Nobody is feeling sorry for O.J. Mayo.

After all, the basketball star's ACT score of 29 proves he should have been smart enough not to get involved in the allegations which have surfaced.

Besides, how could anybody feel sorry for a phenom who allegedly has been receiving cash and gifts since he was a 16-year-old?

How could anybody feel sorry for a 19-year-old who had such friends as Louis Johnson and Rodney Guillory buying him thousands of dollars worth of clothing and shoes, so on any given day Mayo could resemble Kanye West, Jay-Z or Lil Wayne?

How could anybody feel sorry for a college freshman who had been given a 42-inch flat screen television for his dorm room?

How indeed?

That's why nobody is feeling sorry for Mayo.

But you know what? Perhaps, we should.

What people don't realize is there's more background to this scandalous story than meets the naked allegation.

This sad saga isn't just about a kid's greed. There's a difference between greedy and hungry. Mayo was hungry.

Hungry for a father figure. Hungry for a positive male role-model. Hungry for a dad.

Mayo, who will turn 21 on Nov. 5, has been trying desperately to satisfy that hunger all his life.

With no success.

His biological father, former Huntington High basketball star Kenny Ziegler, was in and out of jail so often -- mostly in - he obviously wasn't qualified to provide any guidance.

In fact, Ziegler was charged with possession of a controlled substance with intent to deliver just last Jan. 25.

What son wants to mail a Father's Day card to Western Regional Jail?

That led Mayo to latching onto his AAU coach, Dwaine Barnes. By 2003, Barnes had become Mayo's legal guardian. Mayo and fellow Huntington native Bill Walker actually shared an apartment with Barnes located across the street from their high school, North College Hill, in Cincinnati, Ohio.

In time, Barnes became Mayo's father figure. In fact, O.J. often called Barnes "my grandfather."

But, then, Guillory, slowly began to wheedle his way into Mayo's inner circle. Eventually, Guillory managed to replace Barnes much to the chagrin of Mayo's mother, Alisha.

SI.com even documented the rift in Mayo's camp pitting Barnes and his mother against Guillory, writing, "As one person close to the situation said, it's like the Hatfields and the McCoys."

That's when Guillory, 43, became Mayo's next male role-model. He admitted as much in a statement released after the allegations involving Guillory became public.

"Rodney has been a positive influence on me as well as a strong African-American male presence in my life," said Mayo. "I have nothing but respect for Rodney."

Now, Mayo has nothing but trouble because of Rodney.

It's sad, really.

Fathers take care of their sons. I buy my sons, Will and Chase, clothing. I give them money. I pay their cell phone bills.

That's what fathers do.

And that's what Mayo has been searching for all his life. He thought he found it in Barnes and, then, in Guillory.

O.J. was wrong both times.

And, now, he's being vilified across the country because all he ever wanted was a dad.

I do feel sorry for O.J. Mayo.

Chuck Landon is a sports columnist for The Herald-Dispatch. Call him at 526-2827. E-mail him at clandon@herald-dispatch.com.