By Tom Danehy WE HAVE NOW reached the midpoint of Arizona's regular-season schedule. They've played 15 games, they have 15 to go. They're 12-3 right now and they probably wouldn't mind a whole lot if they went 12-3 the rest of the way. With trips to L.A. and the Washington schools still ahead, 12-3 doesn't look all that bad. In the past, I've given the UA players grades at mid-term. It was a pretentious thing to do, but hey, we all must do what we do best. Or at least what we do most often. This year, however, I'm going to reflect the changing landscape of American education. I won't give letter grades; they're too harsh. I'll present each player with an individualized rubric. What's a rubric, you ask. Well, it's not the guy who invented the cube back in the '80s; I found that out the hard way. Actually, I'm not quite sure what a rubric is. All I know is that I hear the word all the time when I go to my kids' parent-teacher conferences. In fact, it's often the last word I hear before my eyes glaze over completely. Next year, I'll probably have to change again if Gov. J. Fife Symington III gets his way. Under his guidelines, I'd only give grades to the rich white players, because nobody would care about the other ones. So here we go with a personalized rubric with comments on the performance thus far and suggestions for greater success the rest of the way: • REGGIE GEARY. Reggie, baby, what's the deal? You started off so well and now you're tripping over your mouth again. Don't you know all that shit-talking stuff is passé? It went away with the fad that had people liking Michigan, if you can believe that! People rooted for Michigan until it was shown the Wolverines couldn't win games against teams with players who had actual vocabularies. Now real fans have shifted their attention to teams that can actually play a good game rather than just talking one. You're the point guard. As you go, so goes your team. I honestly believe the point guard is the smartest player on the floor; he has to be. Right now, you need to show it. Play smart. Look at Steve Kerr. The dude's coming up on 10 years in the NBA, and he's as slow and short as ever. But he plays smart. Heck, he gets serious playing time on what is arguably one of the best teams in the history of the NBA. That should show you something. I coach a girl's basketball team, and one of the kids on my team has the all-time great name of Katarzyna Bystry. Anyway, she thinks you're hot stuff. So, that makes two of you. The rest of us are unconvinced. You have 15 or 20 games left in your college career that will determine whether you move on to the next level. Convince us. • JOSEPH BLAIR. Okay JB, so you're afraid to play me in dominoes. Lots of people are. You shouldn't be afraid to mix it up under the boards. Use that big-ass body of yours. You're starting to remind an awful lot of people of Sean Rooks, and that ain't a compliment. You're at Sean Rooks, heading in the direction of Ed Stokes. (I once wrote something mean about Sean Rooks and he called me up, all indignant. I told him at that night's game I'd be standing under the basket. That way I'd never have to worry about running into him.) Don't let Ben Davis out-rebound you. Take it personally. Plus, cut out all that nasty dancing. Coach Paul Brown once saw a guy doing an end-zone dance after scoring a touchdown. He told the guy the next time he scored a TD, he should act like he'd been there before. Yeah, you dunk. You're supposed to dunk. Now get in there and don't let me down. • BEN DAVIS. Ben, I don't know if bouncing around to all those colleges made you lose track, but this is your senior year. There ain't no more. That story of how you played at 12 different colleges is cute and all, but it'll lose its uplifting edge if you don't elevate your game, like right now! Your stats aren't bad, but when we first heard you were heading to Tucson, you were supposed to be the second coming of Chris Mills (without the shady background). You've done okay, but you need to do way more. Oh yeah, don't let Joseph Blair out-rebound you. Take it personally. • MICHAEL DICKERSON. What's up, Mike? Are you gonna be one of those dudes who leads the All-Potential team four years in a row? We all know you've got skills, but you have to translate them into the college game. It can be done. You don't think Michael Jordan would be the baddest playground player of all time? Of course, he would. But he learned to play within the disciplined North Carolina system and he's one of the most fundamentally sound players in the NBA. Plus, he dunks on everybody and their mothers. We all know you can do it. So now do it. • MILES SIMON. I'm not really sure what to make of you. Your inconsistency drives me crazy. You were the only one playing against Syracuse in that sorry excuse for a Wildcat game, but then you disappeared in the Bay Area. You're basically the leading scorer on the team, but I don't see you as an offensive force. I can't really complain, but I can't cheer all that much, either. All I can tell you is that nothing drives a coach crazy faster than a player who's inconsistent. Keep working at it; I'm sure you'll do fine. • JOE McLEAN. Shoot the ball! Might as well. Nobody else on that team shoots worth a lick with any consistency. Show me the 30 you got against ASU weren't a fluke. If you could shoot well most of the time, you'd make your team much better. • THE REST OF THE PLAYERS. I'll hand-deliver your rubrics to you; we're running out of space. Mostly they say "work harder." You're going to have to. That rumbling sound you hear off in the distance is high school seniors who would like nothing more than to keep you guys on the bench next year, too.

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