As published in The County Times (http://countytimes.somd.com) in July 2008
By Ronald N. Guy Jr.
Leonardtown MD, 19 June 1986: A 13-yr-old boy was enjoying his summer vacation like many of his
classmates, basking in the afterglow of his graduation from grade school and
nervously anticipating the beginning of high school later that summer. There was no reason to think this day would
start with anything other than a casual awakening from a long night’s sleep
sometime in late morning, ideally just in time for “The Price Is Right”. But this day had other plans. Sometime shortly after the ungodly teenage
hour of 9am, the boy’s little sister, knowing her brother was an endless sports
fan, burst opened the bedroom door and asked flatly, “Do you know someone named
Len Bias?” The boy, clearly irritated
both at the ignorance and timing of such a question, snapped, “Uhhh, yeah, he’s
only the greatest player in Terps basketball history!” Little sister’s innocent and unforgettable
reply: “He’s dead.”
It’s hard to do Len Bias, the basketball player, justice
with words. Time has faded the memories
of those who saw him and the two decades since his death have given rise to
generation of sports fan who only know the name and the legend. Bias was a taller, stronger and equally
athletic version of Michael Jordan. I’m
sure many will scoff at such a casual comparison to His Airness. So I’ll defer to legendary coach Mike
Krzyzewski who, when asked to name some opposing players who stood out in his
two-plus decades as head coach of Duke University named two: Michael Jordan and
Len Bias. He wasn’t just the best
player in Maryland basketball history; he’s on any reputable list of the
greatest players in the history of the Atlantic Coast Conference (ACC). After four stellar years at Maryland, Bias
was the 2nd overall pick in the 1986 NBA Draft. Two days later, with a blindingly bright
future before him, he died in a Maryland dorm room of cocaine
intoxication. Every year since, when
the calendar flips to June and with another edition of the NBA Draft pending,
Bias slips back into our consciousness, either from our own internal clock
cueing his memory or from an inevitable mention during NBA Draft coverage. This year felt eerily familiar. Like 1986, Boston won the NBA championship
before this year’s Draft; it’s first title since Bias’ death. It’s almost as if it took the Celtics 22
years to recover from the tragic loss of their next great player. Bias could have been the bridge from the
Larry Bird era into the next great period in Celtic lure. He could have been Boston’s answer to
Chicago’s Jordan. He could have been…
Bias has been dead now longer than he lived, yet this ghost
of a man still compels us to ask, “What could have been?” It’s almost as if we’re expecting, at any
minute now, that chiseled, 22-yr-old Lenny Bias to run out of the tunnel and
appear on the parquet floor of Boston Garden to answer that question. But Len’s gone and he left far too
early. Recalling the death of Len Bias
means different things to different people.
For the non-sports fan it was at least a terrible waste, the loss of a
young life with so much promise left unrealized. For me, it was the loss of my childhood sports hero. I was that 13-year-old boy whose little
sister woke him on that fateful June morning 22 years ago. Never again would I, or likely any my peers,
view sports through a child’s innocent eyes again. Suddenly it was a world of big business, big money and endless
temptation. In death Bias left us with
a lesson that couldn’t have been taught as well in life. Believe what you will about Bias’ drug
use. The naysayers will allege a young
man losing control, succumbing to a temptation accompanying his sudden fortune
and fame. I’ve heard enough from
reliable sources to believe his cocaine use was a rare, if not an isolated
incident, an example of a young man who suddenly had it all, believed himself
invincible, got caught up in the moment and made a tragic mistake. The death of Len Bias taught me all I needed
to know about drug use and cocaine. For
the young today, for who Bias is but a myth, heed his warning. Here was a man of unrivaled strength and
athleticism who performed super-human feats on the basketball court. Yet in death he proved as fragile, as human,
as any of us. The same heart that carried
him tirelessly through so many epic on-court battles was the same heart that
gave out under the strain of excessive cocaine use. It wasn’t cumulative; there was no gradual disintegration. It took but one bad decision. One bad decision and in a blink a shooting
star faded to black. That is Len Bias’
legacy, his lesson. The young are
naturally carefree, even reckless at times.
There are moments in a young person’s life when they are confronted with
circumstances that offer very divergent paths.
Perhaps it’s a high school or college party, where peers are
experimenting, as young folks often do, with sex, alcohol or drugs. Maybe it’s a decision to drive or rely on a
sober friend to get home after a few at the local bar. These are moments when Len Bias’ memory can
speak to us. In these moments, he has
never been far from my mind. Len Bias
taught me it takes only one lapse in judgment and any of us, even those that
seem immortal to impressionable young eyes, can leave behind loved ones
pondering that same question Maryland basketball fans have been asking for 22
years: “What might have been?”
Brian Tribble placed the 911 call the morning of Bias’
death. He pleaded with the dispatcher;
“This is Len Bias…you have to get him back to life…there’s no way he can
die.” His pitiful, desperate voice
captured the enormity of this possible tragedy. But the unthinkable happened: Bias did die. And in death he became a cautionary tale,
for countless future generations, of the price of a reckless decision. Rest peacefully Len…your lesson lives on,
but damn I still miss you.
No comments:
Post a Comment