‘Thank you for my life’: Bill Walton’s colleagues share their favorite memories

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The amazing thing about Bill Walton is that he led multiple lives.

Most of us lead only one.

Walton was an American original, the rare figure worthy of a documentary. He was, in no particular order, a legendary college basketball player for UCLA, an activist arrested for protesting the Vietnam War, an NBA champion for the Portland Trail Blazers, a fantastic backup to Robert Parish and Kevin McHale on the champion 1986 Boston Celtics, the father of four college basketball players and one NBA champion, a polarizing broadcaster who overcame a stutter to work for multiple decades, a tie-dye wearing Deadhead who loved Bob Dylan and Neil Young, and eventually, a cult figure for ESPN and the Pac-12 Network.

On Monday, Walton died at 71 after a battle with cancer. I spent late Monday contacting people in broadcasting who worked with Walton to share their favorite stories about him. Here are some of their memories of Walton’s World.

Dave Pasch, ESPN broadcaster

There are so many memories when you spend a lot of time with someone over a 12-year working relationship and even before that because we worked together during my first year on the NBA, in 2006, although Bill said that never happened (laughs).

The last game Bill and I did together, on Feb. 1 at USC, I think was a great example of just how fun Bill was. We were at USC, and George Lucas and “Star Wars” came up out of the blue. So I jokingly asked him how his audition went for Chewbacca. He said he auditioned for the role but didn’t get it (he called him “Chewybacca”), but that the character was fashioned in his likeness. We just completely made up the story, and the next day the story is all over the news. People Magazine even ran with it. Hollywood reporters were pulling up old quotes from Lucas about where he actually got the idea for Chewbacca just to counter our made-up story about Chewbacca being made in the image of Bill. He just went with it in the middle of a basketball broadcast, and no one else probably ever would do that.

I also remember our dinner together after the game. Turns out that would be the last time I saw my friend.

Jason Benetti, Fox Sports and Detroit Tigers broadcaster

My first thought when you asked me for my favorite memory of Bill Walton was this: “Please don’t put me in a binary world.”

In the times we got to work together, I’d sometimes ask Bill a question about his favorite something. He’d respond with some form of “this is not a binary world.” I’d laugh and needle him. He’d always choose not to choose. He saw the beauty in everything. No need for a ranking system. So, out of respect, I won’t choose a favorite.

I will say there were a few moments: The day he agreed to do the (Chicago White Sox at Los Angeles Angels) game in August of 2019 is one I will never forget. The game that night coincided with Bill’s grandson’s birthday. The Angels were gracious in giving Bill’s grandson and his grandson’s friends a suite so they could celebrate. I met Bill and a gaggle of kids in the parking lot of Angel Stadium. We all walked in together. Bill and I were running a little bit late to be in the clubhouse and we both knew it. Even so, Bill stopped before we got to the entrance of the stadium and asked the kids to stop as well. A month prior, Angels pitcher Tyler Skaggs passed away. There was a memorial at the front of the stadium. Bill turned to the kids and said, “Kids, we need to take a minute to think about Tyler.” There were no cameras around. The driving force was simply the overwhelming decency of a human being who felt the kids he was with should think about another human being. I’ll always carry that with me.

After that, I took Bill into the clubhouse. White Sox manager Rick Renteria carved out for Bill to give a pregame speech to the team. Without notes, Bill spent 15 minutes or so talking to the 2019 White Sox about teamwork, about John Wooden, and about Bill’s own struggles with injuries and depression. Bill’s speech was exceptional. Even players who didn’t know Bill before that day were cheering. Renteria asked me later if we could have Bill back, just to talk to the team. His speech was that powerful. Then the game happened and we went on a three-hour, 11-minute adventure without a seat belt. Those clips are all readily available.

Postgame, we interviewed James McCann — then-White Sox catcher. There was quite a bit of game-related stuff we could talk about with James on the headset down on the field. But among Bill’s first questions were: “What is that under your eyes?” (James was wearing eye black) and “What did you eat before the game?” Bill’s curiosity was boundless. That’s what made it such endless fun working with him. I tried to wrap up the interview with James several times and James wanted no part of my rip cord. At one point I jokingly said something like, “I tried to give you an out, the rest of this is on you.” And there they went, James and Bill, talking for about 10 minutes, as I recall. It was the longest, happiest postgame interview in the history of baseball television. I’ll always cherish that night and the range of humanity Bill had then, and always.

One last thing that I will always deeply appreciate about Bill. … I’m certain there are thousands of people whose life he changed, and that’s what makes him the cosmic force he is. I grew up with and still have cerebral palsy. On the “Throw it Down” NBA show one time, I was talking about a player coming back from an injury and how difficult it was for the player. Bill’s response, on air, with no hint of a chuckle or irony: “What do you know about physical challenges?”

He didn’t care what I looked like. He didn’t care what anyone looked like. He cared about what the world felt and thought and sensed. For that, and many other things, I will always love Bill Walton. He will remain my idol forever.

Burke Magnus, ESPN president of content

The first time I met Bill was at a LeBron James high school game against Oak Hill that we televised on ESPN (in 2002). Bill was an incredibly talented broadcaster— a special combination of fun, entertaining and authoritative based on his unique personality and knowledge of the game. Whenever our paths would cross, I was left feeling that this guy is truly special and unique. But most impactful was the fact that he always asked about how I was doing personally. It was never about him.

The last time I saw him was in Indianapolis at the NBA All-Star Game this past February. We were in the process of extending his contract with ESPN to continue for many years to come. The world needs more people like Bill. I’ll miss him dearly.

Now to the personal: I went to a Dead & Co. show with Bill and (Bill’s wife) Lori in June 2017 during the NBA Finals in the Bay Area. Bill asked if I could drive him to the show, and I said no problem. As we got closer to the venue, I asked Bill if he had any kind of parking pass or other kind of special access. To which he said no, but, “Don’t worry, it won’t be a problem.” As we rolled into the parking lot, at every single security checkpoint, Bill would simply roll down his window and say, “I’m Bill Walton and I’m here to see the Grateful Dead.” The security guards would then move the barriers and let us drive closer and closer. Quickly, we found ourselves backstage. The rest of that night was unbelievable as I felt like I had the ultimate ambassador taking me wherever I wanted to go. We went to several other shows together over the years, but that first one was magical, and I understood how much Bill was beloved by the Grateful Dead community.

Kenny Mayne, former ‘SportsCenter’ anchor

One of my favorite ESPN things was when Bill and I would be in a text exchange about something, anything. I would stand at my cubicle and announce, “This is a proclamation from Sir Bill Walton.” I’d then read his ridiculous yet amazing message to me and often later use part of it on the air in the show. My last text from him reads: “I love you, Kenny. I miss you. I salute you. I thank you. Shine on, carry on. With eternal gratitude and boundless everything, I thank you for my life. I’m the luckiest guy in the world, BW. From the bright side of the road.” He probably wrote similar things to others, and each one of us was made to feel uniquely special to him.

As I see all the tributes to Bill, I’m struck by the fact that mentions of his amazing basketball skills and career are few. He led such an interesting life and touched people in so many ways that the fact he was one of the best ever to play is a footnote. Bill was always so good to me and my family. He corrected me one night at his house in San Diego when I mentioned something about “my stepdaughter.” He said, “You have FOUR daughters. It’s not where you’ve been, it’s where you are.” I don’t think I’ve said “stepdaughter” since.

Jim Gray, Emmy Award-winning reporter

I don’t have just one favorite memory; I have a lifetime of them. For more than 30 years, I broadcast games with Bill, and to be with him was always the best of times. Every single time, we laughed — and we laughed hard. I don’t believe I can say that about anybody else in my life. He was brilliant, unique, and saw things so differently. He was encyclopedic. But most of all, he made it fun and entertaining. Just like John Madden, Charles Barkley and Bob Uecker. He was basketball’s version of having a good time and celebrating the game and everyone around him.

Bill was kind and generous, and he always had time for everyone. I never saw him in a hurry. He signed every autograph, took every picture, shook every hand, and genuinely looked everyone in the eye when he was speaking with them. He truly loved people. Everywhere he went, he was with Lori. He also always carried a big chair. No one will ever fill that seat. He was the best friend you could ever have.

Michael Molinari, Pac-12 Network producer

The “Pac-12 Network” Bill became different from the ESPN version. Both were unique and entertaining, but our version was a little more basketball-focused when necessary. Bill was one of the most well-read people I have ever met. I remember at our dinner in Las Vegas the night before the pandemic canceled the remainder of the Pac-12 tournament (in 2020), we had a 20-minute conversation about the pros and cons of the Electoral College while he drank tea and I unfiltered sake. (I held my own … for a while.)

Bill agreed to be the “conductor” for the open of our Pac-12 tournament two years ago. He spent about two hours working with a high school band on the shoot. Bill agreed to come in before and meet the kids for a pizza party. He signed autographs and took pictures. The entire process of creating that open will always be the most fun and memorable project I’ve worked on.

The most important aspect that I treasured about Bill was his curiosity and kindness. It was always about the other person. We had a runner on a show in Arizona who spoke with a pretty bad stutter. He came up to me and said he heard Walton also once had a stutter and did I think Bill would be willing to speak with him? I said I’m sure he would, but Bill had flown in early from a game the night before so it might be after the game or by phone. I watched on the monitor later after shootaround ended. The young man went up to Bill, and an exhausted Bill spent 35 minutes talking with him. I am privileged to have spent time in Walton’s World.

Ashley Adamson, Pac-12 Network host and reporter

I remember the first time I met Bill Walton. We were hosting a small chalk talk for sponsors in 2013 at the first Pac-12 men’s basketball tournament in Las Vegas. I had a script with a bunch of people I was supposed to thank before I introduced Bill. I got through, “Hello everyone, we are so happy to …” before he jumped in and said, “How happy are we, Ashley, to share this stage together! And to share our lives with all of these beautiful people! This is the Pac-12, this is the conference of champions!” For the next 30 minutes, he sat perched on a throne of five stacked chairs as he brought us into Walton’s World. It was the first of many master classes I saw him give on how to make a group of strangers feel like old friends.

Working with Bill Walton on a live game broadcast was a wild and unpredictable roller coaster, and no two rides were ever the same. The first game I worked with him, I was the sideline reporter. I came on camera ready for my opening hit, but as I sat there smiling and waiting for the toss, Bill kept talking. And talking. A full two minutes later, he ended up tossing to me by asking how many times I had gotten my hair cut in an airport.

Most people might not realize how much Bill really prepared for a broadcast. It didn’t always translate that way on TV, but that’s just because his preparation was different than everyone else’s. He would sit down with a sports information director at shootaround and ask all sorts of questions — almost none of them about basketball. He always wanted to know the back stories of where people grew up, or what they liked to eat, or who their favorite musician was. He went out of his way to learn about the volunteer assistant, the longtime usher, or the game clock operator. Many times he would decide to tell those stories during critical moments of a game which (at least according to my Twitter feed) could frustrate viewers. But he was always going to make sure the audience left with something they weren’t expecting to learn. He embodied my two favorite human traits: curiosity and enthusiasm.

Greg Gumbel, CBS broadcaster

The fact that Bill was so completely and totally unpredictable was what made him such a delight to listen to, to work with, and to be with. I remember we were doing an NBA game (for NBC) in Phoenix one Sunday afternoon. Charles Barkley was playing with the Suns and was ultimately forced to the baseline on a play. So Charles went up with hands in his face, his man defending the right-handed shot, and in mid-air, he switched the ball to his left hand, and hit the short jumper. I was anxious to make this point, but Bill was jabbering on about defensive posture and being alert. The Suns were halfway back upcourt before I finally got to say, “And he hit that shot with his left hand!” To which Bill replied, “Oh we can all do that.”

Ted Robinson, Pac-12 Network broadcaster

My home holds a shelf of books, for both my wife and myself, recommended by Bill. Very few have anything to do with sports. Our 12 years together likely contained 100 dinners, many with our wives. Assuming 200 hours of dining, there was no more than one hour devoted to talking basketball. Bill knew my wife, my children’s names, the number of grandchildren in my family, my hometown, my alma mater and most of my work history. Bill cared. His devotion to Lori was unshakeable. Both on and off the air, he referred to Lori as his “angel of mercy.”

The best quote on Monday was from Kareem Abdul-Jabbar: “He wasn’t happy unless he did everything he could to make everyone around him happy. He was the best of us.” My 12 years with Bill were the longest, strangest and most beautiful trip imaginable.

Tim Sullivan, Bill’s longtime ESPN producer

After almost all of our ESPN Pac-12 basketball broadcasts, there was a long line of fans for Bill that would form starting at the announce table and run 50 to 60 and sometimes even 100 people deep. One night, 25 minutes after a game, I went out to the court to see if Bill wanted to leave and get back to his hotel. He immediately waved me off, saying if these good folks would like to chat, he’d be here all night.

One man waiting in line caught my eye, about 70 years old, who was with his adult son. As he approached Bill, his son asked if his father could ask Bill a personal question (regarding) his health. Bill replied, “Of course, I have had 36 orthopedic operations. Please let me know how I can be of help to you.” Seeing the man was struggling a bit, Bill instructed me to get the man a chair. I placed it right in front of Bill. He listened to this man who needed a very specific procedure. Bill crossed his arms and leaned in, processing each word. After the gentleman was finished, Bill provided counsel and gave the man the name of a doctor who would be able to help. Months later, the man wrote to Bill and shared that, thanks to (Bill), he was on the mend and feeling much better.

Nothing gave Bill more satisfaction than helping others. He was an incredible life force. An amazing human with an incredible generous soul. Authenticity, integrity, honesty and warmth. I love him and will miss him dearly.

Mike Tirico, NBC Sports broadcaster

During my first season calling the NBA on ESPN and ABC, maybe the seventh or eighth game of my career, I was scheduled to call the (Toronto) Raptors at (New York) Knicks on New Year’s night 2003 at Madison Square Garden. As a kid who grew up in Queens, it was my first NBA game in the world’s most famous arena and enhanced by the first chance to work with the one-of-a-kind Hall of Famer Bill Walton. I hoped to have an early dinner near the hotel with Bill before the craziness of Manhattan on New Year’s Eve. But Bill had other plans. The group Phish was reuniting for the first time since 2000, and they were playing MSG. Even though it wasn’t Bill’s beloved Grateful Dead, he planned to be front and center. He invited me to come along, but I chose to stay back and prepare for the “big” game. Big mistake.

On air that night as only he could, Bill relished in the Phish reunion, harkened for the glory days of the Knicks, quoted the Dead, and took a novice NBA play-by-play guy on a random tour of the NBA yesterday, today and tomorrow. I listened and laughed as a wonderful on-air friendship began. Bill joined Tom Tolbert and me on the ABC pregame show all season before they called the lead game with Brad Nessler.

I had the great fortune of spending the last few years of their partnership getting to be the traffic cop with Bill and his longtime friend and foil Steve “Snapper” Jones. The laughter and humor on and off air will stay with me the rest of my life. “Throw it down, big fella! Let’s go! We’ve got a game!” I heard those phrases hundreds of times and I laughed and smiled just as much then as I do thinking about it today.

My last connection with Bill was a text May 4, about nine minutes after Mystik Dan won the Kentucky Derby. It read, in part: “Congrats on a great Kentucky Derby. Thanks for our lives. We miss you. We love you. Peace and Love. BW.”

go-deeper

GO DEEPER

Bill Walton was unique in media and life, with a message we all understood

(Top photo of Bill Walton and Ted Robinson, during a Pac-12 tournament game in 2018: Brian Rothmuller / Icon Sportswire via Getty Images)

First appeared on www.nytimes.com

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