This is the court where the 6-foot-3 senior guard set James Madison records for career assists, steals, games played and games started.
This is the building where he shaped his body - from a twiggy 165-pounder to a sturdy 190 - and honed his overall game for four years so those accomplishments would be possible.
This is the community where his true formative years painted who he is now and who he is to become. It's where he encountered the despair of losing a mother and the bliss of raising a daughter.
This is Harrisonburg, the city that developed into the Denver native's permanent home. This is where Pierre Curtis became, in his words, "JMU's son."
Curtis contemplates a career that is worthy to debate. His records, his 1,212 career points (so far) and his longevity place him as one of the most prominent men in program history. However, his team's four-year record of 53-74 - heading into what could be his final game this weekend - might tempt some observers to place him a few notches below JMU's elite.
Obviously, Curtis hopes to leave a favorable legacy, but that desire seems less one of ego than of hope that he has represented well a neighborhood he considers to have raised him.
"Hopefully, they remember me as a kid who put his all in everything he did," Curtis said. "I was playing hard, playing the right way.
"...I don't know if you say the records don't mean as much because my team is not winning, or do the records mean more because I didn't have that supporting cast around to help me?"
A supporting cast. Now that's the big thing in Curtis ' life.
Growing Up Here
The 23-year-old, by his account, has a small but tight circle of friends that includes his girlfriend of three years, Rashonda Roberson, assistant coach Louis Rowe, JMU women's basketball coach Kenny Brooks, academic counselor Rob Carson and Carson's wife, Jackie, an assistant on the women's team.
It's an exclusive club without well-defined roles - just support.
"I try to be there, I don't know if it's as a brother, I don't what type of component," Rowe said. "But I think he respects me and I respect him. I just want the best for him. If he told you that he was somebody who he leaned on, who he relied on, I would be proud."
Curtis ' circle shrunk when his mother, Carolyn Curtis -Rice, died in 2007 of complications from dialysis treatment for a kidney failure. Curtis never had much of a relationship with his distant father, but he considered his mother his "best friend."
Curtis -Rice got sick when Pierre was 10 years old. She moved from Chicago to Denver after researching for the best treatment facilities. Pierre moved to Denver shortly thereafter, when his grandmother died. Curtis -Rice would not let her health negatively affect her son, as she endured, and urged Pierre to go live his life.
"He didn't want to go away to school because he wanted to stay and take care of me," Curtis -Rice told the News-Record in February 2007, seven months before she died. "But I told him, 'That's an opportunity of a lifetime to go away to college. ...When you go away to college, that's when you get your life together priority-wise. Everybody doesn't get a chance to do that. Since he was a little boy, he wanted to play ball for college, and it's real important for me in life that he reach that goal."
Said Pierre last week: "She said that she would never pass until I was standing on my own feet and standing on my own. The summer before she passed, she told me I was a man now, and she could go, knowing I would be OK."
Curtis said he had to grow up fast when he lost his mother at the beginning of his sophomore year. That pace accelerated exponentially when little Sydney Denise Curtis came along.
"With us both being in college and wanting to finish, it wasn't the plan, but it's what happened," said Pierre 's girlfriend, Roberson, a former track athlete at JMU who graduated last summer.
After learning that his girlfriend was pregnant, Pierre said, he began to fret, mainly afraid of the financial implications of raising a child.
"I'm 21 years old, I'm still in college. I was nervous," he said. "I was scared out of my mind."
Curtis wore the number 5 when he arrived at JMU because his mother was the fifth-born child in her family. When she died at age 51, he changed his number to 51. And on May 1 - 5-1 - in 2009, Pierre 's daughter was born.
Whenever he talks about Sydney, Curtis ' eyes expand and he can't conceal a grin. Despite a demanding travel schedule, he always rushes home after road trips to see his daughter, according to Rashonda, who appreciates that Pierre does the little things, such as building the crib and shopping for clothes.
'The Bridge'
It's no surprise that Curtis seems to be Mr. Reliable at home, given the consistency of his basketball career, in which he's played in every game the past two seasons, despite minor injuries and major responsibilities.
But when former coach Dean Keener resigned under pressure after Curtis ' sophomore year, the kinesiology/sports management major planned to transfer to Vermont. Last week, Curtis said he was "100 percent out the door."
For various reasons, he chose to stay - for one thing, an assistant he knew at Vermont left the program - and he instead decided to become the vanguard of a new era at Madison, rather than the flotsam of the unsatisfactory one that had just closed.
"It's not been easy for Pierre ," said current coach Matt Brady, who called Curtis the "bridge" that eased the staff switch. "The wins have not come in the volume I'm sure he would have liked, but through it all, he's become a remarkably consistent person. We want our guys to be accountable and responsible for your reactions. In every way, Pierre embodies that philosophy."
The typical college life eluded Curtis long ago. Now, the closest he gets to conforming to that stereotype is his down-time hobby of playing video games like Madden football and Call of Duty with teammates. Nights are spent filling a baby bottle, not plastic cups of beer.
"He's had to grow up quicker than anyone I've ever seen in college, with the death of his mother, coaching change, and the birth of his daughter," said Brooks, whom Curtis works for as an intern in the women's basketball office.
Curtis wants to become a coach someday and says there's no better person to learn from than Brooks, a former Dukes point guard and Curtis ' "twin" as they amiably refer to each other.
Right now, Curtis is focused on extending his playing career a bit longer. He has a young boy's faith in Santa that the jaded, 11th-place Dukes can make a deep run in the Colonial Athletic Association tournament this weekend.
Saturday, he ended his career at the Convocation Center, with what's become routine during his career: another loss.
He brought Sydney - festooned in a plaid dress and tiny red bow on her head - into his post-game press conference. She crawled around and playfully yelped, emitting similar joie-de-vivre as her father, who, roughly an hour earlier, converted an acrobatic basket, did a backward summersault on the court, rose to his feet and drummed his fist into his chest while smiling at 4,012 of his closest friends at the Convo.
By the end of the night, after the arena's lights went dim, and after Curtis took care of his responsibilities with the media, he stood on the balcony overlooking the basketball court, gently cuddling his daughter. All of a sudden, the kid-turned-man with the small circle had the largest circle around him. Friends and fans surrounded Curtis , congratulated him, thanked him and wished him future good fortune.
"Just being able to play here for four years, the fans are really good, they really take care of you," JMU's son said with his daughter in his arms. "JMU really takes care of you."
