Remembering Bill Walton

In his tribute to Bill Walton, who died this week, John Feinstein wrote, “Everybody who met Bill Walton has a story about him.” I never really met Walton, but I, too, have a story about him.

It was Walton’s junior year at UCLA. I had a ticket to the UCLA-Stanford mismatch. To get to my seat at Maples Pavilion, I had to walk behind one of the baskets. When I got to the tunnel from which players entered, I found myself standing within five feet of the giant Walton.

He was staring out at the floor with a look that can only be described as ecstatic. This was an athlete who knew he was about to experience 40 minutes of pure joy. I had never seen that look on anyone before and I haven’t seen it since.

There are plenty of things for which one could criticize Walton. There’s his left-wing politics (but I shared many of his views in my 20s); his rudeness during his heyday as a player (yet by all accounts he later became extraordinarily kind); his odd, off-the-beaten-path commentary as a TV analyst — so distracting that I rarely watched broadcasts he was part of (yet many people loved it; Feinstein goes so far as to call him “a poet behind the microphone”).

But Walton’s performance on the basketball court is beyond criticism. In fact, it was a thing of pure beauty.

I’ve watched college basketball intently for 60 years. Walton is the second best college player I’ve ever seen — behind only Lew Alcindor (his name in college), and not far behind.

And Walton’s performance in the NCAA championship game of 1973 is the best I’ve ever seen at the collegiate level. The big redhead posted 44 points on 21-of-22 shooting from the field. He added 13 rebounds. Walton put several more shots in the basket, but they were disallowed for violating the NCAA’s ban on dunks. UCLA defeated Memphis State 87-66.

As a pro, Walton led the Portland Trailblazers to the NBA title in 1977, an upset victory over a mighty Philadelphia 76ers team led by Julius Erving. Walton was the MVP of the finals. In the championship-clinching game, he put on another show for the ages — 20 points, 23 rebounds, 7 assists, and 8 blocked shots. (Dr. J wasn’t shabby either; he scored 40 points and pulled down 8 rebounds.)

The next season, Portland roared out to a 50-10 record, easily the best in the league. But then, Walton broke his foot.

After that, the Blazers were toast. Seattle took them out in the Western Conference semifinals and went on to lose in the NBA finals to my Washington Bullets in seven hard-fought games.

As much as I loved that Bullets team, I can say without hesitation that they would have been no match for Portland with a healthy Bill Walton.

Even having played only 58 games that season, Walton was named the NBA’s most valuable player.

A series of foot injuries wrecked the remainder of Walton’s NBA career. He missed the 1979 season, hardly played at all in 1980, missed the next two seasons, and then struggled his way through three injury-riddled seasons in basketball hell with the Clippers.

But Walton finally was fully fit when he joined the Boston Celtics for the 1986 season. Serving as a backup to Celtic greats Kevin McHale and Robert Parish, Walton won the “Sixth-Man of the Year award” and helped lead Boson to the NBA title.

More injuries limited Walton to just ten games the following season, his last.

Where would Walton rank among all-time NBA centers had he been mostly healthy from 1975-87? Certainly among the ten best, in my opinion and probably among the top five. Maybe among the top three. He was that good.

As it is, Walton was among 75 members of the NBA’s 75th Anniversary Team, selected in 2021. (McHale and Parish were also selected.) I count 16 other centers among that group.

I count none whose game was more well-rounded than Walton’s. When I consider his shooting accuracy, scoring, rebounding, passing in the half court, outlet passing, defense, and ability/willingness to run the floor, I can think of no center who matches the redhead in the “rounded” category. (Well, maybe Nikola Jokić.)

Nor, I suspect, has any basketball player at any position surpassed the passion for the game that I saw so vividly on Walton’s face all those years ago in Maples Pavilion.

RIP.