Barry Baker couldn’t have asked for a better start.

He was born from the deep end of an athletic gene pool and raised on the veritable sports paradise of Long Island.

He sprouted up in the likeness of his father, Barry Sr. — a legendary Long Island prep athlete — and into a two-sport star at North Babylon High.

Then, one day in 10th grade, Baker threw on a Syracuse Starter jacket before going to school. For the next two years, Baker heard those scripted comparisons.

Jim Brown, the Island’s finest athlete ever, was a running back like Baker. Brown attended Syracuse, as Baker would.

See where this is going? Brown. Baker. Same sentence.

That was Strike One.

(Drop cap) As a steady rain pelted the Syracuse football practice field yesterday, Barry Baker bounced off the backs of his offensive line, rushing for a short gain. These are familiar numbers. Second-string numbers.

Once a can’t-miss blue chipper, Baker has been playing catch-up since arriving at SU in 1999. Now, with projected starter Diamond Ferri out of spring practice, Baker is competing with Walter Reyes to finally earn some quality time at tailback.

‘You’ve got to have patience and that’s something I have,’ Baker said. ‘I’ll wait my turn. But in my heart, I know when I get out there, it’s time to ball. No more playing around, no more screwing up. It’s time to get the job done.’

Baker’s felt that way for a while.

It wrenched his gut as a sophomore when he switched to defensive back, then to linebacker. He didn’t even see a snap at his natural position until last season, when he was a junior.

It tugged at his emotions during his freshman year, when he had to sit out because he didn’t qualify academically.

That year, Baker lived on the second floor of Sadler Hall, like any other nondescript freshman. Every morning, he’d wake up and look out his window at the Carrier Dome.

‘Just think Dome,’ he’d tell himself.

‘I felt like I should’ve been over here with everybody else,’ he said.

But Baker chose this route. He could’ve spent a year at junior college, an option some at home pushed him toward. Baker would have none of it. He belonged at Syracuse, he told himself.

Since his 900 SAT score was too low (he needed at least a 1010 to balance out his 2.2 GPA), Baker took advantage of New York State’s Higher Education Opportunity Program, which gave him a four-year scholarship if he maintained a 2.0 GPA and sacrificed his first year of eligibility.

‘I don’t know if I’d ever recommend a kid do that again,’ said Terry Manning, Baker’s high school football coach. ‘I definitely think sitting that year didn’t work out the way I thought it would.’

For his part, Baker said given the chance again he never would’ve taken the HEOP grant.

It was Strike Two.

(Drop cap) Kindergarteners in Manning’s gym classes have been playing Foxes and Hounds for years. It’s a simple game, really. Like tag.

Foxes and Hounds was the first time Manning saw Baker.

‘We had 100 kids,’ Manning said. ‘And within two or three minutes, 99 kids were running after Barry. No one could catch him.’

Baker went on to star for Manning’s North Babylon Bulldogs, rushing for 77 touchdowns and more than 4,000 yards in four years.

But there was more to it than just football for Baker. There had to be. It was in those genes, you know.

Barry Sr. had led nearby Wyandanch to a state basketball title in 1982. He was also a quarterback during the fall.

The basketball court is really where Baker’s legendary status solidified.

During eighth grade, Baker, who stands just 6-feet today, was asked to try out for North Babylon’s junior varsity team.

Jack Loth, the varsity coach, had never before seen Baker.

‘All of a sudden I saw the kid get a rebound,’ Loth recalled. ‘Before he even hit the ground he had dribbled behind his back and zigzagged up the court. It was just so fluid.

‘I looked at the JV coach and the JV coach looked at me and knew that I saw it. He goes, ‘Well, I guess I don’t have Baker anymore.’ ‘

Baker started for Loth as an eighth grader and went on to become an All-State player. But Baker never won a state title, something his dad never lets him forget.

They’ll often rummage through a box of Barry Sr.’s old high school awards and compare stories.

‘I’m always going to be one up because I won a state championship,’ said Barry Sr., a construction worker. ‘But he’s even up now.’

Barry Sr. is trying to make up ground, too. He wasn’t around for Baker’s childhood and spent time in jail. Baker lived with his mother, Crystal Moore, a fine athlete in her own right.

Moore became pregnant with Baker when she was just a 15-year-old sophomore at Wyandanch (Barry Sr. was 16 at the time). Moore was playing on the JV basketball team when she learned of the pregnancy.

‘I think basketball kind of rubbed off from my mother because she was playing with me in her stomach,’ Baker said, laughing.

In 1999, at age 34, Moore enrolled at SUNY Farmingdale and played with a group of 20-somethings on the school’s basketball team.

Baker split his childhood time living with his mother and paternal grandparents. He grew close to his grandparents, especially his grandmother, Shirley, whom he calls “Momma.” They took him on vacations to places like Disney World.

As a tribute in high school, Baker wore a T-shirt under his uniform with the words ‘No one can judge me but God … and Grandma’ on the back.

‘That’s like my protection, so I wouldn’t get hurt,’ Baker said. “She was like my guardian angel. That’s like my shell, my protection — my grandma.’

When his grandfather died of colon cancer in 1995, Baker wore a headband with the words ‘Rest in Peace Grandpa’ written on it.

(Drop cap) You never would’ve guessed that kids used to flock to him. Autograph seekers would mob Baker, looking to get Long Island’s next big thing to sign their shirts.

No, you wouldn’t have guessed because Baker’s led a rather unspectacular career at Syracuse (nine carries for 30 yards in one season at tailback). Until now, he’s been lumped in that ‘other’ group of running backs along with Ferri and Reyes.

No matter. He never liked the spotlight much anyway.

Once, as a freshman at North Babylon, he rushed for four touchdowns in the homecoming game. At the dance afterward, while seniors paid their obligatory two-minute visits, Baker boogied down with the rest of the student body.

These days, he spends his Sundays just like he did at home: in worship. He’ll spend time listening to church music, a Bible at his side.

And while that’s all fine and dandy, Baker came to Syracuse to play football. If he completes his degree in child and family studies by next spring, he’ll have another year of eligibility.

‘Whereas he’s still learning,’ SU head coach Paul Pasqualoni said, ‘there’s evidence that he’s much more comfortable.’

So when is Baker’s Strike Three going to come?

He’ll never be the next Jim Brown, as those folks predicted.

Funny thing is, though, he never had to be. He’ll still be remembered at North Babylon, as Loth said, ‘as one of the greatest kids who ever went through here.’

‘He used to ask me all the time,’ Barry Sr. said, ‘ ‘Why is everyone saying I’m the next Jim Brown and I haven’t done anything yet? ‘ ‘

But Baker did. He got off to a great start. Now it’s up to him to finish it right.

Darryl Slater’s columns appear Tuesdays in The Daily Orange. E-mail him at dpslater@syr.edu.

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Published on April 8, 2002 at 12:00 pm