by Jeff Goodman

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Last year it was Brandon Jennings, whose test score was flagged by the NCAA. John Wall, regarded by most as the nation's No. 1 high school player in the country this past season, endured a lengthy and shaky recruitment that dragged on well into the spring. Even Kevin Durant — a classier kid you won't find — had his academic struggles.

Harrison Barnes, who sports a 3.7 GPA at Ames High, is a real student-athlete. (AP / Associated Press)

Harrison Barnes is the entire package.

Great player, student, person.

When they speak of a student-athlete, this is exactly who the NCAA is referring to.

Barnes is a 6-foot-8 rising senior at Ames High in Iowa who may just be the greatest No. 1 player in a long, long time when you factor in everything.

He's a 3.7 student, plays the saxophone, reads Warren Buffet books, started a weekly bible study and makes you think of Shane Battier when you speak to him.

No, Barnes isn't the next LeBron. He is a terrific wing player who can shoot, get to the basket, rebound and make his teammates better. Some have compared him to Paul Pierce, but even if he never becomes an NBA All-Star down the road, he's what's right with college basketball.

There's no entourage. Just Barnes, his mother, Shirley, and his 10-year-old sister, Jourdan-Ashle.

Team Barnes.

Just three members. No agents, runners, sleazy AAU guys or other hangers-on trying to get their paws on the newest big thing.

Shirley Barnes, one of the single most engaging and sincere parents I've ever spoken to in the lengthy list of mothers and fathers I've conversed with over the years, won't allow anyone to permeate her family.

"They've tried," she says.

But it's not going to happen.

Trust me. They'll be no stories in a few years about phony SAT scores, no talk about failed drug tests. He won't walk off the court after a loss without shaking the opposing team's hands, either.

Of course, nothing is guaranteed in life, but this kid is the real deal.

Barnes can't recall a detention in his past — or any trouble he's been in dating back to elementary school.

His mother laughs when she recalls a recent letter sent home that had a piece of paper with LeBron James' statistics printed on it.

"I got a note in the mail," she said. "His computer privileges were taken away for a week."

Barnes was caught red-handed looking at his idol's stats on the computer.

"If that's the worst he does," Shirley Barnes chuckled. "I don't worry about him at all. Zero."

One year ago, Barnes went into the summer as a virtual unknown. A then 6-foot obscure kid from the Midwest was a last-minute invite to the LeBron James Skills Academy.

"I barely got an invitation," Barnes said.

Everyone knew his name by the end of the first day after his dominant play.

All the elite programs started calling the kid whose father played down the street at Iowa State and whose mother works at the university.

Usually, when someone says that "everyone" is recruiting them, I just laugh. Beasley, Durant and Wall weren't going to slip through Stanford University's admissions.

However, everyone is recruiting Barnes — from Stanford to Duke to Kansas to UConn.

In fact, Barnes and his mother took an unofficial visit to Stanford after a West Coast event in early June and was blown away by a meeting with former U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, who is now a professor at Stanford.

"We had a 25-minute conversation that was the highlight of Harrison's trip," Shirley said. "They talked about golf and string instruments, since Harrison used to play the cello."

Harrison Bryce Jordan Barnes has handled his own recruitment. It was decided that he'd deal with the first part and then involve Team Barnes once he got a chance to whittle down the list and sort out the serious suitors from the ones that he didn't feel as though would be a quality fit.

Coaches would call the Barnes household and ask for Mrs. Barnes.

"This is Harrison," the emerging star would reply.

"Can I speak to your mother?" they would ask.

"This is Harrison," he'd repeat.

When it came down to trim the 22-or-something list of schools down to 11, Barnes didn't attempt to persuade Mommy or Daddy to make the calls — as so many 17-year-olds do in hopes of avoiding having to tell coaches they don't want to come to their institution.

"He made them all himself," Shirley said. "He wanted to."

This is the same kid who sent ½-page notes to his customers when he'd be late or have a substitute filling in for his paper route back in middle school.

"My mom instilled in me what is right and what is wrong," Barnes said.

Finally, a true student-athlete.