Strawberry bond

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Darryl Strawberry and his wife, Charisse, moved briskly through the pregame crowd at Comcast Center, their three small children in tow. Bald head gleaming, instantly recognizable, the 6-foot-6 former major leaguer occasionally was intercepted by Maryland basketball fans who wanted to say hello and acknowledge their recognition. Strawberry nodded back but kept moving en route to Section 102, except when he asked for his seat location and a middle-aged female usher named Pat told him, "You've got a great son. He must get his talent from you-know-who."

Strawberry smiled and responded, "From God."

Darryl Strawberry discovered God long ago. He wrote about it, he talked about it. The demons still won. But now he is taking action. Since his release from prison last April, Strawberry has worked for the Without Walls International Church in Tampa, Fla. He helps the poor and misguided, handing out Thanksgiving food boxes, visiting classrooms, steering youngsters and even other athletes from the same trail he blazed with utter recklessness and abandon. He and Charisse are taking a ministry course and they plan to start a ministry of their own, a recovery group for people fighting addictions.

"I realize that what I've done is not about me," Strawberry said. "It's about who I help."

This night, however, Darryl Strawberry's immediate purpose is finding out what his son, D.J., looks like in a Maryland uniform. Separated by 3,000 miles, Darryl had not come to see D.J. play in years. Darryl was asked if he was nervous. "Not at all," he said. He has, he noted, been through a lot.

Heads turned and applause spread as the Strawberrys descended the long aisle. As they inched along the row to their seats, students in the adjoining section rose and gave Darryl a standing ovation. Later, the cheers would be directed toward D.J. Strawberry, whose talent, whatever the source, helped the Terps beat Wisconsin last week.

It was a close game and a nice win for a young team. The crowd erupted when D.J., a freshman guard whose first name also is Darryl, stole a pass and drove uncontested for the clinching basket at the end of overtime. Earlier, at the end of regulation, his halfcourt shot almost won the game. Down the stretch he was the only one of Maryland's five freshmen on the floor.

With frenzy all around him, the 41-year-old Darryl showed little emotion. He held his 2-year-old daughter, Jewel, on his lap for much of the game. Later he confessed, "I was probably more excited than I looked."

D.J. was excited, too. More than he wanted to be. Maryland was playing a ranked opponent and the game was on national cable TV. "I didn't think I was too poised out there," he said. "I just didn't want to mess up anything I was doing."