Kareem Abdul-Jabbar - Coach Wooden and Me

Copyright 2017 by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar

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First Edition: May 2017

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ISBNs: 978-1-4555- 4227-7 (hardcover), 978-1-4555- 4225-3 (ebook), 978-1-4555-7124-6 (large print), 978-1-5387-6011-6 (signed edition)

E3-20170403-JV-NF

To Coach Woodens family from somebody who humbly appreciates the fact that I was allowed to become part of your family.

I n 2016, I stood in the East Wing of the White House beside twenty of the most famous and accomplished people in the world, all of whom I greatly admired. Among them were Tom Hanks, Robert Redford, Diana Ross, Michael Jordan, Ellen DeGeneres, Bill and Melinda Gates, Bruce Springsteen, Cicely Tyson, and Robert De Niro.

And one other guy.

The president of the United States, Barack Obama.

President Obama bestowed the Presidential Medal of Freedom on each of us, though when he came to me, I had to stoop down so he could reach my neck. He gave brief, complimentary speeches about each of our contributions to America. When President Obama spoke of me, his lavish praise made me squirm a little.

Awards ceremonies always make me uncomfortable. While I appreciate being acknowledged for 1) having done something relevant and 2) still being alive, theres an element of self-aggrandizement that is attached to the ceremony that embarrasses me. I am by nature very shy and dont enjoy talking about myself. Im that guy at the party sitting behind the potted palmas long as its a really big potted palm. What I appreciated most about what President Obama said was that I wasnt up there just because of my basketball career, but also because of my seventeen years of writing books and articles about social injustice toward people of color, women, the LGBT community, Muslims, and immigrants (he is advocating on Capitol Hill or writing with extraordinary eloquence about patriotism). Then another thought hip-checked in: If there wasnt social injustice, would I even be getting this medal? Was I somehow benefiting from social injustice? What kind of monster does that?!

Who has such thoughts while receiving the countrys highest civilian award? Why couldnt I just be grateful, smile, and think, Presidential Medal of Freedom. Cool.

President Obama closed the ceremony by saying, Everyone on this stage has touched me in a powerful personal way. These are folks who have helped make me who I am. Thats when I knew exactly why I felt so uncomfortable.

Someone was missing.

The man who, more than anyone else in my life, was responsible for me standing in the exact same spot where he had stood thirteen years earlier. Thats when President George W. Bush awarded Coach John Wooden the same Presidential Medal of Freedom I had just received. I could still remember what President Bush had said about Coachs relationship with his students: Coach Wooden remains a part of their lives as a teacher of the game, and as an example of what a good man should be.

I looked out at the audience applauding us and wished Coach were among them. His guiding hand at UCLA had only been the start. After that, we developed a friendship that grew closer and closer over the next four decades. We celebrated our triumphs together and helped each other through dark tragedies together. As I grew up, played professional basketball, married, had children, lost loved ones, retired, and changed careers, I never grew away from Coachs influence. Even on that day, the medal hanging heavily around my neck, I knew what he would have said: Kareem, dont overthink it. Enjoy the moment. Dont let yesterday take up too much of today.

I looked down the line of the wonderfully successful people on either side of me and wondered if each of them had a Coach Wooden who, to quote President Obama, helped make me who I am. I hoped so, because without Coach, my life would have been so much less. Less joyous. Less meaningful. Less filled with love.

Later, at the reception for the recipients, my business manager Deborah Morales asked me how it felt to receive such a prestigious honor.

Cool, I said, remembering my earlier admonishment to relax.

She laughed. Some writer, if thats all you can come up with.

I thought for a moment, looking for something pretentiously writerly. With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come. Im feeling mirthy.

Deborah touched my arm. Youre thinking of him, arent you? Of Coach.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. How did you know?

How could you not be? He helped make this happen. She gestured around the room full of famous people to indicate this. Plus, youre quoting something literary, just like he always did. Whenever you do that, youre thinking of him.

J ohn Wooden died in 2010. So why did I wait seven years to write this book?

Because of something he taught me over the nearly fifty years of our friendship. When I played for Coach Wooden at UCLA, he was very hands-on. He would follow us up and down the sideline barking encouragement and instructions. Then he would pull an individual aside to demonstrate a shot, a pick, a fake. His face always seemed inches from ours. But sometimes he would go all the way to the top rafters of Pauley Pavilion, where all he had to do was raise his arm to touch the ceiling. From there he would look down on us like a benevolent god, watching us scuttle up and down the court. He liked the fresh perspective that gave him. A way to see the big picture. Watch how all the moving parts worked together.

Thats what I had to do with our many years of friendship. I had to climb over the seven years since his death to view what it all meant, measure how great his impact on me and others was. This book is that view. I could have written a book about him after I left UCLA. Or after I retired from the pros. Or after Coach died. But those books wouldnt have been this book. This book spans almost fifty years of an evolving friendship seen through the eyes of a man who is old enough and mature enough to understand the truth about our relationship, even when I was too young at the time to recognize those truths myself.