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As funny as he was tall, loosey goosey, inclined to blurt out all kinds of things about all kinds of things, sharing his wonder about the world and appreciation of life with all of us in a style, manner, and peculiarity like no one else ever has.
Right now in Heaven I can believe this is actually happening, a six-foot eleven man in a psychedelic yellow, green and orange Tai Dai T-shirt, untucked, and faded blue jeans ripped at the knees strutting through Heaven saying something like: “Gloriousness. I always knew Heaven would be as amazing at it is and I’m finally here soaking in the sights and sounds of eternity, sharing this unfathomably blissful experience with all the great people here in Heaven. Halleluja, I say, hark the herald angels sing, call me maybe, lucy in the sky with diamonds, let’s jam to some Touch of Grey’.”
He sees his favorite guy ever, UCLA coach John Wooden: “Coach ye the almighty-est, can you believe how this all ended up, oh the crystallization, you and me winning national championships at UCLA and now, elevating with you into the clouds, above the stars, rising into Heaven where I can soak in the richness of your wisdom forever? I am forever and eternally blessed and always have been as a human being and now at this resting place like no other, with my spiritual guidance counselor, Jerry Garcia, and ultimate mentor and spiritual leader, The Wizard of Westwood. Wow what an explosively resplendent day this is joining the celebration of all this unending greatness after experiencing so much of what was great about life. Shining on me now are the sun and the stars. Everything is sparkling and I feel like I’m on top of the Grand Canyon with my arms spread and my heart full and my love unlimited.”
This man unlike any other, Bill Walton, passed on at 71 and all I can feel is gratitude for what he taught me which is that no matter how serious life is in so many ways you have to just unleash your inhibitions, say how you really feel, be the real you, and find ways to laugh every chance you get.
And not take yourself too seriously.
Who else was anywhere close to like Bill Walton? The answer is no one. A two-time NBA champion, one of the greatest college basketball players who ever lived who, let’s never forget, made 21 of 22 shots in a national title game – no one has ever matched that.
Yet that stunning performance is not even close to all we appreciate about Big Red. He transcended basketball, shunned normalcy, ditched conventional behavior, and said things in ways and with originality no one ever has. An unleasher of whatever came into his head he most definitely was, as unfiltered as anyone can be but not mean. There was a freshness to that. We loved how uninhibited he was, so unafraid to be off the main paths of mainstream conversation, a trailblazer for life as he was once for the Portland Trailblazers when he seized his first Larry O’Brien Trophy.
A man who created his own category of human being that didn’t fit any stereotypes. A stretched out island of a person where the sun was always shining. Always he kept talking and observing and often we weren’t sure how the thoughts were entering his mind but we didn’t care because we were pulled into his enthusiastic reflections on everything from biking to basketball to the meaning of life and so many other things. Always with passion. Always slightly askew. Always Bill Walton. Authentic to his soul.
A few years ago when the pandemic hit I was making up sports stories about an eclectic crew of sports personalities traveling around the country going to various stadiums for off-the-wall football tailgates, contests, romances, and conversations never before or since had. Charles Barkley, Stephen A., Aaron Rodgers, Tom Brady, Bill Belichick, Bo Derek, Gronk, Rickie Williams, George Foreman, the Jackson Five, Rocky, Frankie Avalon and others were on those trips and things got untethered.
Then one day my Idea Man called me and said: “You know what this trip needs. It needs Bill Walton. You need to get Bill Walton involved in these stories.”
A masterful stroke from the ideal Idea Man. From then on Bill became a main character whether it was when he voluntarily got hypnotized by Belichick in a Super Bowl tailgate tent or went to Lambeau Field and contextualized the significance of Brett Favre slinging a solidified cow dung chip over the stadium.
“This is just beyond unbelievable,” Big Red said. “We’ve got cow dung flying over Lambeau Field thrown by three of the greatest quarterbacks the world has ever seen. Poop brings us back to our roots, to the basics of life, how we got here and where we’re going, where one day we’ll turn to ashes, but for now, we explore all that is great about the tremendous treats that come out of the backside of cows. It’s just amazing what those cows do and how they do it, making frisbees. I mean, you’ve just gotta appreciate such beauty.”
Walton was out smoking weed with Ricky Williams during Super Bowl week and let this out:
“Oh for the love of all football gods and goddesses who have ever made love. This is a masterpiece. Here we are, smoking weed the night before the most momentous and malicious Super Bowl ever, witnessing a strategic plot of the highest level of sophistication by the game’s most revered schemer of all time (Belichick), full of rank jealousy, desperately trying to prevent the quarterback he cut (Tom Brady) from winning. It’s got everything: Shakespearean tragedy, modern technology, pettiness, the Edge’s winter cap, and an entirely insane idea. Ricky, give me that joint. I definitely need to take a hit like no hit I’ve taken over my luscious life.”
On these trips Bill had something to say about everything that happened. And as recently as last summer he became the master of ceremonies for the annual Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest:
“I call together all galaxies, planets, and communities of every stripe right now,” he said. “He (Joey Chestnut) is the man with a colon as wide as the Pacific Ocean, a throat as open as a Kansas highway sky, a stomach as vast as the Grand Tetons, an anus as free-flowing and navigable as the Nile River. When he crams those hot dogs into his stomach, it transmogrifies somewhat like a caterpillar into a butterfly, into a visual of a mountainous mudpie, a football-field-sized waste lagoon, a brownish and algae green fingerpainting of the Dead Sea.”
One time Sportface wrote about meeting Big Red at a Shell Station for lunch to talk about the March Madness Tourney.
“How fabulous is Fanta Grape Soda, Sportface? It’s like drinking wine with Drew Bledsoe on his vineyard in Walla Walla, Washington. What a wonderland that Walla Walla is. Fanta Grape…so juicy. So sweet. Is there anything sweeter than having lunch at the Shell Station drinking Fanta Grape Soda with Sammy Sportface? You’re got to believe in the American ideal that everybody’s got a shot. That’s what makes this country so bountiful and wonderful. The tournament epitomizes American opportunism and the entrepreneurial spirit. It’s what makes this country of ours the stars and stripes forever. Sure, Winthrop can win it all. I believe anything can happen if I just think about it long enough.”
Bill never actually said these things but you can imagine him being open to being present at all these situations and saying similar things, going to a Shell Station for lunch and saying how great it was to be there drinking a soda talking about the tourney and connecting all that to the Grand Canyon or other big mountains.
A few months ago I read a book about Walton’s time with the Boston Celtics. One night he took his teammates backstage before a Grateful Dead concert to meet the lead singer and Bill’s favorite musician, Jerry Garcia.
Who does that? Only one guy.
Another gem of a vignette in the book was the night they won the NBA title and he went over to Larry Bird’s house to party and wanted to keep going all night. Larry went to bed but Bill kept partying and when Larry woke up Bill was still there.
Partying.
He didn’t want to stop celebrating. So he didn’t.
This is my lasting memory of Bill Walton. A man not wanting the party to end, extending the time of laughter and fun, going and going, talking and commenting and never stopping, slurping up every bit of life there was to drink.
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Sammy Sportface, a sports blogger, galvanizes, inspires, and amuses The Baby Boomer Brotherhood. And you can learn about his vision and join this group's Facebook page here:
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