Noah Finds Ring Precedes 'Circus'

ST. LOUIS -- They first broached the subject in a Minnesota hotel room, where Florida's Joakim Noah and Al Horford tentatively agreed before last year's region final to return to school for their junior seasons regardless of their NCAA tournament fate.

After helping Florida win the national title one week later, Noah knew the unofficial pledge meant a delayed NBA payday. What he did not know was that it meant he was about to enter a world of unparalleled expectation and scrutiny.

"I was so quick to say, 'Oh, we're going to deal with the expectations,' " Noah said. "It has been tougher than I thought it would be. . . . It has been draining."

Noah is not merely Florida's fourth-leading scorer but also the face of a rare team that returned its entire starting five from last season's championship season. Before Noah's decision last spring, no collegian who had been named the Final Four's most outstanding player had returned to school the next season since Miles Simon following Arizona's 1997 title.

Unlike Simon, Noah is a transcendent individual who might have been the first pick in the 2006 NBA draft and who attracts as much attention for his energetic performances as his colorful personality. The son of a tennis legend, Yannick Noah, and a former Miss Sweden, Noah is a worldly 22-year-old who is as comfortable discussing Nelson Mandela and John Lennon as he is dissecting the personnel of UCLA, Florida's opponent in Saturday's national semifinals in Atlanta.

In an age when many of the top players look for the quickest route to the NBA, Noah's story illustrates the obstacles involved in remaining on campus an extra year and enduring a season that he has repeatedly compared to a "circus." Everyone from analysts to students offered unsolicited opinions that at times caused Noah to grow frustrated and play "for too many people."

"I don't think there is a player at Florida," Noah said, "who has experienced more than I have."

To maintain a competitive edge, Noah said the Gators have always embodied the "PHD" mantra of Coach Billy Donovan, which means staying poor, hungry and driven. The problem this year, Noah said, is keeping that "PHD, but there is filet mignon and salami and all these great meats in front of you."

In other words, distractions accompany being arguably the most recognized player in college basketball. Horford acknowledged: "If that were me, I don't know if I could handle it. He has so much on his shoulders."

For Noah, it has been a dizzying ascension. Three years ago, he said he was barely considered a Division I prospect. Two years ago, he played less than 10 minutes per game as a freshman. Last year, he was not on the NBA's radar until the NCAA tournament.

Florida's rise last season from unranked preseason afterthought was fresh and fun, Noah said, adding: "We could do anything. They [fans] were happy when we beat Jacksonville." And all of Noah's histrionics, the chest pumping and yelling to the crowd, was initially viewed as "cute and funny," Donovan said.

But Noah's six-game performance in the NCAA tournament afforded him rock-star status in Gainesville, which attracted almost as many critics as fans. The first glimmer of a changed reality occurred during a spring campus walk with teammates. A student specifically ignored other players and said, "Noah, thanks for winning the national championship."