The voice on the other end of the phone was clear and familiar: it was Bill Walton, calling from Big Sur.
“The message was, I want to talk to you about Coach Wooden,” Bill Walton said. “I’m calling from the ends of the earth to talk to you about Coach Wooden.”
And, you know, he would. If there was one word to describe Bill Walton, who died of cancer on Monday at age 71, it would be “authentic.” He was who he was, did what he did, believed what he believed. Depending on your worldview, you might find that flattering or distasteful. He didn’t care.
“Everybody thinks it’s great that Coach Wooden and I got along so well,” Walton told me that day in 2005. “It wasn’t great at all. Coach Wooden wanted what I wanted, and he wanted to win, and he wanted every player on the team to contribute to that win.”
He laughed.
“And it,” he said, “was just beautiful, brother.”
Walton may have actually been the most selfless superstar of all time, and he played on a team that embodied the most basic and pure spirit of the game. At UCLA, under Wooden, the Bruins won the first 73 games Walton played in, the last of a run of 88 straight wins that still stands today. Walton was a central figure on two national championship-winning teams, but he wasn’t the only one. He played with 10 other players who would go on to play in the NBA.
“When I was playing, people said I was in a bad mood,” Walton said, “but the reason I was in a bad mood was because people only wanted to talk to me. Meanwhile, Jamaal Wilkes is here and he’s great. So is Dave Myers. So is Sven Nater.”
He then led the Portland Trail Blazers to perhaps the most emotional championship in NBA history. Walton led a group of dedicated role players and teamed with tough guy Moe Lucas to sweep the West. They then beat the Sixers in two games in the Finals before storming back with a ferocious rally to win four straight games and claim the title. The Blazers’ eight players averaged between eight and 20 points per game, elevating team basketball to an almost mythical level.
The following year, the Blazers were even better, going 50-10, but Walton’s career took a fateful turn when he suffered a foot injury. Soon, Walton’s relationship with the team deteriorated, and he played through injuries for years with his hometown team, the San Diego Clippers. Then a call from Red Auerbach put a tragic end to this beautiful basketball story. Auerbach asked Walton if he’d like to play a small but important role for the Celtics.
“I told Red, ‘I’m going to walk to Boston to play with Larry Bird,'” Walton says, “even though I wasn’t sure I could walk from my living room to the patio.”
The ’86 Celtics were the final piece of the Walton Troika, a master class in teamwork and camaraderie, and Walton was a vital part of it: With 19.3 minutes of play and enough good old-fashioned magic, he won the Sixth Man of the Year award and the Celtics hoisted their 16th flag.
After basketball was over, Walton carved out a place in our conscience as the basketball announcer who would occasionally comment on the game in front of him and compare every team he watched to his old UCLA team. He wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but if you got the joke (which he never was), it was worth staying up late.
He was also perhaps the world’s foremost authority on the Grateful Dead, so it only seems right to end this story with a sad but compelling Grateful Dead song.
“Goodbye / Let life go according to your plan
“Nothing to say now/Let the words be yours, mine are done.”
