My Bill Walton Moment

 On a Monday evening edition of PTI, Michael Wilbon bid farewell to the recently departed Bill Walton with a poignant reminder: "Everybody's got a story."

I can attest to that.

In 1991, still on the mend from a severe injury sustained in a car accident while jogging, I managed to make it to Freedom Hall for some Cardinal hoops, albeit on crutches.

Struggling down the steps to my seat, I encountered Bill Walton, who was covering the game for TV. Without hesitation, he stopped and inquired about my condition, showing genuine concern.

Walton, with his extensive history of surgeries and physical ailments, understood pain all too well. Yet, true to his compassionate nature, he offered words of encouragement and engaged me in conversation for several minutes before moving on.

Indeed, everybody's got a story.

What became evident in the wake of his passing is that Bill Walton was not just a basketball legend but an exceptionally decent human being. He was caring, interesting, inquisitive, and always eager to inquire about others' well-being.

And for those who watched him provide color commentary during games, particularly alongside Dave Pash, it was clear that Walton's perspective often seemed to come from another universe, if not another planet entirely.

It took me some time to warm up to watching games featuring Bill Walton. He had a unique flavor that required acquiring a taste. Eventually, I succumbed to his infectious childlike charm and boundless enthusiasm, finding myself cherishing it. What a captivating individual he was. And what an extraordinary basketball player. There's no denying that he stands among the elite few in collegiate basketball history, arguably even topping the list. In the NCAA title game against Memphis State, he famously made 21 of 22 shots, although the full stat line is even more impressive. Four additional dunks were waived off due to the era's anti-dunk rule, leaving an astounding mark. Hooks, turnarounds, layups – Walton displayed a repertoire that left opponents struggling to keep pace. While facing a mismatch like 6-8 Ronnie Robinson might seem advantageous, Walton's performance would have been remarkable against any opponent, even someone like Red Klotz in a title game. Despite Walton's brilliance, the UCLA Bruins failed to secure the title in one of his three seasons. In the revealing 30 for 30 documentary series on Walton's life, he offers insight into this anomaly. During the early 1970s, Walton and some teammates engaged in recreational activities typical of their era. Coach John Wooden, known for his strict demeanor, caught wind of these activities. One day before practice, he confronted several players, including Walton, saving him for last. When asked about marijuana use, Walton famously replied, "Coach, I have no idea what you're talking about." Despite this denial, Wooden made an example of Walton's teammate, Greg Lee, who admitted to partaking, removing him from the team. Walton remained steadfast in his belief that UCLA would have triumphed over North Carolina State and claimed the title had Lee still been on the team. Indeed, everyone has their own stories to tell, including Walton himself. The timing of his passing, just a day after the final league game in the Conference of Champions, adds a poetic touch to his legacy. For Bill Walton, a man known to have attended a Dead show or two, may you continue to dance on.