I must be your Dad's age. Bill Walton was my favorite player in the 1977-1978 era. He really did it all, in the era before centers were allowed to leave the paint. His was the first "beautiful game" player I encountered (my other favorite was Maravich but he was a solo artist at heart). Breaks of the Game was a terrific recounting of that season I'd like to read again someday (but probably won't as I have about 200 books I bought and haven't gotten to yet).
It's rare to read such an outpouring of genuine love for a man and it's cause he seemed to have love and attention for everyone he encountered. I'm going to try to remember that as best I can, incorporate a little of that in my own interactions.
I very much appreciate your posts about every playoff game. You can't find that in newspapers anymore and the stuff on most sites is AP level dry.
About 6 years ago, I dragged my then-girlfriend to Tracy, California on a work night for a Q&A with Bill Walton. For an audience of maybe 50, he ambled through 20-minute-long replies and stayed on stage until no one had anything left to ask. Each question asked "won" you an item of your choice from his merch table, though he ended up gifting basically everything to all takers. The inscription inside the copy of "Back from The Dead" I picked up is delightfully unhinged.
As a young NBA fan, I didn't get him as a broadcaster -- he was such a departure from what I understood the profession to be -- but eventually came around in a genuine way. The more I learned about his pain and depression, the more I admired his sincere joy for basketball, for bike riding, for being alive. How lucky we all are to be here while the hooping is this good. I'm glad you two got to share a wavelength at All-Star.
I hated listening to Walton as a kid; it wasn't until I had earned a few decades of rust that I started to appreciate his voice, his viewpoint, his irrepressible joie de vivre. Fast forward to my 40s, I'm streaming his alternative broadcast on League Pass, watching him talk to Robert Parrish and Ben Affleck, just as an excuse to hear his takes again, his baritone bringing me joy, and appreciation for a life not easy, but enjoyed to the full nonetheless. RIP BIG MAN.
Forgot to add that Bill's first book is breezy fun: https://www.abebooks.com/9780786880782/Nothing-Net-Give-Ball-Get-0786880783/plp
More to come, in the meantime we talked about KAT at the Guardian: https://www.theguardian.com/sport/article/2024/may/31/karl-anthony-towns-minnesota-timberwolves-blame
I must be your Dad's age. Bill Walton was my favorite player in the 1977-1978 era. He really did it all, in the era before centers were allowed to leave the paint. His was the first "beautiful game" player I encountered (my other favorite was Maravich but he was a solo artist at heart). Breaks of the Game was a terrific recounting of that season I'd like to read again someday (but probably won't as I have about 200 books I bought and haven't gotten to yet).
It's rare to read such an outpouring of genuine love for a man and it's cause he seemed to have love and attention for everyone he encountered. I'm going to try to remember that as best I can, incorporate a little of that in my own interactions.
I very much appreciate your posts about every playoff game. You can't find that in newspapers anymore and the stuff on most sites is AP level dry.
Loved this one, Kelly.
About 6 years ago, I dragged my then-girlfriend to Tracy, California on a work night for a Q&A with Bill Walton. For an audience of maybe 50, he ambled through 20-minute-long replies and stayed on stage until no one had anything left to ask. Each question asked "won" you an item of your choice from his merch table, though he ended up gifting basically everything to all takers. The inscription inside the copy of "Back from The Dead" I picked up is delightfully unhinged.
As a young NBA fan, I didn't get him as a broadcaster -- he was such a departure from what I understood the profession to be -- but eventually came around in a genuine way. The more I learned about his pain and depression, the more I admired his sincere joy for basketball, for bike riding, for being alive. How lucky we all are to be here while the hooping is this good. I'm glad you two got to share a wavelength at All-Star.
Keep throwing it down, big man.
I hated listening to Walton as a kid; it wasn't until I had earned a few decades of rust that I started to appreciate his voice, his viewpoint, his irrepressible joie de vivre. Fast forward to my 40s, I'm streaming his alternative broadcast on League Pass, watching him talk to Robert Parrish and Ben Affleck, just as an excuse to hear his takes again, his baritone bringing me joy, and appreciation for a life not easy, but enjoyed to the full nonetheless. RIP BIG MAN.