The players’ entrance at Viejas Arena is upstairs near the main box office. Kimo Ferrari, a self-described “5-foot-11, Filipino-Italian, average-looking guy,” arrived for San Diego State’s first preseason exhibition against Cal State San Marcos.
“This is for the team,” the security guard told him.
Ferrari fished his phone out of his pocket, pulled up the San Diego State men’s basketball website, clicked on the roster and scrolled to No. 23. Then he matched his student photo ID with the name.
The same thing happened at Brown, where Ferrari received his only Division I offer. One time, a teammate was hosting a recruit and brought him to a pickup game with Ferrari and other Bears players. The recruit remarked that it was cool they let the student manager play with them.
It happened at the players’ entrance to Brown’s Pizzitola Sports Center, too.
No offense.
None taken. Ferrari didn’t hold a grudge, becoming good friends with the recruit and the security guard manning the door at Pizzitola.
“I totally understand,” Ferrari says. “They’re just trying to do their job. I wouldn’t let in a 5-11 kid saying he plays for a San Diego State program that prides itself on defensive length and rebounding, either.”
They know who he is now. The entire arena does. The entire city does.
When Ferrari and his family walk to center court for Senior Night festivities ahead of Saturday night’s regular-season finale against Nevada, the Viejas Arena crowd will let loose a roar not generally associated with a guy who averages 1.7 points and 0.9 rebounds per game – just as it does whenever he peels off his sweats and jogs to the scorer’s table to sub in.
Ferrari graduated from Brown last spring with a degree in business economics and, because the Ivy League doesn’t allow grad students to play intercollegiate sports, had a COVID season of eligibility remaining. He considered being a practice player at Duke. A smaller Division I school back east offered a scholarship. Then SDSU, the program he grew up rooting for, invited the Francis Parker High School alum to be a walk-on with the opportunity to earn playing time.
He subbed in against UC San Diego in the Nov. 6 season opener, got beat on a baseline drive and quickly returned to the bench. He didn’t play meaningful minutes again until Jan. 8, at home against Air Force after the Aztecs fell behind the last-place Falcons 20-8 and coach Brian Dutcher, down two regulars with the flu, was running out of options.
“I didn’t have any idea I was going to play in that game,” Ferrari says. “About 10 minutes in, they pointed at me and said, ‘Kimo, go in.’ My heart was racing. I was really nervous. I did not have the mentality of a fifth-year senior. It took me all the way back to being a freshman. Obviously, I didn’t make shots but just my energy kind of gave the team a little boost.”
Kind of? The Aztecs erupted for a 40-4 run and averted disaster. They were plus-20 points in Ferrari’s 20 minutes on the floor.
A legend was born.
Kimo-therapy.
The Ferrari Sparkplug.
“I told him after the game, ‘I thought I had a chance to be next mayor of San Diego, but I don’t think I can beat you, Kimo,’” Dutcher told media in the postgame interview session. “The crowd loves him, and the coaches love him.”
He’s a legend at Brown, too, less for what he did over 75 career games than what he did in his final one at the arena where the security guard didn’t let him in. Ten made 3-pointers and 39 points on Senior Night against Dartmouth is the stuff of mythical lore.
“I’ve watched Kimo for a long time,” Dutcher says. “I watched him play at Saints. Then he made the move to Francis Parker, and I watched him there. I always ired him as a player. To have that extra year as a graduate from Brown and have him come here to work on his MBA and have him on the team was a no-brainer. We knew he was good, too. It wasn’t like, well, let’s just take him. He’s come in and played valuable minutes for us. … He’s not hard to like.”
Aztecs teammate Miles Byrd heard Ferrari was transferring to SDSU, and they only had nine for a summer pickup game. Byrd got his number and asked if he’d be their 10th.
He didn’t judge when he met him the first time.
“For me, I knew Kimo was a hooper,” Byrd says. “You can just tell. You can tell by how they walk in the gym. I automatically assumed he was a good shooter because, well, he’s probably not a good dunker.”
He was definitely the former, scoring more points than anyone else that day — by double — and continuing to torch the nylon throughout the summer. Byrd started to wonder if he ever missed.
So the players knew. It took until January for Viejas Arena to know, too.
Ask Ferrari which is his favorite memory — dropping 39 on Senior Night at Brown or two points, four rebounds and a steal against Air Force to chants of “Keeeee-mo, Keeeee-mo” at Viejas Arena — and he can’t pick one.
One is prideful moment of self-affirmation, proving he belonged at that level after initially receiving no Division I offers and nearly committing to a Division III school in the Midwest before Brown called in March of his senior year after a player transferred out. The other is spine-tingling validation in a hometown arena where, as a sixth grader, he sat in the upper bench seats for a 2013 game against No. 6-ranked Arizona and future NBA star Aaron Gordon.
“It’s crazy, especially being a San Diego kid,” Ferrari says. “I’ve gone to so many Padres games, been to Aztecs games before. I’ve been one of those people in the stands, rooting on our San Diego heroes like (Fernando) Tatis or (Manny) Machado. When they’re rooting for you, it’s kind of surreal. As a San Diego kid, I appreciate it even a little bit more.
“Maybe fans see me as one of them, out there working hard, being a team-first guy, doing whatever I can for San Diego. Maybe that’s why the Aztecs fans have clung onto me a little bit. You don’t really have to be a rocket scientist to know that I’m an outlier in of the length and athleticism.”
Or as Dutcher puts it: “It’s a phenomenon as old as basketball. It’s the smaller player playing against the bigger players, chasing down rebounds, making open shots, making hustle plays. It’s that underdog.”
Ferrari will finish his SDSU master’s program in August. He may entertain playing overseas for a year or two. Or he may just jump into coaching immediately.
“My ion is basketball,” he says. “I mean, I love it. I want to stay with the game as long as possible.”
Barring a home date in the NIT if the Aztecs miss out on the NCAA Tournament, Saturday will be Ferrari’s final at Viejas Arena.
As the players stand shoulder to shoulder across the free-throw line for the national anthem and look to the flag, he will do what he always does and momentarily divert his eyes to the upper corner, to the bench seats where he and his sister sat for the 2013 game against Arizona.
“I always take a moment that, whatever’s going to happen in this game, I’m always grateful for the position I’m in,” Ferrari says. “It’s been such a cool ride. I’m glad Aztecs fans have taken me in. Really looking forward to finishing this thing off right.
“Yeah, it’s been cool.”
