Walton was one shot short of perfection

Jerry Norman was the lead assistant coach and chief recruiter under John Wooden, whose office door usually was open. One day, as the legend goes, Norman walked in and told Wooden he had seen one of the top players ever.

“But Jerry, we have Lew Alcindor,” said Wooden, referring to the man who had not yet changed his name to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.

Norman said, ”This guy could be better.”

Wooden said’ “Close the door.”

Maybe secrecy wasn’t required in recruiting Bill Walton to UCLA. He had grown up in the San Diego suburb of La Mesa, 120 miles south; as a kid he heard games on radio and had an older brother, Bruce, playing football at UCLA.

The story emerged with the announcement Monday that Walton, who met every expectation of basketball greatness and more, had died at age 71 after a long battle with cancer.

It may be an exaggeration to say Walton was one of a kind, but he definitely was unique, a star athlete — unquestionably one of the finest basketball players in history — who seemed as interested as those who watched the games as those who played them.

He was a person of his time, able to find a reason to open a discussion as well as find the open man. He took as much delight in passing the ball as shooting it.

Yes, as Walton, I’m a Bruin, but there are numerous reasons I grew to admire him — after first regretting I ever would have to deal with him as a journalist. 

He was never a difficult interview as Kareem in the Milwaukee days, but it was still tough. Walton would remain in the post-game shower seemingly until the water level dropped.

Maybe because he had a speech impediment and felt uncomfortable talking to people with microphones or notepads. But once he overcame that limitation, Walton was a gift. He would speak and talk about everything from defense on court to bike trips over the mountains. He was innately curious and became unhesitantly loquacious — as those who listened to his commentary for ESPN on college hoops would verify.

You wonder if the players of the 21st century, the ones who know him now for his observations, even have a clue how good, how efficient, how effective Walton was as a player. How he made 21 field goals in 22 attempts in an NCAA final, and how his Bruin teams won 88 games in a row, still a record.

As many big men, Walton was cursed with bone problems undergoing one surgical procedure on his feet after another. He wore sneakers out of necessity.  

He was a West Coast guy in philosophy as much as geography, and rued the dissolution of the Pac-12 Conference. 

Bill Walton was opinionated. Bill Walton was talented. That combination was enlightening and entertaining. And many NCAA tournaments ago, he was one basket short of perfection.