Russell Robinson walked down the hallway at Allen Fieldhouse before practice three weeks ago, a KU cap snug on his head and Jayhawk warm-ups covering his body. He was draped in blue and red except for the pink and green can he sipped from in his right hand.

The drink? Arizona Iced Tea, a staple for New York City basketball players.

“Those cans are so big and only cost a dollar,” Robinson said. “When you’re in the park and you’re thirsty, it doesn’t cost a lot and gives you a lot of juice.”

That’s Russell Robinson. No matter how Kansas he is, he’ll always have a part of New York City with him.

Robinson spent most of his childhood living in Harlem and the Bronx, where he fell in love with the hectic pace of city life, where his parents sheltered him from the sometimes-violent streets and where he learned to play basketball with an unquestioned toughness.

Living in New York gave Robinson an edge, a streak of willpower that prevented him from giving up after a rocky transition as a freshman and made him who he is today, a senior on the verge of graduating and leading his team on what he hopes is a successful NCAA Tournament run while at the same preparing for his next phase in life, whether it takes him back to New York or to the other side of the world.

Life in the city

The rap and Latin music started playing early, sometimes just after dawn.

It sounded through the morning air in harmony with the almost nonstop honking of cars from the Grand Concourse up to Robinson’s room in his mom’s Bronx apartment. Outside that window, he could see the zooming cars, delis, bodegas, a McDonalds, other high-rise apartments and of course, people — tons of people, on top of each other.

“As crowded as it was,” Robinson said, “I felt like I had my own space. It was a big borough. I knew a lot of people and at one point a lot of people knew me.”

This is how Robinson liked it. He lived in Harlem until he was nine, before his dad, Russell Robinson Sr., moved first to Texas and then to North Carolina for sergeant duty in the military. Robinson, whose parents divorced when he was nine, tagged along with Russell Sr. because his parents thought the fresh air might clear his asthma. The open space relaxed Robinson, but he preferred the congestion.

By junior high, he was asthma-free and back in the city. Russell Sr. and Theresa Robinson, his mother, each moved into Bronx apartments, and Robinson split time between their homes.

He loved the action of New York. Robinson shopped for clothes at Sammy’s and other stores along Fordham Road, balled at Rucker Park or any of the best playgrounds in the five boroughs, dined with his mom at Stefan’s or spent a quiet day at the Museum of Natural History. Sometimes, Robinson even visited the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State building or other tourist attractions.

“I love the fact there’s always something to do,” he said. “Busy, busy, busy, busy. I like hustle and bustle. I like having to do this at this time. You have everything right there at your fingertips.

“I love it.”

It didn’t have to be that way. Robinson and his family lived at 129th Street in Harlem until he turned nine. Gunshots often rang at night. Drug dealers and winos sometimes gathered on nearby sidewalks.

Theresa and Russell Sr. kept Robinson away from the madness back then by keeping him busy. Monday through Friday meant school, followed by time with a baby sitter or at the YMCA while Theresa and Russell Sr. worked. Weekends included basketball, art classes, church and other family activities.

“I was almost overprotective,” Theresa said. “It was just about being really involved with what he was doing and keeping him busy and organized.”

The violence and drugs rarely infiltrated Theresa and Russell Sr.’s middle-class Bronx neighborhoods, but surrounding areas weren’t as safe. Russell Sr. can’t remember his son ever getting into trouble, but trouble never lingered too far away.

Shortly after Robinson returned to New York as a seventh grader, he heard about the drug-related arrest of a ninth-grade friend.

“An undercover cop,” Robinson said. “It was like straight out of a movie.”

His friend was caught up in a drug business that was tied to murders, and he landed a 21-year prison sentence.

“He was a good kid,” Robinson said. “He just wanted to make money and be cool.”

That was the exception for Robinson’s friends. He surrounded himself with classmates who wanted to go to college and stay away from the negative influences of the city. They went to movies, hung out at people’s houses and played basketball on the weekends, instead of spending time on the street or at dangerous clubs.

Robinson knew about the other side but stayed distracted from it.

“Living in a city with eight million people,” Russell Sr. said, “you kind of get an edge. Living in that city gives you an edge to survive because you’re going up against obstacles every day.”

Basketball was everything

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The leather ball would bounce against the floor for hours in the Robinson household.

Robinson started dribbling a little Spalding basketball before he even entered kindergarten. When he didn’t carry around his basketball, he played with a football. He tried dribbling it, too.

Robinson dabbled in art to emulate his older brother, Quentin, but Theresa could tell that sports meant the world to him. She started taking Robinson to the park next to Harlem Hospital, where she worked as the assistant to the director, and would watch him out her window.

As Robinson got older, he went to the playgrounds more often, playing “all day, every day.” The hoops Mecca that is New York gave Robinson the opportunity to play almost anywhere, anytime, and against the best competition. He’d travel with his Amateur Athletic Union team, the Gauchos, from playground to playground, gym to gym, across the different boroughs on weekends in junior high and high school. They’d compete until they lost and move on, playing at least four games of serious basketball on those days.

“The other kids would want to fight him in the tournaments on the street,” Theresa said. “You had to be tough.”

Robinson’s game progressed further at Rice High School, a Christian Brothers school in Central Harlem, where he earned a full scholarship. He started on varsity as a freshman at Rice, something almost unheard of at a New York City high school. The city’s only other freshman starter that year was Lincoln’s Sebastian Telfair, who later became the first point guard to enter the NBA Draft out of high school.

In Robinson’s second season, his team got the better of Telfair’s. Rice defeated Lincoln in the state semifinal and then won state. His Gauchos AAU team also won two national titles.

Much of Robinson’s success stemmed from the “edge” his father talked about. Few players brought as much toughness as Robinson. He even played in the post his first two years at Rice.

“I was 6-1 and played like I was 6-5,” Robinson said. “You have to find a way to stand out and mine was being tougher than everybody else.”

The banging took its toll on Robinson’s body. He broke both ankles and both wrists and suffered chronic shin splints.

But pain never bothered Robinson. Russell Sr. found that out one summer day.

An elbow popped into Robinson’s mouth in an AAU game at the New Jersey Boy’s Club. Blood squirted from his gums and streamed onto the court in red splotches.

Russell Sr. ran from the bleachers to check on his son.

“Hey,” Russell Sr. told him, “let’s go to the doctor.”

Robinson wouldn’t even consider leaving. He played the rest of the game, and his team won. His father finally convinced him to get stitches afterwards.

More than five years later, Russell Sr. still calls it a “wow” moment.

“He played drinking his own blood,” Russell Sr. said.

The toughness attracted college recruiters. Robinson seemed destined for a Big East or ACC school until he met Norm Roberts, then a KU assistant coach. Roberts’ New York ties made Robinson feel comfortable with the idea of going to Kansas.

Roberts felt the same connection and liked Robinson more every time he saw him play. His last two years of high school, Robinson was a gunner who averaged 22 points a game, but Roberts also saw defense and unselfishness. One game, Roberts said Robinson got 15 steals.

“The bigger the game,” Roberts said, “the better he played. He just got more focused.”

Robinson signed with the Jayhawks in November of his senior year. After Roberts left to become coach at St. John’s, Robinson honored his commitment. He was going to move far from his New York haven to a foreign place, Lawrence.

Growing pains

Two weeks after Robinson got settled into his Jayhawker Towers apartment freshman year, he called his dad with an urgent message. Robinson told him to send a package of belongings from his room at home. Shoes. Clothes. Posters. Pictures. Basketball trophies. If something reminded Robinson of his hometown, he wanted it.

“I was basically trying to bring New York here,” Robinson said.

Lawrence just wasn’t the Bronx. The nearby shops and malls didn’t fit Robinson’s fashion tastes. He didn’t like the restaurants and couldn’t understand why so many people ate sushi. The laid-back pace didn’t suit Robinson like the hustle and bustle of New York did.

His teammates seemed like they were from another planet, too. They went out on weekends, something Robinson rarely did back home. Where he grew up, basketball dominated nearly every part of life.

“I remember feeling left out,” Robinson said. “I was used to having everything at my fingertips when I wanted it.”

Homesickness worsened when Robinson’s successful start to the season turned sour. A turnover problem moved Robinson from first guard off the bench to seldom-used reserve. He didn’t play in nearly half the games the final two months of the year.

Robinson stayed at his apartment and played video games most weekends, and didn’t communicate often with teammates. He didn’t even like to call home because it made him miss New York even more. Theresa tried to encourage him by sending him poems. Nothing worked.

“It was hard to connect with him,” senior guard Jeremy Case said. “He didn’t really say a whole lot. Because he was homesick, he kind of kept to himself and talked on the phone a lot.”

After the season, rumors swirled that Robinson might transfer. His minutes had dropped, and his good friend and roommate Alex Galindo had already left the team. Self had helped recruit him the year before, but Robinson said he didn’t quite relate to Self early on like he did to Roberts.

Robinson could’ve given up and listened to friends who wanted him to transfer to a Big East school closer to home. He said he never even considered it.

“I chose KU for a reason,” Robinson said. “Even though I was maybe upset at the time or disappointed, I still came here. I wanted to be here. I didn’t want to be known as a quitter. I wanted to prove it to myself and my family that I could stay here.”

That summer Robinson didn’t return to New York once. He worked out every day and added 15 pounds of muscle. Lawrence became his home, too. Robinson started opening up to teammates and coaches, going out more and enjoying Lawrence food, even sushi.

The next season, Robinson became a leader for a starting lineup that included three freshmen. The past three years, he’s started every game except two, developed a reputation as one of the best defensive guards in the country and helped lead the team to three straight Big 12 regular season and two straight postseason titles.

“He had a chance to pout and quit,” Self said, “but he got tougher and harder. He’ll go down as one of my favorites to coach because I think Russell views his play on one thing: wins and losses. ... We can all say that, but are we willing to sacrifice to give us the best chance? I think Russell really is one of those guys.”

The skinny boy from the Bronx who missed home and couldn’t get off the bench is now two months away from graduating with a degree in communications, three victories away from another Big 12 Tournament title and a solid NCAA Tournament run away from a possible Final Four. What seemed like a nightmare three years ago is now a dream.

“The toughness that he learned from New York, that you have to make it and not give up,” Theresa said, “that’s how he persevered.”

Ready to move on

People tell Robinson all the time that he should be a coach.

His dad. KU coaches. Friends. Rice High School coach Maurice Hicks. They all think he’d be a natural. Robinson’s not so sure.

“Coaching makes you crazy if you ask me,” he said.

Robinson will have to decide quickly what he wants to do after his Jayhawk career ends. More than likely, his future will include professional basketball of some kind. Robinson intends to play somewhere, even if he has to go overseas. An NBA executive, who insisted on anonymity, said Robinson’s NBA stock could vary depending on Kansas’ postseason run. He liked Robinson’s toughness and strength but wondered if he had enough talent to make it in the league.

After basketball, Robinson talked about being a sports agent or an entrepreneur. Theresa and Russell Sr. think their son might try teaching kids in the inner city.

“He really loves kids,” Theresa said, “and he likes to set examples, so I know he could be a good role model. He could show them how to achieve and not give up.”

Really, Robinson has just one preference for his future.

“Whatever I do, I want to find my way back to New York,” Robinson said. “I kind of feel like there’s no place like New York. It’s going to be hard to stay away from that city.”

— Edited by Patrick De Oliveira