Bill Walton Represented a Day When College Athletes Were Legendary, Not Temporary | Comment

When basketball legend Bill Walton died on Memorial Day, I didn’t think of him as the former No. 1 overall draft pick, NBA champion and league MVP.

I didn’t think of him as a Hall of Fame broadcaster known for his eloquent, rambling commentary and philosophical musings in which he could be talking about how the game of basketball has evolved over the years and suddenly go into a version of Bob Dylan “Times are changing’ “

And me I didn’t think about him like the fun, colorful counterculture hippie and Deadhead who wore bandanas and tie-dye t-shirts and recited Zen quotes like: “The past is history, the future is a mystery, and this moment is a present.” That’s why it’s called present.”

No, the day Bill Walton died, I thought back even when I was a kid, living among oak and pine forests in north Florida, where my older brother, James (we called him Moochie, or Moo for short) and my younger brother, Sam, played basketball in a Dirt court in the front yard and shoot on a bent ledge attached to an old wooden backboard nailed to a scraggly, moss-covered oak. And the three of us would argue about who was Pistol Pete Maravich or David Thompson or Artis Gilmore or Rick Mount or some other college basketball star at the time.

But mostly we all wanted to be Bill Walton.

This may seem strange in today’s college basketball world, but I remember Bill Walton – The Big Redhead – as a college basketball player, first and foremost. It was another day and four-year college basketball stars were actually more popular than their NBA counterparts.

And Walton, at least in my house, was the biggest star of all. He led UCLA to two national titles and an 86-4 record in his three years (freshmen weren’t allowed to play in those days), including two 30-0 seasons. He produced what is commonly considered the greatest college basketball game of all time in the 1973 NCAA final, when he scored 44 points on 21-of-22 shooting in a victory over Memphis State.

Let’s take a break now and do what Walton would do and quote his favorite Dylan song:

“Come mothers and fathers
Across the land
And don’t criticize
What you can’t understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is quickly back
Please exit the new
If you can’t lend your hand
Because times are changing”

Yes, all of us old school fans must recognize and accept that the landscape of college athletics has changed forever. With unlimited transfers, unlimited transfers, and the ability to get paid to play, today’s college athletes are much better off than they were not just 50 years ago, but 5 years ago. Today’s college stars have more freedom, more power… more money.

But what they don’t have is the adoration and emotional attachment with college fans. The love affair we had with players like Walton turned into a one-night stand.

When Grant Hill and JJ Redick played for the Magic. I once asked them how staying and playing four years at Duke made them household names.

“Of the 120 games I played at Duke, 115 of them were on national television,” Hill said at the time. “For four years, it was us and The Cosby Show. People would see us once or twice a week and that allowed me to enter the NBA with a bang.”

Said Redick: “When you’re at the school for more than a year or two, the fans feel like they know you. A special bond is formed.”

This link has almost completely disappeared. College basketball players have become as anonymous and faceless as department store mannequins. How many casual sports fans know that two of the NBA’s brightest young superstars — Minnesota Timberwolves guard Anthony Edwards and Oklahoma City Thunder guard Shai-Gilgeous Alexander — shared a cup of coffee at the University of Georgia and the University from Kentucky, respectively, before jumping to the NBA?

Without a doubt, college athletes today are much better off in many ways, but sometimes I wonder if they are missing out on something even bigger than their NIL paychecks. Walton, throughout his life, spoke about the lessons he learned playing for the great John Wooden during four years at UCLA.

“Playing for Coach Wooden was a privilege and an honor. He taught us to value teamwork, integrity and discipline,” Walton once said. “His ‘Pyramid of Success’ wasn’t just about basketball; was a model for living a meaningful and successful life… He always told us that the true test of a man’s character is what he does when no one is looking. This principle has guided me throughout my career and life.”

My older brother, Moo, passed away several months ago.

And now Bill Walton is gone too.

I miss them both.

And I miss that old dirt court, the crooked edge, the frayed netting and the backboard nailed to the moss-covered oak.

College stars were eternal mythical figures back then.

Now there are momentary gusts of wind; They disappeared as quickly and insignificantly as when they arrived.

Email me at mbianchi@orlandosentinel.com. Get in touch with me on 969TheGame.com/listen