON LATER, Lisa still hadn't made it to the KU campus. So when the
Jayhawks were scheduled to play Memphis at Madison Square Garden on Dec. 7,
2010, Lisa and Jayla drove the five hours from DC. Before the game, Thomas
proudly introduced them to his teammates and their moms, and everyone noticed
how he doted on his baby sister. "He loves that little girl," says Jayhawks
guard Elijah Johnson, Thomas' roommate. "She's his world." Thomas had always
considered her his sidekick. Jayla was born in 2003, just as Jamah was moving
out; when Lisa was working, Jayla would have to tag along to Thomas'
basketball practices.

Twelve years older than Jayla, Thomas also saw himself as her protector. Lisa
gave him leeway to discipline Jayla, so when the girl showed up in New York
wearing multiple earrings, Thomas wagged his finger. "Why does Jayla have all
those earrings?" he asked Lisa. "They're too grown up for her. You need to
take the earrings off."

It was as if he were Jayla's dad. Her real father, James Paris (who is not
Thomas' dad), had recently finished serving a prison term for distribution of
a controlled substance. Lisa and Jayla had visited him in jail, but according
to family members, Paris had never played a consistent role in the girl's
life. Thomas had always been the male that Jayla depended on, a
responsibility he relished. So when Thomas said so, those earrings came off.

At the Garden, Lisa also visited with Angel and confided that she'd recently
found out her parents had little time to live. Both were being treated for
serious illnesses in a DC hospital. Lisa, who was stressed and experiencing
intense headaches, asked Angel not to tell Thomas. She wanted nothing to
disturb his basketball.

At that night's game, Thomas, a bruising forward and Self's kinetic sixth
man, was sensational. He had 10 points and 10 rebounds in 15 minutes, and
with Kansas comfortably ahead, he sat at the end of the bench so he could
quickly hug Lisa and kiss Jayla, who were seated nearby. "Having a good game
and seeing my mom happy was priceless," he says. After the 81-68 Kansas win,
he was first out of the locker room so the family would have more time to
visit before the team plane left for Lawrence. Angel took a photo of Lisa,
Jayla and Thomas embracing. She promised to send copies.

Seeing his mom and sister made Thomas miss them even more. He began spending
additional time with Miss Angel and the twins. Marcus and Markieff had heard
Lisa call Thomas "Earl" back in New York, and when they and some other
teammates jokingly said "Pass me the ball, Earl" at practice, Thomas just
stared back at them. "He had the best physique on the team," says Barry
Hinson, the Jayhawks' director of men's basketball operations. No one dared
call him Earl again. The name belonged to Lisa.


Nancy Newberry for ESPN The Magazine
Falling on basketball helped the Jayhawks star through his darkest days.
By late December, Thomas had settled back into his Lawrence routine. But
before practice one day, he noticed Lisa had been calling his cellphone. He
dialed her back and received the bad news: his grandmother had died. As
Thomas wept on the phone, Lisa, who faithfully read the Bible, assured him
that everything happens for a reason. When Self saw his player sobbing in the
gym, the coach urged him to take the day off. But Thomas insisted on
practicing. Never blink.

When he returned to DC for the funeral, Thomas was a rock for Lisa and Jayla
-- and hid his own emotions. Three weeks later, in the middle of January, the
phone rang again; this time his grandfather had died. "I'm thinking, This is
bad," Thomas says. "This shouldn't be happening. I'm not even over my
grandmother yet. Far from it. And now I get the call that my grandfather
passed."

Lisa told him not to fly in for the funeral. He had a season to play, and she
wanted to protect him. But she also didn't want Thomas to see what was
happening to her. After her mother died, Lisa's headaches and blood pressure
worsened, and when she arrived at the morgue with a friend, she needed help
getting out of the car. She was in physical pain at her mother's funeral,
some of which Thomas noticed, but Lisa never revealed to him that the doctors
subsequently found a clogged artery in her heart.

The only person Lisa told in Kansas was Angel, and after Thomas' grandfather
died, Angel began calling Lisa regularly. On Jan. 20, Angel phoned and could
hear Lisa fussing at Jayla in the background. A few weeks earlier, while
Jayla stayed with relatives, Lisa had undergone an angioplasty. She was
feeling a little better but was still suffering with intense headaches. Angel
sensed that Lisa was overwrought and urged her to go to the ER, but Lisa said
she had a new medication and wanted to try it out first.

The next night, Friday, Jan. 21, the Jayhawks players watched film in
preparation for a pivotal Big 12 home game against Texas. Afterward, around
11 p.m., the Morris twins recall they were kicking back in Thomas' room when
his cellphone rang. "It's from home, man," he said. "I hope it's not any more
bad news."

“
I'm thinking, This is bad. This shouldn't be happening. I'm not even over my
grandmother yet. Far from it. And now I get the call that my grandfather
passed.
”
-- KU power forward Thomas Robinson
"Pick it up," Markieff said.

"Forget it. I'm not answering."

Thomas let the call go to voice mail, then checked the message. It was from
Jayla; she was crying and begged Thomas to call her back.

He dialed Lisa's cellphone, but she didn't pick up. "Oh man, I don't know
what's going on," Marcus said. Thomas' eyes were watering, and the twins were
starting to tear up. He dialed his mom's home phone, and Jayla answered. She
told him that Lisa had had a heart attack. Their mother was dead.

Thomas dropped his phone, sobbing. In less than a month, he had lost both
maternal grandparents and his mother. The twins called Angel, who, when
hearing the news, yelled, "Oh my god." She immediately left for Thomas'
apartment and phoned Self on the way. The coach started weeping. "He was
crying, I was crying," Angel says. "I said, 'Coach, we gotta get ourselves
together. Because we both got to walk through that door and be there with
that kid.'"

They found Thomas slumped on his bed, surrounded by teammates. When Self
entered the bedroom, the players cleared, and the coach asked Thomas: "What
can I do to help? Is there anybody you need to talk to tonight?" Thomas had
been sobbing uncontrollably. But he stopped, dry-heaved and looked up at
Self. "Coach, you don't understand. I don't have anybody. All I have is my
sister. All I have is Jayla."

THE NEXT 12 HOURS were a blur. Thomas kept howling that Jayla needed to fly
to Lawrence and pleaded to Angel: "Just don't leave me. Can you stick with me
through the entire thing?" Self called the team doctor, who said to make sure
Thomas wasn't left alone. Angel brought him to guard Josh Selby's mother's
house, which was quieter; he didn't fall asleep until about 4 a.m. The other
players were up most of the night as well, with the Texas game only hours
away.

The team met that morning for its pregame shootaround, and out of the blue,
Thomas arrived in uniform. Self hadn't expected him to play, but Thomas
remembered how Lisa had always prepared him for emergencies, how she ordered
him to never blink. He found himself being pulled to Allen Fieldhouse, and
once he arrived, he asked Self if he could address the group.

"Nobody treat me different," he told the players and staff. "I don't want
anybody to baby me. Babying me is not going to help me get through. I don't
need the coaches not to yell at me. I'm a grown man."

When he finished, he was the only one not in tears. Self asked whether Thomas
wanted the PA announcer to ask for a moment of silence, but Thomas said he
couldn't endure it. Self reminded him that Lisa had never been to a home
game; this would be the way to finally get her there. Thomas agreed, and the
second he checked into the game, Allen Fieldhouse erupted. "It wasn't loud in
a fan way," Hinson says. "It was, if there is such a thing, loud in a loving
way. I looked around, and I mean grown men, ladies, kids, students, little
ones -- just tears."

The team played the first six and a half minutes on adrenaline, leading 18-3,
but finished the game on fumes. The Jayhawks' shots kept rimming out. In the
stands, Angel kept repeating three words: "Release the rims." Hearing her,
guard Tyshawn Taylor's mom, Jeanell, asked, "Who are you talking to?"

Angel replied: "Lisa. She's here."

But two hours later, the Jayhawks' 69-game home winning streak was over.
Hinson accompanied Thomas to DC, with Angel following the next day for the
funeral. Angel shielded Jayla as best she could, while Thomas and Jamah
picked out a casket and an outfit in which Lisa would be buried. Even more
difficult for Thomas was entering her apartment. He took her favorite
sweater, some photos and her Bible as mementos, but he quickly had to get out
of there. All Angel kept saying was, "Baby, it's going to be okay."

Out of necessity for Jayla, Thomas tried to remain a rock. The funeral --
paid for by KU, with the blessing of the NCAA -- was held during a snowstorm,
and the electricity was out for much of the gray afternoon. But for Thomas,
the day brightened a bit when the entire Kansas team walked, single file,
into the church. Afterward, the KU coaches watched Jayla cling to Thomas on
the way to the hearse, and one by one they began thinking the same thing:
We'll adopt her.

IT WASN'T JUST FOR SHOW. Bill and Cindy Self, who had raised a son and
daughter, were serious about gaining custody of Jayla. Assistant coaches
Danny Manning, Joe Dooley and Kurtis Townsend, as well as Hinson and Angel,
made similar inquiries. But that wasn't the half of it. Kansas fans around
the state were e-mailing and texting, offering to be Jayla's guardians. They
were also donating cash to a newly formed scholarship fund for her.

Still in a fog, Thomas was grateful. But he was the one who wanted custody,
even though he was living in the Jayhawker Towers apartments and had a full
load of classes. It didn't seem feasible that a 19-year-old basketball player
could raise a second-grader, which is why Self and his staff were willing to
step in. But up until Lisa's funeral, Thomas was still thinking of ways to
fly Jayla to Lawrence, still looking into area grammar schools. "He thinks
every day of his life, Jayla, Jayla, Jayla," Angel says.

What Thomas didn't expect was the fast bond Jayla was forging with her dad,
James Paris, back in DC. Perhaps Jayla was subconsciously gravitating to the
only parent she had left, but Thomas noticed Jayla latching on to James and
his three sisters. James implored Thomas to let Jayla stay with him. Rather
than uproot a brokenhearted little girl, Thomas gave his approval.

"I have a lot of mixed feelings about James," says Thomas. "But he loves his
daughter and she loves him, so that's something that I thought about, as far
as me wanting to take my little sister. She'd lost a lot, and all she knows
is me and him. So I couldn't be selfish. That's why she's home.

"It kills me. I pray the days go by fast sometimes, just so I can see her. I
wished that she could be with me here right by my side. But it wasn't the
best timing for it, you know?"

Thomas' uncle, Willatant Austin Jr., who had filed for custody of Jayla, took
Paris to court in the spring, claiming he was unfit to be a parent. (Lawyers
have advised both Paris and Austin not to comment.) For his part, Thomas just
wanted the legal haggling to stop. He was drawing up his own long-term plan
for Jayla, and he began implementing it on Jan. 29 against Kansas State, his
first game after Lisa's funeral. Coming off the bench to another tearful
ovation -- "I couldn't even look up," Hinson says, "because I'm bawling like
a baby with about 16,000 other people" -- Thomas was a beast. He scored 17
points, shooting 7-for-11, and in the stands Angel thanked Lisa for releasing
the rims. Thomas, then a sophomore, was the best player on the court,
including the twins, and there was one overriding reason: "My whole purpose
of playing basketball was different," Thomas says. "I don't care about the
points anymore. I don't care about the stats. I don't care about being the
man. This was just a stepping-stone for me to get where I have to go.

"I want Jayla with me. I want full responsibility for everything. And I was
in a position that if I took care of business with basketball, everything I
wanted for her could become possible."

His teammates could sense what was happening. At first, they had wrestled
with the deaths, wondering why a good kid would have to bury three relatives
in a month. But they would hear Thomas, quoting Lisa, say that everything
happens for a reason. They soon realized what that was: The deaths motivated
Thomas to become a star. He had to take care of Jayla.

The plan was delayed, if not derailed, last February when Thomas needed
surgery to repair a meniscus tear in his right knee. After coming back, he
didn't even score in KU's Elite Eight loss to Virginia Commonwealth. But that
just made him more determined.

Over the summer, Thomas was a workaholic. He wouldn't take a day off and was
the most electric player at the Amar'e Stoudemire Skills Academy, outplaying
even Ohio State's Jared Sullinger. "He has the speed of Kobe and a body like
LeBron's," Markieff says. "Sky's the limit."

When Thomas wasn't on the court, he was back in DC with Jayla or on the phone
with her. She'd begun asking when she could live with him. He'd tell her:
"Soon, baby. Soon." What he didn't tell her is that the minute he gets to the
NBA, he is going to request full custody and move her in with him.

“
He has the speed of Kobe and a body like LeBron's. Sky's the limit."
”
-- Phoenix Suns power forward Markieff Morris
"I would never say he needs to leave for the NBA," Self says, "but I hope
Thomas is able to leave. I hope this is his last year at the University of
Kansas. Selfishly I want him to stay. We would win more games. But it needs
to be his last year."

Now a 6'9", 237-pound junior, Thomas is no longer a sixth man. In a preseason
poll, he was voted first-team All-America by CBSSports.com. Some NBA scouts
are even predicting he could be the No. 1 overall pick in the next draft. In
the meantime, he lives part-time with Angel, who is fulfilling her promise to
Lisa and keeping an apartment in Lawrence, even though her twins were both
NBA lottery picks in June. Angel also flies regularly to DC to check on
Jayla, who, because of her scholarship fund, is attending private school and
learning piano. And on both Thomas' and Jayla's bedroom wall is the same
photograph -- the picture Angel took at Madison Square Garden of Lisa and the
two kids, hugging.

"I'm still scared for my little sister," Thomas says. "I cry and I complain
about how it's not fair for me, but she's going through way more. She's 8
years old. She ain't got the memories that I got with my mom. I just feel
like I can't stop. I got to do something to where I make her so happy that
she'll never have to go through any pain in her life ever. No more bad phone
calls. None of us can have any more bad phone calls."

Basketball and Jayla: That's about all Thomas thinks about. When Self
recently suggested planting a tree in memory of Lisa outside Allen
Fieldhouse, a place she never lived to see, Thomas thought it was the
quintessential idea. He and Self watched the gardeners dig the hole, and
Thomas placed his letter in with the roots. It reads:

Mom,
I guarantee you have no worries about Jayla.
I will make sure everything is okay. I won't blink.
My promise.

Love,
Earl

Tom Friend is a contributor to ESPN The Magazine.