A Farewell to Bill Walton

By DON ROLLINS

“I’ve had 36 orthopedic operations, have two fused ankles, my knees, hands and wrists don’t work, I now have a fused spine, other than that, everything is great.” — Bill Walton

Accolades for the recently departed Bill Walton continue to pour in. A collegiate and professional basketball standout, the 71-year-old bridged with abandon the worlds of professional sports, classic rock and political liberalism — a rare fusion in the realm of sports, past or present.

Walton’s roots were in greater San Diego, where he anchored a Helix High School team that won 49 straight games and back-to-back state championships (1969 and 1970). During his final two years at Helix, he shot a still-record national high 78.3% from the floor, and placed in the top seven in total rebounds and rebounds per game.

Highly recruited by blue-blood college programs across the nation, Walton chose UCLA and legendary coach John Wooden. During the by-then 6’11’’ center’s three dominant years (1972-1974) the team finished 86-4. Meanwhile, Walton won nearly every major award in men’s collegiate basketball. Some more than once.

But the congenital foot conditions that would plague and eventually end his professional career were already evident. Playing through pain had already become his normal.

Walton’s professional career was at once shining and tragic. When healthy enough to contribute to any of the three NBA franchises for which he played, the statistics and achievements were impressive: league-leading totals in rebounds and blocked shots; NBA All-Defensive First Team; All-NBA Second Team; NBA Most Valuable Player and: two-time NBA champion.

Yet the foot and other injuries limited Walton’s playing time to just 468 games over 10 seasons. And most of those 468 were played on mangled feet and ankles.

Walton’s next incarnation was as a basketball sportscaster, working alternately for CBS, NBC, ESPN, the Sacramento Kings and the Pac 12 Conference. Known for his obscure literary references, random rock lyrics, on-camera tie-dye T shirts and bantering with his co-broadcasters, two generations of basketball fans grew up with Walton as their inside if cosmic source on the game.

In his memoir “Back from the Dead,” Walton never stays too far from the classic-era musicians that rocked his world starting in the late ’60s.

Each chapter makes reference to such artists as Neil Young, Dylan, Marvin Gaye, Santana, the Who, the Stones or the Grateful Dead. Especially the Dead: He estimated seeing more than 850 shows, and almost always hosted the band in his home when playing in the San Diego area. Walton often mentioned the rush and sense of oneness he felt at every concert, every time. His joy of music was contagious.

Walton’s progressive activism was real and sometimes costly. To his various coaches’ and employers’ consternation, he participated in campus and other protests, was arrested during an anti-Vietnam march, and gave an address at the memorial service for the controversial activist Abbie Hoffman. Walton’s intensity on the court was easily matched when attacking or defending a position, and he seemed to care little when quoted or photographed in a negative light.

References to Walton’s rougher personal side were likewise real and sometimes costly. He was known to vehemently challenge coaches, officials, team owners, fans and other players, some of whom were his teammates. Words were exchanged, blame was laid. When asked about those times, Walton replied with uncharacteristically few words: “Life is about growth. People are not perfect when they’re 21.”

Take, leave or shrug him off, Bill Walton was an original. His toughness often led to recklessness, his exuberance sometimes grated on the soul. But like his self-proclaimed “brothers” from the Grateful Dead, Walton was on a trip of his own making. Too bad it ended so soon.

Don Rollins is a retired Unitarian Universalist minister in Jackson, Ohio. Email donaldlrollins@gmail.com.

From The Progressive Populist, July 1-15, 2024

Populist.com