 |
Houston Rocket for a Day
Written by Rick Archer
When I was 27, I had the privilege
of playing pickup basketball for 10 minutes with professional
players from the Houston Rockets.
I have always loved basketball.
Unfortunately, at 6' 1", I don't have the height, the jumping
ability, or the quickness to be special. As a young man, I was a good shooter
and had a knack for defense. As I matured as a human being, I
also became a good passer. These skills allowed me to
be a good pickup basketball player, but nothing more.
I should have played high school basketball.
I would have been a starter (on a bad team). However I had a
job after school and had a huge need to save money for college.
Plus I didn't like the coach.
So I played my basketball at city gyms instead after school
on days I didn't work. However my decision to skip the high
school B-Ball team haunted me. I spent a lot of time wondering
about the glories that could have been. During my Senior year
of high school, daydreaming about basketball was my favorite
escape from a boring math class.
|
My favorite fantasy
was visualizing one spot on the floor far from the basket where I could always make a shot no matter what. Although I had limited basketball skills, teams wanted me on their bench just in case they needed
that one special player to make a tough shot
when it counted most at the end of the game.
I made a D in that calculus class, but won some big games in the
process.
Fortunately that "D" was my only blot on an
otherwise good academic record. I was able to continue my
education. Once I hit college I became a serious gym rat in college and
then later in graduate
school. Basketball helped me keep my sanity when things got
tough. It served as my best way to let off steam.
|
As I said, I have
always been a good playground basketball player.
Not great, but definitely better than average.
My love of basketball has extended into my
senior years as well. That's me at age 55 still trying to get
better on the
2005
Alaska cruise.
After Grad school, I moved back to Houston. Since I didn't
have a girlfriend, I had to do something to stay out of trouble.
I played a lot of basketball back in the
Seventies to work off the excess energy (too bad I couldn't save for
now).
My favorite place to play basketball was
the Jewish Community Center
over on South Braeswood.
They had a brand new gym.
The Houston JCC will always be an important place for
me since this where my dance career began
a year after this story about the Rockets occurred.
In addition, I loved playing Volleyball as well.
One Sunday morning during the summer of 1977 I went over to the JCC
at 9 am to play some
pickup volleyball. After
the volleyball ended,
my friend Michael invited me to stay after to play some one-on-one basketball
at 11 am.
This was our Sunday ritual. After playing for a while, we went
to sit on the bleachers to rest.
|
 |
I had been playing particularly well that
morning. I hope Michael never reads this story, but if he
does, I hope he forgives me for my next words. All morning
long I basically beat Michael like a drum. I was taller and
quicker. I could also shoot with either hand, a real advantage
in one on one basketball. As we sat on the bleachers, I
started to talk trash. Yes, it's true. I rubbed it in
that I had won every one game. Truth be told, Michael didn't
even come close. That said, as I write this story, I am
ashamed of my behavior.
Yeah, let's face it, I was young and cocky. Thank goodness the
Universe decided to teach me a lesson. That day I was given the
finest lesson in humility I have ever
received.
As noon rolled around,
Michael and I were the only
2 men in the gym.
As we sat there chatting,
our eyes began to bulge when several Houston Rockets began to
walk on the court including
NBA All-Stars Rudy T (Rudy Tomjanovich) and Calvin Murphy.
Dumbfounded, Michael and I looked at each to
confirm we were really seeing what we were seeing. Our heroes!
Michael and I stared in further disbelief as several other Rockets began to
stroll into the gym as well. Although my memory is eroded by time, other players
who were there included Allen Leavell, Ed Ratliff and a big guy named Don Smith who had just renamed himself "Abdul Aziz"
or something like that.
Since it was the off-season, we assumed these men were here to play
some basketball to stay in shape. Michael and I were excited.
We were going to get a free show!
 |
The players began to warm up. Up
close,
we couldn't believe at how huge these men were.
We were stunned by their size.
With the exception of Calvin Murphy who is 5' 9"
and Allen Leavell at 6' 1", the rest of the men appeared to be 6' 5"
and up. They weren't just
tall, they were muscular too. Yet despite their immense size,
their sense of balance and economy of motion was equally impressive.
Michael and I watched in awe as
these giant trees moved with a grace
typically
associated with dancers and gymnasts.
Next a basketball player named Randy White showed up. I immediately cracked up.
I watched the Rockets on TV every chance I could and had decided
this guy was the worst player in the NBA. I told Michael how pathetic Randy White was.
A graduate of the University of Arizona, Randy had been a late-season addition to the Rockets. He had played sparingly and very poorly. His shooting had been inaccurate to say the least.
Nor was his defense any good. It appeared whomever he guarded scored at will.
Mostly Randy White occupied a seat on the bench except for NBA garbage time
when the game was essentially over. I made sure Michael was very clear about my contempt for this athlete
who, in my opinion, did not belong in the NBA.
Today I was about to learn the meaning of the
adage, "Be careful what you wish for."
As I watched the Rockets shoot, I secretly wished I could get out there.
Playing professional basketball had always been my secret dream even though I was quite aware I was not even remotely talented enough to harbor any realistic ambitions in this direction.
However, that
never stopped me from dreaming about it!
|
One of the Rocket players, Joe Meriweather, came over to get something out of his gym bag.
I seized my
chance to ask him what the Rockets were doing here.
Meriweather said they were there to play some informal basketball to stay in shape during the off-season.
I nodded and
continued to watch as the players warmed
up.
I noticed Meriweather
began talking in earnest with another player.
To my surprise, he suddenly pointed at me. The other guy shook his head in disgust, but
then threw up his hands in an exasperated way.
The man appeared to give in to
something he wasn't very happy about. I was immediately on guard
because I couldn't imagine why I would be involved in the conversation.
A premonition swept over me. I had
been doing some pickup basketball math and had a hunch
what was going on. They had 7 players.
Apparently someone was late. They wanted to start and needed a fill-in.
Joe Meriweather approached
us. A huge "uh oh"
began to surge through my body. Sure enough,
Meriweather asked if I would join them.
I was unable to speak.
Sensing my fear, Meriweather then looked over
at Michael. No way! I think my buddy Michael's sudden
resemblance to Casper the Friendly Ghost cost him any chance at
getting the invitation instead of me. But Michael was no
dummy. Michael realized he was still mathematically in the
running. So Michael
solved the problem by sticking both shoes in my
butt and giving me a good strong push. Suddenly I was falling out of the bleachers onto the
court. That did it. I was the chosen one.
|
 |
As I hit the floor, I was feeling pretty shaky.
I was so nervous I couldn't see straight.
But then a bizarre arrogance kicked in. Hell, why not?
Maybe I will make a shot! I almost stumbled in my haste to get out there.
This was great! What a hoot!!
I didn't expect to excel, but I honestly thought I would hit an open shot if they didn't guard me too closely. I also thought maybe I could play a little defense on someone like Allen Leavell.
I had once seen Leavell at a club called Cooters. I walked
close enough to him to discover Leavell was the same height as me. I
figured Murphy was too fast for me, but Leavell and I were built the
same.
Because they had "me", my team argued they
should get the ball first. The other team quickly agreed.
That should give you some idea how sorry our
opponents felt for my team. How embarrassing!!
Like an idiot, I smugly thought I would show them!
But boy did I change my
tune the instant the game started!!
I had
no idea!
These giant men started moving at the speed of race cars in the
Daytona 500. My God, they were bigger than trees and faster
than a speeding bullet! I had no idea how fast these men were
until I was right there beside them. Now I panicked.
I am not exaggerating in the slightest when I say I have never been so afraid
of getting hurt in my life!
I immediately apologized to the Almighty for my arrogance to ever imagine I could "play"
with these guys. What was I thinking?
Too late for apologies to the Universe. I was stuck in a
nightmare. Imagine being on a free-falling roller coaster so intimidating that you lose
all your confidence. You scream
at the top of your lungs, "Get me the hell out of here!!!"
That's what it felt like.
I continued to be astonished with the speed that these giants moved.
I knew they didn't intend to hurt me, but I was scared to death I couldn't get out of their way fast enough!!
|
 |
 |
Even worse I feared if I did try to get out
of their way, I might guess wrong and run right into someone trying to
drive around me. It was like trying to dodge a speeding car...
these men were so enormous and so fast!!
I also worried about being trampled.
Or even worse, stuffed in the basket
along with the ball. That's about how helpless I felt.
Plus I felt small. Heck, I was the
same height as Leavell and taller than Murphy, but I felt like
I was a midget in the Land of the Giants.
This was a pretty strange feeling indeed for a man who was 6 feet, 200 pounds and used to plenty of physical contact.
These men were just so immense.
Fortunately as the
men whizzed by me at the speed of light, they seemed to be able to avoid me no matter how stupid
and unpredictable my movements were.
Once I really did step the wrong way right into
Leavell's path. To my astonishment this lightning quick athlete was able to stop on a dime and change directions
without hurting me a bit. One moment he is ready to knock me
over, but in a blur Leavell spun and didn't even touch me. Amazing.
After that near miss, I decided it
would safer to just stand
still. It would easier to avoid me this way.
Then I noticed my friend Michael was laughing at me. That shamed me
into moving again. Now for a while I scurried around like a cockroach
trying to pretend like I was doing something. I noticed no one was even bothering to guard me.
Nor did anyone bother to pass me the ball.
It was like I wasn't really there.
|
Once a rebound came near me. I moved to get it,
but a man moving at the speed of light came out of nowhere and
snatched it out of the air. The ball had come within inches of
my grasp, but I never came close to touching it!
Now I began to get a sense of complete futility. No matter
what I did, I would have no effect on the outcome of this contest.
Then I began to feel worse when I realized that because of me, my team was forced to play 3 on 4. Why they had
even bothered to ask me to participate was a mystery I didn't have
time to meditate on. Although the thought crossed my mind, I
was too heavily involved in survival mode to think about it in any
detail.
Actually, despite the disadvantage named 'Rick', my team was doing pretty good. Thanks to me, they
had stacked the teams and put Murphy and Tomjanovich together along
with Meriweather and guess who. Murphy and Rudy T couldn't miss.
Playing make it-take it, the two superstars hit six shots in a row.
They were so good, even two guys couldn't stop them.
Still worried about getting knocked down by one of the
behemoths, it occurred to me to go over in the corner.
This turned out to be
a good move since it led to my only triumph
of the day.
Since it was a
"make it-take it"
game, we kept the ball for a while as my team scored several baskets. I even got a rebound as a missed shot caromed deep towards the corner directly to where I was standing
to avoid possible destruction.
Wow, a rebound! Over in the bleachers I smiled as Michael cheered and applauded my feat!
My joy was short-lived. Seeing Abdul
Aziz come out to challenge me for the ball, I panicked. The guy
was bigger than a mountain. I wanted to get to rid of the
ball as fast as I could. I tried to pass the ball
only to have it intercepted by his fast
hands. That was the opening the other time had been
waiting for. Thanks to my bad pass, the other team got the ball
for the first time that game. I frowned.
Now something really bad happened.
Joe Meriweather called to me and pointed to the man I was supposed to guard.
I looked and
felt a surge of hope - I was guarding Randy White,
the worst player on the Rockets, maybe even the entire NBA!! Oh
yeah!
To this day, I still regret the fact that I actually smiled when I
first saw whom I was guarding.
You would think after fearing for my
life I would have been humbled enough to see things clearly, but
I was so accustomed to seeing Randy White screw up in the NBA
games on TV that I thought I could match up with him.
To think I was arrogant enough to even remotely believe I had a chance… what
in the hell was I thinking?!
|
 |
I quickly discovered these guys do not have a heart. They immediately passed the ball to Randy White out at the foul line.
In other words, they were picking on me,
the weakest link. I got down in a defensive crouch. I
noticed he wasn't that much taller than me. I was ready for
him. Bring it on.
The moment
White received the ball, he drove past me before I could even take a step.
He was so fast I wasn't even able to
slide my foot before he was
past me. I watched in despair as he made
an easy lay-up.
My eyes bulged in shock. The athletes laughed at my
obvious disbelief. They
were sharing a little joke at my expense.
I frowned to myself. I was
really embarrassed. This guy was faster than lightning itself.
How could he appear to be so slow on TV?
It was make it-take it. They still
had the ball. Meanwhile Randy brought the ball back out to the top. He passed the ball to me so I could give it back to him as a way of initiating the next play.
Randy passed the ball to a teammate, cut to the basket, received the ball and dunked it in one gigantic burst of power.
I stared in shock. No one had ever dunked on me before.
This display of raw power was stunning. He had risen from
the earth into the sky faster and higher than any human being I
had ever seen close-up. This was unbelievable.
Holy Guacamole! This guy was super-human!
I looked at him again. Randy White wasn't that much taller than I was, but it appeared he could jump at least
three feet higher
than I could.
|
 |
Not only did I feel slow, now I realized how
limited my jumping ability was. Like the previous play,
this dunk had happened so fast I could
barely react.
Maybe I had taken one step
this time before it was over, but I was so
obviously out of my league I was deeply ashamed. These people
had to be extraterrestrial. Like Superman,
they from another planet
without gravity!!
After the dunk, Randy White high-fived a teammate, came over, slapped me on the butt, and flashed a grin wider than the Cheshire Cat.
As he handed me the ball again,
Randy displayed an expensive row of gold-capped teeth that would have had Goldfinger salivating.
I had been "Yo-ed" to the Nth degree.
I couldn't believe how good Randy
White was!
Fortunately God in
His Infinite Mercy decided I had learned my lesson. I was
spared further humiliation when the missing Rocket, a guy
named Johnny Egan, showed up to take my place.
I have never been so happy to see someone in my life!!
I quickly gave up my spot and ran to the bleachers as fast as I could.
I just wanted to get out of there.
As I returned to the bleachers with my tail curled between my legs,
one thought crossed my mind, "Okay, God, you made your point."
I wasn't bitter, just chastened. I almost felt like the
Universe had decided I needed to be taught a lesson in humility.
Well, I got the message.
Michael asked me how I felt. I shook my head in disbelief.
All I could think of was how I had trash-talked Randy White while the Rockets warmed up and how easily Randy White had beaten me
to the basket two times in a row.
I was totally helpless to stop him.
Henceforth these men were superhuman.
Even the least talented among these
athletes was still
an Olympic God compared to pathetic
little me. I was mortal, they were
immortal.
This was the day that my daydreaming about
basketball came to an end. No more goofy dreaming about basketball!!
I told Michael as long as I lived I would never criticize another professional athlete again.
Furthermore, from that point on, I don't
ridicule or criticize people with ability similar to mine
either. Since that day, I have made a point never to show
up a fellow athlete. Don't misunderstand, I still compete
hard. But there is a difference. Once in a while, I
will make a good shot despite my opponent's best effort to stop
me. So what? I just walk away without a smile.
I am a humble man.
In the cosmic scheme of things, there will never be any reason
again to make fun of anyone.
|
 |
|
|
