Teddy Dupay Finally Finds Greener Grass

'It'll Never Be Broken ... Unless They Add a 5-Point Line'

At Cape Coral (Fla.) Mariner High School, Dupay was a deadly shooter who set the Florida prep record for career points while competing in Class 6A, the highest level of competition, and was named a McDonald's All-American. Five times he eclipsed 50 points and set scoring marks in four national tournaments. As a senior playing in the prestigious City of Palms Tournament in Fort Myers, Fla., Dupay scored 29 in the fourth quarter against nationally ranked Shaker Heights (Ohio) and later that season went for a career-high 70 in a regional playoff game at Cooper City, Fla.

When done, his state mark stood at 3,744 points. It still stands.

"It'll never be broken ... unless they add a 5-point line," Dupay said.

At Florida, where minutes were spread thin among a wealth of former prep stars, he averaged 10.7 points over his three seasons. What turned out to be Dupay's final home game was a career-high 28 points in a win over rival Kentucky that clinched a share of just the second SEC title in school history.

He was 21 years old and a superstar on campus. Dupay had it all.

Then he had nothing.

In the fall of what would have started his senior year, a tearful Dupay read a statement apologizing to UF, his teammates and Gator fans at a news conference announcing the end of his career. The state attorney's office later named Dupay as an uncharged co-defendant in a case against a friend and roommate who had placed bets on UF games allegedly based on inside information provided by Dupay.

"I put myself in a bad situation and I paid the price," recalled Dupay, who remained in Gainesville long enough to graduate with a degree in sociology. "I maintain the punishment did not fit the crime, but I brought it on myself."

Over the course of the next four years, Dupay bounced from the CBA , ABA, USBL, and had cracks with teams in Europe and South America, including a swing through Venezuela where he met a woman with whom he would have a daughter, Hanna, now 7. He signed on to barnstorm with various club teams for preseason exhibition games against colleges, too. Take the fall night in 2002 at Louisville. That night, Dupay played shooting guard for the One World All-Stars. His team lost 132-83, but Dupay scored 45 points behind a blistering 11-of-14 performance from beyond the arc.

"I'm shocked Teddy Dupay isn't in the NBA," Louisville Coach Rick Pitino said afterward, adding that he benched one of his best players, Taquan Dean, because he got tired of watching Dean try to guard the former Gator. "We didn't want Taquan to go home after giving up 90 points. That would have been bad for his self-esteem."

Dupay's self-esteem -- and confidence -- stayed high. He was in the best shape of his life (a tireless 195 pounds) when he blew out a knee playing for the CBA's Rockford Lightning in '03 and never quite regained his quickness and explosiveness. Dupay walked away from basketball for good two years later to start a career in sales.

Before long, he relocated to Utah.

Doing Time

The June 19, 2008, police report filed by Dupay's 28-year-old girlfriend of two years claimed he raped her after hitting and kicking her about 150 times. It also said Dupay forced her under a desk and threatened to kill her and her family if she tried to leave. A medical exam reported the woman suffered bruises on her outer thigh, upper arm and shoulder, scratches on her back and a swollen left eye.

"We got in an argument and there was definitely a physical altercation," said Dupay, who initially was charged with three first-degree felonies. "It was a huge mistake that I'm very sorry for. I'm not sure there's any better way to explain it than that."

He paused.

"Look those were serious, serious charges," he said. "But as wrong as I was, I never committed a crime like that."

When the allegations finally became public, Dupay was fired from his lucrative managerial post.

Back in Gainesville, Donovan saw the report and called his former player immediately.

"Teddy was always a kid who had that ability to move past stuff, but this, to me, was something different," Donovan said. "I was like, 'Teddy, are you OK?' He told me a lot of things that were being written weren't true; that everything was going to be fine. Again, I was like, 'Teddy, this doesn't sound like it's just going to be fine.' I wanted him to know we'd be there for him, but I didn't push it."

Ultimately, Dupay's girlfriend didn't push, either. Inconsistencies and recanting of details of what happened that night made it hard on the state's case. Last summer, Dupay pleaded guilty to a lesser-degree felony count of aggravated assault and misdemeanor counts of threat against life or property and intoxication. A judge sentenced Dupay to to 30 days in jail, three years' probation, $800 in fines, 100 hours of community service and ordered him to complete domestic violence and anger-management counseling.

Edward Brass, Dupay's attorney in Salt Lake City, declined to comment on both his client and the case.

Dupay reported Sept. 1 to Summit County Jail, a minimum-security facility, on a work-release schedule. He slept in the top bunk of a dormitory cell at night, drove to work in the morning and was required to be back by 9 p.m. For the first few days, police tailed him from jail to make sure he was adhering to the sentencing guidelines. "I wasn't there a lot, and when I was it was usually to sleep," Dupay said. "I pretty much kept to myself. You see the [reality] shows. You don't know what you're supposed to say. Nobody knew me, so I just hung out, played cards, read and minded my own business. That's it."

He just did his time.

Though court orders prohibit Dupay from seeing the woman, he says the two are still in love. Her phone calls and texts go unreturned, though, as Dupay spends whatever spare time he has alone at his home in Herriman, Utah, and looks forward to visits from his young daughter when she comes from Idaho.

"I don't have a lot friends, really, or a social life," he said. "And don't have time for them, either."

Tackling the Pot Issue

Trying to save the world -- and get marijuana declassified from the same Schedule 1 Narcotic status reserved for heroin, crystal meth and crack -- is time-consuming.

[Disclosure: Dupay admits to smoking marijuana in the past, but says he hasn't done so in a "couple years," and adds he won't any time soon. As for his knowledge of weed before taking on this project, "All I knew about pot was that Jason Williams [the former Florida point guard now playing for the Orlando Magic] smoked a lot of it."]

In his suburban office about 10 miles out of Salt Lake City, Dupay stood at a large grease board and for an audience of one made a detailed and diagrammed case -- rather convincingly, in fact -- that legalizing pot and hemp could solve much of America's health, industrial, environmental and hunger problems.

Then came the spin that is his and his alone.

"The problem is not the laws. The problem isn't the prohibition of cannabis or the hypocrisy of it all," he explained. "The problem is that over 75 to 80 percent of our country, when polled, thinks marijuana should be legal, yet nobody stands up to do anything 'cause there's nothing in it for them. But people now can be part of the solution by joining S'Boalnation. There's money in it."

Dupay got the idea for S'Boalnation following the election of Barack Obama when the President-elect's transition team asked the nation's citizens to submit questions about the country's most serious issues. The No. 1 question cited in Round 1 of the poll on Change.gov did not focus on the economy, Iraq or Afghanistan, health care or immigration. The question that got the largest response, by far, was this one:

Will you consider legalizing marijuana so that the government can regulate it, tax it, put age limits on it, and create millions of new jobs and create a billion dollar industry right here in the U.S.?

"This isn't about smoking it," Dupay said. "This is about finding solutions."

S'Boalnation members pay $94.20 to join the cause and $24.20 per month, then are compensated for members they sign up. All expenses (home office, mileage, cell phone, etc.) are tax deductible and Dupay donates $5 of each payment to the charity of each member's choice. There are incentives for merchandise sales, too.

No, Dupay insists, this is not just some pot pyramid scam.

The business launched Dec. 15, so memberships have just starting trickling in; about 150 or so. But with his Web site, media exposure and weekly teleconferences, Dupay plans on spreading his gospel.

The National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws (NORML), the mother of all marijuana advocacy groups, was asked via e-mail to comment on Dupay's endeavor. The response:

"There are likely hundreds of so-called pro-reform entities on the Internet, some are actual non-profit organizations like NORML (which has been working full-time since 1970 as a non-profit), most are commercial web pages seeking to make money. Most of these web pages are not actually involved in law reform, but want to make $ off the potential web page traffic by selling online ads, 'memberships,' products, etc. ... Most of these web pages are redundant and fail. ... At this time, NORML has no public opinion re: another one of these web pages."

Dupay was surprised NORML, a group with the same end game, would be so dismissive of his efforts.

"You mean to tell me the director of NORML isn't pocketing some cash?" he asked. "Making money doesn't make it bad. Shame on NORML for not encouraging everyone who wants to help."

The movement was in the news in January when New Jersey voted to become the 14th state to legalize marijuana for medicinal purposes. Another 13 states have similar legislation on their dockets in 2010.

"The S'Boalnation, baby," Dupay said. "It's here."

Living & Dreaming

Dupay has a mental exercise. It's called "Dream Sheet."

Every day he takes out a piece of paper and writes down goals he would like to accomplish in his life. If even a ridiculous notion comes to him -- shooting free throws on Mars, for example -- he puts it down. Why not? It's just a Dream Sheet.

But basketball no longer shows up among his list of aspirations. The last time he played was when he dominated a Wednesday night men's league last summer and needed every one of the seven days between games for his back (herniated disk surgery) and knees (four more operations) to recover.

Now when Dupay dreams he thinks about standing atop a podium on the Mall in Washington with thousands of people lined around the Reflecting Pool immersed in his every word and chanting his cause.

S'Boalnation in the nation's capital.

"I'm taking classes now," he said. "I have two personal coaches who are working with me on how to interact with different size crowds. Body language. Eye contact. Hand gestures. Facial expressions. I need to be ready for the big push."

Awkward pause. Curious glance. Neither fazed him. They never do.

Neither does the suggestion that most would think Teddy Dupay, nearly a decade removed from glory, is living in a Fantasyland.

He shrugged. Then smiled.

"I am."