Coaches and critics tell David "Mooch" Jackson that he doesn't shoot enough, and he'll be the first to tell you it's true.

But for a guy who spent his first year out of high school washing dishes because his standardized test scores were too low, basketball statistics, including 6.7 points per game, don't really bother him. Call him unselfish -- as everyone around him does -- somehow the senior Penn State guard six years removed from high school will walk away with a degree and a whole lot of perspective.

Jackson wants to win like any of his other teammates, if not more, but the outside shot he is all too willing to sacrifice is what he came here to do and what his teammates and coaches want to see most.

"I've been known to be a scorer since I came here on that totally different road. I'm so frustrated. It's just crazy, but I just want to win," Jackson said. "If that takes me taking a back seat to some people scoring, or scoring even, that doesn't matter to me."

Teammates bust on Jackson for putting up 500 shots in a practice day, making much more than he misses, and then taking about five shots in games. It's an odd twist when a shooting guard cannot resist the urge to pass.

Jackson's 14 points on 5-of-9 shooting last night at Ohio State has not been the norm. Against Wisconsin last Saturday, his line read: two shots, zero points -- far different from his 18.2 scoring average during his sophomore year of junior college.

"That's why it's somewhat challenging and frustrating when he doesn't shoot it in the games," Penn State head coach Ed DeChellis said. "I think he's open. I encourage him to shoot."

Every day in practice, Jackson will go up and down the court, lighting up the scout team with the deadly accuracy, which made him a 55 percent three-point shooter during that sophomore season.

Jim Hatfield has coached Andrew Toney and Jeff Malone, two NBA all-stars, and after working with Jackson for two years at Gulf Coast Community College, he puts Jackson onto that list as their equals.

"He's so conscious of being a team player, in his mind," Hatfield said. "He's got to be more, I don't want to be more selfish, but he has to realize that the team is better off with him shooting the ball."

In a few months, there will be no team for the man that turns 25 in August. If an attempt at basketball overseas doesn't work out, Jackson could be forced into a 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. job next fall.

DeChellis normally cherishes unselfish players. The coach has never had to worry about Jackson off the court, or academically, but Jackson's unreached potential as a scorer is a hard thing to watch walk out the door.

"The carry over to the games haven't been what we'd like to see," DeChellis said. "There aren't many times where your coach is saying to you, 'Pull it. Shoot it, you know, be aggressive.' "

***

AAU teammate Marcus Moses would shoot without fail in high school, and Jackson would enter the timeout huddle saying, "Marcus, you're shooting too much."

Greenfair Moses, Marcus' father and the coach, agreed. He jokingly calls his son crazy, "a punishment from God," but Greenfair would always focus his fury on the all-too-pleasant Jackson.

It was never a personal attack, more along the same lines of Moses forcing money into Jackson's hands for candy at the store, walking away, and telling him to move along before the proud teen would try to return the gift.

With his booming voice, the one that makes him a professional Martin Luther King Jr. impersonator, "Brother Moses," as he is called, would shout, "No, Marcus is fine. You are not shooting enough!"

Once the message was received, Jackson would obey. Moses remembers him scoring 57 points against a Maryland AAU team notorious for having the best in the state, such as Julius Irving and Moses Malone. This team featured former Georgia Tech and Portland Trailblazer guard Jarrett Jack.

"When I tell you David Jackson can shoot, on a bad night he will shoot about 40 percent," Moses said. "On a good night, he'll shot 60 to 70 percent, but when he's hot ... it's incredible when he's hot."

The greatest mistake Moses could ever make was playing this weapon at the point guard spot. If he did, his gifted scorer would turn off and become an uber-passer.

Jackson doesn't know why this happens. It's extremely subconscious. All summer before this season at Penn State, he focused on being more aggressive.

Roommate Jamelle Cornley would notice him up at 7 a.m., taking shots at the gym about five hours before the rest of the team woke up. The work hasn't paid off on the court.

"I don't think it's showing right now," Jackson said. "It's frustrating. I just need to play more aggressive. It's an attitude. Just be me."

"Me," the real Jackson, is someone Moses tries to protect Jackson from. At High Point High School, Jackson took pride in distributing the ball and getting everyone on his team in double figures. He never thought of the consequences.

Moses swears if only Jackson had a little bit more selfishness, if only he could take a bit of his son Marcus and mix into Jackson, there would be a complete basketball player. As a person, unselfishness might have hurt Jackson, too.

For the longest time, Moses pleaded with him to take scholarship offers from private high schools like Oak Hill (Va.) and National Christian (Md.), renowned basketball factories where he could gain college exposure. Thinking selfishly was an impossibility, as Jackson believed High Point could win a state title if he stayed.

He never won a title -- Jackson broke his foot -- and the interest of mid-majors faded when he struggled with standardized tests. The only school offering him a visit was Division III Gettysburg, and that opportunity vanished after a couple low ACT scores.

If he had the money for tuition, Jackson might have taken the community college route. He had an offer to attend Montgomery Community College near his hometown of Gaithersburg, Md., but it wasn't that easy.

"He was just one of those classic kids, man," Moses said. "You just want to give him everything. Some kids had everything they wanted growing up. He had nothing. I've never seen him get drunk, get high, none of that foolishness. He's a special kid."

A year removed from high school, Jackson worked at the assisted living center, where he did anything from houskeeping to changing diapers. It was a way to save up money, but it also allowed his foot to heal.

If it weren't for Moses and his AAU team, who Jackson played with during his year off, he might still be performing housekeeping duties at the center.

After winning an AAU game in Greensboro, N.C., Moses was asked to head the Bonner Academy basketball team, a prep school in Raleigh. Jackson, along with most of his AAU teammates, joined Bonner the next year.

When Moses was fired a couple games into the season, Jay Collins, a coach at St. Augustine's in Raleigh, who was a "Kentucky Buddy" of Hatfield's worked out with the coach-less Bonner squad.

Jackson, now introduced to Hatfield, had an in at the junior colleges, or the "JUCO route," an idea shunned in the past, but he was going to explore all of his options.

With high school teammate Antwan Siebert by his side, Jackson toured community colleges in Jacksonville, Tallahassee and Gulf Coast in Panama City, Fl.

Jackson would settle on Gulf Coast, and as fate would have it, he would land at Penn State.

"It made me humble," Jackson said, "and it is like a blessing to be a college athlete. Some kids come here, 17, 18 years old, and they don't know what's going to happen after college. I got a chance to see that before hand, and it really just opened my eyes."

Maybe a missed jump shot, or an errant pass, aren't the worst of his worries.

***

Etched on his sneakers is the name "Aunt Carla."

It's there to remind Jackson of another aunt on his mother's side, Carla Walters, who died at the age of 52 before Penn State's game against Long Island on Dec. 13, 2006. She was a religious woman, always telling him to pray.

"It just really opened up my eyes," Jackson said. "You can be playing basketball one day and the next day be done."

The threat of mortality trivializes basketball for a few brief moments. Then the frustration returns. The Southeastern Louisiana game on Dec. 16 only fueled skeptics' disappointment with Jackson.

With seconds remaining, the score tied, it was Jackson's job to throw an in-bounds pass down court to Geary Claxton. The hope was for a shot attempt before the backboard lit up and the game went into overtime.

The ball slipped out of his hands, going far right and almost into the stands, setting up a worst-case scenario. Now it was Southeastern Louisiana's possession, tie score. Daryl Cohen, with no time remaining, hit a three from the corner to down Penn State and make Jackson the goat.

Less than a month earlier, Jackson, also with clock winding down, tie score, his feet set in the paint, kicked out to an open Mike Walker for three. Seconds later, Walker was beating his chest in the student section after winning the game as time expired.

Glory dies fast with failure, but Jackson has enough real world experience to put those events in perspective.

"It's been tough, but nothing is easy," Jackson said. "It was just one game. We had a lot more to play after that. Coaches really got in my ear and told me a lot people make mistakes."

Collins, who considers Jackson as family after their time together at Bonner, was telling him the same.

While at Bonner Academy, Collins would invite Jackson to make the 10-minute walk home about two or three times a week. Collins' wife would cook for Jackson as he watched games on the television and played with their two young children.

Talks on the cell phone rarely include anything but basketball, otherwise, Collins wouldn't hear much of a response. They don't really talk about Jackson's past, or any of his "eccentric" interests, such as decorating clothes.

This year, the conversation has been focused around playing loose. From looking at stats, Collins can tell his apprentice isn't comfortable, or Jackson would be shooting better than 43 percent from the field, regardless of shot attempts.

"This is his senior year," Collins said. "Play how he wants to play, and be aggressive, and let everything fall where they fall. That's it. It's very simple. He's such a smart player and he's such an unselfish guy that he knows it is out of character for me to tell him, 'Shoot the ball. Shoot the ball. Shoot the ball.' "

Opportunities to take a last-second shot are slim now as graduation day approaches. Jackson is more than ready to get out of the educational system. He said it feels like he hasn't been home in forever.

After stops in Maryland, North Carolina, Florida and Pennsylvania, he thinks a move to Europe wouldn't be the worst idea, if Collins can help him continue his basketball career over there.

After an attempt at basketball overseas, Jackson sees himself running a Boys and Girls Club, or, maybe, he'll become a full-time coach.

"Nobody really wants to work, but you have to," Jackson said. "It's better to find a job you're happy doing. That way you can do it everyday. I can just see myself as a coach someday, but not [any] day soon. I don't have the patience."

At the same time, Jackson's voice hints at his passive nature.

Inner ball-hog? He has no idea where to find it, and nobody else has really been able to help him, either.

"Just stay solid. Don't worry about anything just play free. Things will happen for you," Jackson said. "I think I can be a much better player for this program. I'll just keep working and hopefully it comes out."