O’Donnell: Walton’s life touched by fun, Chicago, ‘fabulous’

ON A FRIDAY THE 13th — 2007 — Bill Walton was in town to work a Bulls-Hornets game for ESPN.

That morning in the Chicago Sun-Times, a long feature on young Luol Deng had fallen together nicely. With his amazing global journey from Sudan to Egypt to London to Duke to the Bulls, he wasn't a very hard subject to texturize.

During the game that evening, Deng did something of note. A short while later on press row, the writer's cellphone started buzzing.

There were multiple messages. The essence was, “Hey, Bill Walton just gave you a nice shoutout on national TV.”

After the game, The Insouciant went out of his way to track Walton down before he left the United Center. They were at best casual professional acquaintances with a lifetime log of three or four gig-related phone calls.

The writer quickly reintroduced himself and thanked the big fellow for his on-air kindness.

Walton looked down and for a moment, it almost seemed as if it were impressionist Frank Caliendo doing Bill Walton.

“But that piece was fabulous!” Walton said. “You got all of the Christian-Muslim background in from the Sudan and the racial mix in Brixton (London), near 'Electric Avenue.' I never would have known Deng was afraid of squirrels in closed spaces. How do you find out something like that?”

There was nothing else to do but chuckle.

LATER, THERE WAS ALSO NOTHING LEFT to do but shake the writing head in amazement.

That was Bill Walton. The same Bill Walton who decades before had been the most talented, polarizing new-wave basketball name on the planet.

When he arrived at UCLA in 1970, it appeared Walton was destined to be another vital topper in the endless NCAA championship machine of John Wooden.

And he was. But as his very public consciousness began to expand the general perception of the man, he entered a very different dimension. To many of his generation, he was brave, courageous and bold.

THAT'S WHY NEWS OF HIS DEATH Monday at age 71 could produce only another head shake at the moon. With his karmic tabs in this lifetime pure, how could his transition be anything but graced?

He wasn't raised to be one-dimensional. His father was a social worker. His mother was a librarian. The development of the capacity for independent thought was paramount in the Walton household.

Older brother Bruce Walton was big enough and tough enough to wind up playing three seasons as a reserve offensive tackle for Tom Landry's prime-time Dallas Cowboys.

Bill Walton's societal senses were developed along the brutal JFK assassination-Vietnam-Nixon presidency timeline. That compendium would either prove to bring out a progressive best try in an individual's psyche or a devolved and ultimately deadened political cynicism.

Walton chose the progressive. The basketball public had a very difficult time fully comprehending what he was all about. It was much easier to compartmentalize him as a one-toke West Coast counter-culturalist.

AT HIS ATHLETIC BEST, when his feet and ankles weren't betraying him, Walton was the most artistically rhythmed big man in the history of the game. His 73-game winning streak at UCLA was the first brave and strong indicator of that.

Even the 80-77 double overtime loss to North Carolina State in a 1974 NCAA men's semifinal had a grand cosmic residual. An 11-year-old jack rabbit in Wilmington, N.C. was watching his hero — David Thompson — win that game. Michael Jordan later said it was the most inspiring TV event he ever witnessed.

The crescendo of Walton's basketball showcasing came in the 1977 NBA Finals. The match was his Trailblazers vs. a freshly loaded Sixers ensemble that included Julius Erving, George McGinnis and Doug Collins.

When Philly opened a 2-0 lead, the series appeared over. But few banked on Walton's capacity to elevate his art and make running mates Lionel Hollins, Maurice Lucas, Dave Twardzik and Bob Gross dance-and-dart like Oregon fireflies.

PORTLAND SWEPT THE NEXT FOUR GAMES and won the title. Anyone wishing to see a phenomenal basketball aesthetic can YouTube any of those final four victories. Walton was the maestro and his keenly synchronized band played far above the NBA tree line.

Deepest Bulls fans will recall he also participated in the two most memorable short playoff series in Chicago franchise history.

The first came while en route to that 1977 championship. Ed Badger's Bulls opened their 1976-77 campaign 2-14 and finished with an unfathomable 20-4 rush.

Under ruling NBA playoffs format, the Bulls-Blazers opening series was best-of-three. Each team held home service and Walton and Co. beat Mickey Johnson, Artis Gilmore, Norm Van Lier and all, 2-1. Walton later said, “That one week was the most fun I ever had playing basketball.”

NINE YEARS LATER, he was a valued add-on to the 1985-86 Celtics. He called Red Auerbach before the season and took a pay cut of close to 70% — $800,000 — in search of a final NBA hurrah.

Boston finished the regular season 40-1 at home. Walton was Sixth Man of the Year. With mind sweepers like Larry Bird, Kevin McHale and Robert Parish up front, a deep playoffs run appeared inevitable.

It happened, but not before a young Mr. Jordan weaved his own black magic at Boston Garden. He scored 49 points in Game 1 on a Thursday night and followed with his landmark 63-point star-maker three days later.

The Celtics swept, 3-0. But there seemed to be an accent of regal convergence given the presence of Walton as the new era of No. 23 rolled toward Airy heights.

WALTON'S THREE-DECADE broadcast career was an unexpected addendum to his injury-riddled NBA years He overcame a stutter, thanks in part to the legendary Marty Glickman, who had to do the same.

Some called him “goofy.” But in a fair narrative about Walton behind a microphone, more appropriate phrasing would be “thoroughly alive” and “happily unpredictable.”

He lived an off-centric life, so much of it in full public view. To his credit, from UCLA forward, he never let a mere game completely define or limit him. He worked very hard for the charmed moments.

BRUCE WALTON — WHO DIED IN 2019 — may have summarized it best when he said, “Bill may not have walked on water. But he seemed to know where all of the steppingstones just below the surface were.”

A one-word epitaph for the life and times of the earthly Bill Walton?

How about, “Fabulous!”

Jim O'Donnell's Sports and Media column appears each week on Sunday and Wednesday. Reach him at jimodonnelldh@yahoo.com. All communications may be considered for publication.