There used to be a basketball court buried in Brooklyn's Gowanus projects that would be packed from dawn to dusk with ballplayers from around the area, and even from the street you could hear the clank of the rims and the oohs and ahhs from those gathered around the court. As you got closer to the action, the games looked like NBA All-Star game highlight reels, with no jump shots, no defense ­ just dunks and dazzle.

It was amazing, and you couldn't help but wonder why some of these guys were stuck here on this court and not on a Division I or NBA level.

But once the games were over, I walked over, picked up a ball and decided to shoot a little. That's when I saw it.

The rims on this court weren't at the NBA's 10 feet. If I had to estimate, I would say the rims were set at around eight feet.

So average players, with average hops (or no hops at all) could pretty much do whatever they wanted while on this court. Every player was Kobe Bryant or Tracy McGrady and every game was a video game-style dunkfest.

For some players, that's as far as it went. For others, they decided that they liked the roar of the crowd, liked the competition, and wanted to take it further. But with such dreams comes the reality that you can't play with the big boys on low rims. If you want to elevate your life, you must elevate your game.

Which brings us to Zab Judah.

On Saturday, the former junior welterweight champion continues on his road back to the top when he challenges WBO champion Demarcus Corley at The Orleans in Las Vegas. For Judah (28-1, 21 KOs 1 no contest), it's his first fight in nearly a year, and only his second since having his bubble burst against Kostya Tszyu in November of 2001.

So what does Judah's career have to do with hoops? Nothing really, other than the fact that the 25-year-old's life mirrors that of a playground legend, someone who made his bones on the street and with the people, but now has to lift his game to the next level to prove his worth for posterity.

Born and raised in Brooklyn, Judah's amateur prowess earned him accolades from around the nation, but he was touted even more heavily in New York, where he was branded with the title of "Next Big Thing". Unfortunately for those who receive it, that title has been an albatross around the necks of fighters like Gerry Cooney, Riddick Bowe, Junior Jones, Shannon Briggs, and Mark Breland, among others. And while some of them made a little money, won a couple of titles, and rode off into the sunset without achieving the greatness expected of them, others just combusted under the pressure of trying to live up to the hype.

The jury's still out on Judah.

Blessed with the kind of physical gifts that would be the envy of all fighters, Judah's hand and foot speed and deceptive power brought him through his first 16 fights without a hitch. In his 17th fight, he dominated Micky Ward over 12 rounds, not only winning the USBA title, but avoiding Ward's debilitating left hook to the liver.

Six fights later, Judah won his first world crown, rising from the canvas to stop Jan Bergman in four rounds. That was over three years ago, but from that night, the whispers started about Zab Judah. He was unfocused, he had no chin, he would be exposed against a higher level of opponent.

So the rim was raised, ever so slightly.

In August of 2000, Terronn Millett was expected to test him, but despite getting floored early in the bout, Judah again rose to stop his foe in four rounds.

Again the insiders grumbled, but outside of boxing's niche community, the world celebrated Judah, boxing's first hip-hop champion. From appearances in Jay-Z videos to a rumored relationship with Brandy, Judah crossed over from athlete to celebrity. ESPN paid attention, featuring Judah in their series, "The Life"; Sports Illustrated jumped in with a lengthy feature story, and soon the soft-spoken Judah chimed in with his own self-praise.

"Super Judah, the best that ever did it."

"Super Judah, champ of the world forever."

Judah romped over lesser-caliber foes in his next three title defenses (Hector Quiroz, Reggie Green, and Allan Vester), but his next opponent would be far removed from that level. In November of 2001, Zab Judah would be playing in the big leagues, on 10-foot rims, against Kostya Tszyu.

Tszyu matched Judah's amateur prowess, his skill set (albeit in different areas), and his desire for greatness. But where Tszyu edged Judah was in his level of competition, and on November 3, that was never more evident.

When Judah dominated the first round of their unification bout, Tszyu regrouped and adjusted his plan of attack, showing the poise of a veteran. Conversely, Judah was used to dispatching foes he dominated. He saw Tszyu as no different, and said as much to this reporter last year.

"I got real cocky," admitted Judah. "My father was telling me to keep my hands up, keep boxing, keep moving. And I was going in there saying, ŒIt's over.' I'm going in there to take this guy out."

He didn't. Judah moved straight back late in the second round and got caught with a right hand that, for all intents and purposes, ended the fight. Against lesser competition, Judah would have gotten away with that move. Against Tszyu, he paid dearly.

Referee Jay Nady stopped the fight seconds after Judah flopped to the floor, and what most people take from the aftermath of the fight was the deposed champion throwing a ring stool and putting his gloved fist on the neck of Nady.

It was a distressing display, and for the subsequent months, Judah made more headlines outside of the ring than in it. From child support squabbles to managerial changes and suspensions, Judah's star fell as quick as it rose.

Except in Brooklyn. In the city of his birth, Judah is still as big a hero as he was before the Tszyu fight. And if you're still loved and cheered by your constituents, there is really no need to change, to lift your game. Legend has it that streetball star Joe Hammond once turned down a tryout with the Lakers because he made more money on the street. Recent star Ed "Booger" Smith, who once graced the cover of Sports Illustrated, has also given up a chance at legitimate pro stardom in favor of his street cred.

So Judah, whose attempts at cultivating a thug image have fallen on deaf ears to those of us who have seen him when the cameras are off, left Brooklyn. Oh, he still lives in New York and gives the city its props whenever he gets a chance, but when it's time to go to work, Judah goes south.

He traded Gleason's Gym for Florida to train for his fight last July with Omar Weis, a tough way to make a comeback. But he did it. He dropped Weis for the first time in the Argentinean's career, en route to a ten round decision. And even though he still got hit with a lot of unnecessary right hands from the light-hitting Weis, Judah gutted out the win and showed enough flashes of his brilliant talent to keep the faithful, well faithful.

That was a year ago, and once again Judah's name has only surfaced in legal briefs (he broke off from long-time promoter Main Events for Don King) and gossip items in the last 12 months. He earned a shot at Corley not by his in the ring performances, but with a punch in the mouth at a post-fight press conference in Philadelphia, again lending credence to Judah's out of the ring immaturity.

But there's no turning back after July 12. If Judah loses, he'll just be another overhyped New York product, a loudmouth with great skills but no clue on how to apply them against the higher echelon of fighters. If he wins, and against Corley that's no guarantee, he's back in business and on the right track towards a rematch with Tszyu.

What he does when he gets there is up to him. Is being a local hero with street cred enough, or does he want greatness?

The great ones raise the rim themselves.