On Monday evening on PTI, Michael Wilbon, in closing his tribute to the now-departed Bill Walton, remarked, “Everybody’s got a story.”
To that, I can attest.
In 1991, still recovering from a major injury after being hit by a car while jogging, I finally made it to Freedom Hall for some Cardinal hoops. On crutches.
As I was struggling down the steps to my seat, Bill Walton, who was covering the game on TV, came walking up the aisle.
He stopped and asked what had happened and how I was doing.
Walton knew about surgeries—reportedly, he had 39. Foot problems. Leg problems. A broken back. He knew pain—until the end, it is said—and true to his nature, he wanted to offer words of encouragement.
And he did.
It wasn't gratuitous. He spent several minutes chatting with me before moving on.
Everybody’s got a story.
To that, I can attest.
What is clear from every comment since the news broke is that Bill Walton was an eminently decent fellow. Caring. Interesting. Inquisitive. Intelligent. Always asking others how they were doing.
And, as anyone who watched a game when he was doing color commentary, especially with his straight-man partner Dave Pasch, knows, Walton seemed like he was from an alternative universe or at least another planet.
I’ll admit it took me a while to appreciate a game Bill Walton was commenting on. His style was an acquired taste, but I eventually succumbed to his childlike charm and enthusiasm and came to cherish it.
What a fascinating guy.
What an incredible basketball player.
Inarguably, he’s one of the greatest collegiate basketball players ever, arguably at the very top of the list.
In the NCAA title game against Memphis State, he is credited with making 21 of 22 shots. This is true, but it’s not the whole story. He dunked four more shots, making it 25 of 26, but they were waived off because of the anti-Alcindor no dunk rule then in place.
Hooks. Turnarounds. Layups.
Sure, 6'8" Ronnie Robinson was no match. But, in a title game, going 25/26 against anyone would be impressive.
The Bruins didn’t win the title one season during Walton’s three years. In the four-part 30 for 30 on Walton—watch it—he offers an explanation.
It was the early '70s, and like many his age, Walton and some of his teammates were getting stoned. Apparently, the overbearingly strict John Wooden caught wind of it. One day before practice, the coach confronted several players, saving Walton for last.
PG Greg Lee foolishly and naively admitted he partook. Wooden removed him from the team. So, when Wooden asked Walton if he smoked marijuana, his center responded, “Coach, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Walton remained firm in his belief that UCLA would have beaten North Carolina State and won the title if Lee had stayed on the team.
Everybody’s got stories.
Including Walton himself.
That he passed away the day after the last league game in his beloved Conference of Champions is almost too poetic.
Bill Walton, is known to have attended a Dead show or two, Long May You Dance.
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