Justin Castleberry walks into the Gateway campus apartment he shares with three other Bucknell men's basketball players.

He shakes his head in disgust as he walks by John Griffin's area.

"His bed, man, you just wouldn't believe it," Castleberry says. "It's ridiculous."

Fellow Bison player Jason Vegotsky tosses and turns in his bed, trying to find some solace from the music playing inside his Gateway late one night this semester.

No iPod, MP3 player or CD. It's teammate and roomie Darren Mastropaolo playing the guitar. Probably working on a Dave Matthews Band song.

"He plays that freakin' thing all the time, man," Vegotsky says in part frustration, part admiration.

At practice when precision and intensity is lacking, Griffin, all of 6-foot-1, 185 pounds, has just one response: anger.

He is in somebody's face. Everybody's face.

When an underclassman forgets where to be in an offensive set or doesn't rotate properly in coach Pat Flannery's famed matchup zone defense, Mastropaolo, at 6-foot-8, 255 pounds, will take the sensitive approach. He'll throw one of his paws around his confused teammate and quietly instruct him on what he's doing wrong.

Griffin and Mastropaolo are senior captains this season. Been best friends since their official recruiting visit four years ago.

They are as different as current coach Flannery's defense-first approach and former Bucknell mentor Charlie Woollum's fast-break, run-and-gun style.

They are proof that opposites attract.

"I don't know how (Mastropaolo) puts up with (Griffin)," Vegotsky says as Castleberry nods in agreement.

But knowing the basis of the friendship makes it easy to see how the senior captains do more than tolerate each other.

Griffin comes from Philadelphia, a son of a basketball coach. He lives and breathes Big 5 and Philadelphia 76ers hoops. He is in a Mecca of activity.

Lewisburg doesn't have any of that. It wasn't until Griffin brought his frazzled look and passion for the game to campus that the region really latched on to college basketball.

Mastropaolo hails from the seaside town of Falmouth, Maine. His laid-back attitude mirrors that of his home surroundings.

Central Pennsylvania is hours from ocean resorts, trendy clubs and shops.

So it was a love of their hometowns -- and their families -- that first brought this odd couple together.

"We both love basketball, are close to our family, our brothers," Mastropaolo says.

The tight-knit families made it tough for those two to be away from home as college freshmen.

The different climate and strange faces surrounding them only added to the difficulty in adjusting.

"Grif was homesick a lot his freshman year," Mastropaolo says. "He was the oldest (sibling). I had already been through that with my older brothers leaving for college."

From August until basketball starts in October, Griffin, like many freshmen, struggled most.

Tougher classes. Harder workload. No safety nets of home.

And: "No SEPTA buses," Griffin jokes of the Philadelphia area transportation system. "It was a completely different atmosphere here."

So the two talked and did a lot of things socially on and around campus.

Both players also got pick-me-ups when basketball started because they were able to be contributors right away.

They weren't locked down on the end of the bench to watch games. They weren't solely scout team players in practice.

They were needed.

Mastropaolo is a strong rebounder and capable of setting bone-crushing screens to free up teammates, including Griffin, for open jump shots and drives to the basket.

Tenacity was one thing Griffin brought with him from his Philadelphia roots.

Bucknell played a so-so game in a loss to Princeton in the 2004-05 opener at the Carrier Dome in Syracuse.

Moments afterward in the locker room, it was Griffin -- a freshman -- taking the team to task over its collective lack of effort and execution.

On bus rides home after other losses, it was the Philadelphia street kid who spoke up.

He had one volume: high.

"Sometimes, you learn to tune him out," Vegotsky, a junior from the Philadelphia area, admits. "But the one thing you realize is that he cares."

Though the homesickness died down, Griffin and Mastropaolo always found time to talk about family.

When May 2008 rolls around, the two likely will take different paths in life. Griffin figures to be a teacher and a basketball coach. Mastropaolo hopes to embark on a career as a professional musician.

But their friendship is sure to endure.

This past summer, Griffin and his mother made the 11-hour journey from Philadelphia to Bar Harbor, Maine, for a two-day visit with Mastropaolo and his family.

"We got to Maine and I realized it was still four hours away," Griffin recalls.

The families enjoyed the scenery and the company over lunches, dinners, a national park and the cliffs overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

"There was a place there that had the best ribs, man," Griffin recalls.

But Griffin, now one set of final exams and another semester short of graduating, understands the importance of his friendship with Mastropaolo. The necessity of it to balance out his life.

"Freshman year, I needed him to get into parties," Griffin jokes. "But in practice when we were struggling, he always knew how to act. He focuses on the part of the brain that knows how I should act.

"He is always more practical when he speaks. Me, I just always yelled to be heard."

The two heard each other loud and clear when they needed a good friend most. They now are lifelong pals, still much to the surprise of many, including their basketball teammates.

And they are just a handful of wins away from being part of the most successful senior class in program history.

Now if they can only stop driving their Gateway roommates crazy.

n Sports editor Tom Housenick covers college basketball for The Daily Item. E-mail comments to thousenick@dailyitem.com.