It’s almost 5 p.m. on a Sunday evening inside Proper Cuisine, a marble-tabletop restaurant reserved entirely for the Carrington family. They pause between bites to keep an eye on the time because soon, they’ll be chauffeured down to M&T Bank Stadium for Bub Carrington to be honored before a prime-time Ravens game.
Karima Carrington turns to her 19-year-old, still baby-faced son. “I’m just starting to process some of this,” she said. “Are you famous now?”
It’s a fair question considering Bub’s whiplash ascension. Just two years ago, he rose to become a standout at St. Frances in East Baltimore. He went on to the University of Pittsburgh where, after just one season, the 6-foot-5 wing soared up NBA draft boards. In June, the sort-of-hometown Washington Wizards selected him with the 14th pick.
And here they were, at a fancy restaurant in downtown Baltimore, enjoying oxtail egg rolls and chargrilled oysters surrounded by a camera crew with Monumental Sports Network, the Wizards’ flagship station.
It was part of a long, inviting Sunday touring around Arlington, Bub’s childhood neighborhood, and other sentimental parts of Baltimore, stirring up family gems along the way. He’ll make his NBA debut on Thursday against the defending champion Boston Celtics.
“Nobody expected this,” his dad, Carlton said, “having a chance to play professional basketball.”
“It’s funny,” Karima added, “you don’t think about doing it back then that it would be part of a story now. But it was some good times and I’m thankful for all those moments.”
It took all of 12 seconds for Bub to step out of the car onto Oakford Avenue and notice the changes to his childhood home, which his parents sold three years ago having moved over the Pennsylvania border. “They switched my house up,” he laughed, pointing to the new plants out front and the tan exterior he wasn’t sure was the color they grew up with.
Bub, his younger sister, Faith; older brother, Kareem Montgomery; and parents stood in a circle at the edge of their old front lawn. Directors, wires and boom mics engulfed the family. The Carringtons didn’t seem to notice, ping-ponging memories with effortless chemistry.
Someone pointed toward the road beside them. The first debate ensued. What exactly were the circumstances of a 5-year-old Bub getting hit by a car? “A truck,” Carlton corrected.
One summer day, an ice cream truck pulled onto Oakford Ave. Bub promptly jetted across the street. He made it halfway back before realizing he should snag his sister a treat, too. Double-fisting ice cream, he blindly turned the corner. Montgomery was careful not to over-embellish retelling the crash, “but he definitely left the ground.” Bub popped back up with no more than a bruise on his shoulder blade.
“He’s had some crazy accidents,” Montgomery said, shaking his head.
There was the time Bub tagged along with Carlton’s AAU program, Baltimore Elite, to South Carolina for Nike Peach Jam. One moment he was walking beside his dad. The next, 4-year-old Bub dropped into a manhole. A year later, a dog twice his size charged through the snow. Bub instinctively buried his head under the layer of white fluff, confusing his attacker.
That’s one of Carlton’s favorite stories. He couldn’t believe Bub’s split-second decision. “Oh, he ain’t normal,” Carlton thought. “God got his hand on his head for a reason.”
Growing up, Bub was always the smallest of his peers. Those instincts helped separate him. Pitt coach Jeff Capel said, “his greatest gift is his mind.” Carlton thinks his son might have a photographic memory. It was the only way for a scrawny 5-foot-7 freshman to see the floor at McDonogh.
Then came the growth spurt.
An Oakford Avenue neighbor was invited over during filming to share his favorite Carrington family memory. It was sometime during the pandemic, he estimated. Bub walked up the front steps and ducked his head under the door. The neighbor called Carlton, worried someone was breaking in.
“He didn’t realize Bub grew so much,” Carlton said. “He grew six or seven inches during COVID, like March to October.” Carlton figured his son was destined for a mid-major program, somewhere he could play ball and get a good education. “That [growth spurt] was like, ‘OK, we might not be going to Loyola [Maryland] now. Let’s turn this up a little bit.’”
Bub transferred to St. Frances before his senior season solely to, in his words, play basketball. Returning as part of the Baltimore tour, he dribbled up the sidewalk that divides the campus from the Baltimore City Detention Center. He reminisced on his school record 1,000-point season and Maryland Interscholastic Athletic Association of Maryland A Conference championship. Or how coach Nick Myles used to make them run from Chase Street to M&T Bank Stadium and back.
Back on Oakford Ave, Bub pointed to where their 3/4 basketball court used to be. And the adjacent yard where neighborhood kids used to come play. “Man, it felt a lot bigger when I was younger,” he said.
Then Bub reminded his family, “I was nice at football, real talk.” Carlton scoffed, “Yeah, you was the next Patrick Mahomes.”
When Bub wasn’t in the backyard, he was around the corner and three blocks up the road. That’s where Forest Park High School’s basketball court is, a painted slab of raised asphalt enclosed by tall fencing. Back then, he said, the rims weren’t so pristine and there were no pearly white nets.
Father and son stood before the cameras at center court. Basketball is a staple of their relationship. Bub’s former coaches and teammates credit Carlton, a well-renowned Baltimore basketball coach, for molding his son’s understanding of the game. Even if “the brain part is that side of the family,” Carlton joked, pointing to Karima.
Bub would sit in the back of the car while Carlton reviewed AAU games. He was a little manager for Baltimore Elite, soaking in a wealth of knowledge along the way. Carlton has long been Bub’s biggest supporter. His toughest critic, too.
“I want to see my son play but it wasn’t about me coaching him, I just want to coach,” Carlton said. “Every coach’s son is the point guard or the quarterback, right? Not him. He evolved into this on his own.”
At the neighborhood court, one Wizards director suggested he get a few shots up for old-time’s sake. “Sure, I’m gonna bring over someone who thinks they worked me out,” Bub said. “Mom!”
He egged her on to play defense, then blew by her left foot (only to get stuffed by the rim on a dunk attempt — credit mom’s defense). Then Bub clanked a 3-pointer off the double rims. Carlton playfully cracked under his breath, “G-League.” Bub sank the next attempt (and two more after that). “Maybe called up by Christmas,” Carlton laughed.
In truth, Bub has a chance to make a quick impact on a franchise redefining itself. NBA general managers voted him in a five-way tie for biggest steal of the draft.
Wizards general manager Will Dawkins is as excited about the kid from Baltimore as anyone. “He comes from good stock, parents raised him well,” Dawkins said after greeting new mothers at MedStar Harbor Hospital alongside his rookie. Bub even held a stranger’s newborn baby — the surest sign of growing fame.
Dawkins nestled into the half booth at Proper Cuisine alongside the Carrington family. Bub’s grandmother told the Massachusetts native not to trust crabs anywhere outside of Maryland. Then Bub was whisked away to M&T Bank Stadium, met with a roar from the home crowd while his summer league highlights graced the big screen.
The Carringtons could fill a book with family tales about their rising star — Faith still remembers some of their secret language and misses playing hide-and-seek in the dark. That Sunday offered a glimpse, a chance for Bub to share his world before embarking on his next step: NBA rookie.
“I’m excited. I’m anxious. I’m ready for it to start,” Bub said. “The main thing is I just wanna play. I don’t wanna be one of those guys that’s here just to be here. I want to feel like a team picked me for a reason. I feel like I’m able to be picked for a reason. I just want to go out there and prove that.”
Have a news tip? Contact Sam Cohn at scohn@baltsun.com, 410-332-6200 and x.com/samdcohn.
