BRANDON REMAINS HUMBLE DESPITE SUPERSTAR STATUS.

Byline: Associated Press 

Even in his own locker room, Terrell Brandon is lost in the crowd.

He is sitting alone in his usual spot inside Gund Arena, an hour before taking the court in his second straight All-Star game. Most of the visitors are here to see everyone but him.

He is sitting between Chris Webber and Grant Hill. Scottie Pippen is across the room with Alonzo Mourning and Tim Hardaway - the only point guard in the NBA who has outplayed Brandon consistently this season.

If not for his Cleveland Cavaliers' jersey, Brandon might be mistaken for a locker room attendant.

And he wouldn't mind a bit.

``My style is not to be, I don't know, a media guru,'' Brandon said. ``I feel I can play the game, really, and do my talking on the floor.''

Talking is not Brandon's game. Neither is showmanship nor bravado. When talk turns to his status as one of the NBA's top guards, Brandon squirms, looks away, gets nervous creases in his 26-year-old face. The answer comes out as if Brandon has rehearsed it on the many nights he has dreamed of putting his fortune to good use and not bringing shame on his family.

He nods, looks straight ahead.

``I'm no superstar,'' he said. ``I'm just a decent player.''

Decent?

``If I ever thought I was that good, that would stop the humbleness,'' Brandon says, his soft, deep voice a murmur in the All-Star locker room. ``I wouldn't be as hungry about playing the game.''

Suggestions that Brandon could be the best point guard in the NBA are not just hype. In his sixth season in Cleveland and second as a starter, Brandon is in the top 20 in the league in points (20.2), assists (6.3), steals (1.82) and 3-point percentage (.399). He is shooting 89 percent from the free throw line, fourth in the league.

And yet when his predecessor at point guard, Mark Price, returns to Cleveland in a visitor's uniform, he gets louder applause than Brandon.

``I am a big believer that everybody has their time,'' said Price, traded in 1995 to make room for Brandon, his backup for four seasons.

``I think probably the thing that stopped him from getting recognition was that he wasn't able to step right into the league and start playing right off the bat,'' said Toronto Raptors point guard Damon Stoudamire, Brandon's childhood friend from Portland. ``He had to wait.''

In part, it is Brandon's tendency to shy away from publicity that makes him a relative unknown in an otherwise brash league. It also is his size. Like Stoudamire, Brandon is at least an inch shorter than he is listed, really about 5-10 on tip-toes.

Brandon scored 11 points in his first All-Star game. Two weekends ago in Cleveland, Brandon had 10 points and eight assists in 17 minutes in his second All-Star performance, with his parents and the NBA's greatest living players sitting in the stands.

``One of the reasons it makes me so proud, it's because Terrell has worked for everything he's got,'' said his mother, Charlotte. ``People are just getting to know, `Who is this kid, Terrell Brandon?' ''

After the 1996 All-Star game, Charlotte Brandon started Mothers of Professional Basketball players, a support group that does charity work and prepares families for life in the NBA. It now includes about 60 moms, including Charles Barkley's and Shaquille O'Neal's.

``What I think is so unique about me doing this is, nobody knew who I was,'' Charlotte Brandon said. ``Nobody knew Terrell until here lately.''

Like his mother, Brandon is known for doing charity work. Last year, he gave a free basketball clinic for kids in a rough part of Cleveland called Luke Easter Park, a place no pro athlete had been before. He was struck by the poverty he encountered while running a similar camp in Tokyo during his college days at Oregon.

``I will never again be unhappy about what I eat,'' Brandon told his mother when he returned.

To fulfill a goal of bringing jobs to the Portland neighborhood where he grew up, Brandon started a business called Tee Bee Enterprises. A complex is opening this month that includes sportswear stores, a barber shop and a basketball court.

``God is going to bless people who give and don't ask for anything in return,'' Brandon said. ``I know that.''

Brandon feels blessed just to be able to walk. He was born with feet turned inward, the toes pointing at each other. Charlotte and her husband, Charles, an assistant pastor at the family's church, would not let doctors break his feet. Brandon had to wear corrective shoes until he was 3.

Now those feet lift him high in the air for a jump shot. He releases the ball, eyes wide, head slightly tilted, lips tense and tucked into his mouth. The self-conscious look, a look of uncertainty, melts away when the ball goes in.

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