J.J. Hickson was 4 years old when his favorite team and his favorite players reached the NBA Finals.

"The Phoenix Suns," Hickson recalled after practice the other day. "Charles Barkley and Dan Majerle. I loved that team, the way they played."

Does he remember the coach?

"Uh ..."

"Uh ..."

No problem. This is not a test, though we probably should review.

When the Suns appeared in the championship series in 1993, high definition was still just a dream in this country. ESPN was becoming must-see TV for sports fans. And a 24-hour NBA Classics network was thought to be another example of David Stern's overactive imagination.

Besides all that, Paul Westphal would be the first to say he doesn't look the same as he did when his Suns lost that incredible six-game matchup against Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls.

"He was the coach?" an impressed Hickson said with a grin. "There you go. I'm in the right place then."

Though Hickson was surprised when the Cleveland Cavaliers swapped him and his expiring contract for Omri Casspi and a future first-round draft choice in late June, he isn't complaining.

Trades often benefit both parties. Casspi, unhappy with his playing time in Sacramento, was eager for a change.

Similarly, Hickson, who had patched up a strained relationship with Cavaliers coach Byron Scott, senses a new opportunity to prove he's deserving of a lucrative multi-year paycheck.

"The worst thing is to not talk to him," said Utah Jazz assistant Sidney Lowe, who coached the power forward at North Carolina State. "If you tell J.J. what you want, he's going to give you more. I loved him, loved coaching him. He has gone through a lot, but he was raised right."

Hickson, 23, is no stranger to heartache, which is probably another reason for his resilience. His mother died of kidney failure when he was 10. His father was not in the picture.

An only child, he was raised by his grandmother, Marie Myers, in a strict but loving home.

The woman known as "Miss Marie" – she would track down her grandson when he missed curfew or was late coming home from Wheeler High in suburban Atlanta – remains a powerful presence. They speak daily, often about life, almost as often about basketball.

Like many youngsters facing adversity at an early age, sports became Hickson's haven. When he experienced a growth spurt in his early teens, becoming an endless tangle of arms and legs, major college recruiters started monitoring every dunk, every rebound, every overpowering performance.

After one season at North Carolina State, Hickson was drafted 19th by the Cavaliers, who at the time featured a player named LeBron James. Two seasons later, the Cavs were without James, and for the second half of last season, starting center Anderson Varejao.

Hickson struggled after James departed for Miami. He was benched by Scott for missing an early-season practice. Yet, much like Lowe, and others within the league, Scott remained intrigued by Hickson's determination and raw potential.

At 6-foot-9 and a toned 242 pounds, Hickson is neither physically imposing nor easy to categorize. Much of his length is in his waist and hips, so his height can be deceiving.

And after two years in the league, he is regarded as a poor-to-average defender with unpolished offensive skills. It remains to be seen, for instance, whether he can consistently make a 15-foot shot or catch and finish those beautiful passes from DeMarcus Cousins.

But Hickson is an exceptional athlete who excels in the open court. He loves to run, loves to play, loves to rebound, frequently charging downcourt for dunks and tip-ins.

"J.J. has great footwork," added Lowe, "and he's very quick. When I had him in college, no one could stop him. Now that's he's in the NBA, he's down there with guys who are as big or bigger, or as strong or stronger. Falling in love with the jump shot. … I've seen that. But he'll get better. His work ethic is unbelievable."

Lowe said he would see Hickson in the gym every morning at 6 a.m., then again in the afternoon before and after practices.

With the Kings, Hickson routinely stays and works with an assistant coach on his midrange game.

That alone clearly distinguishes him from his old pal Barkley. So does his humble, low-key nature.

But we all have favorites. Barkley and Majerle, it is. But he certainly won't forget Westphal now.

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