Recently, I have been telling a story about the most wonderful experience in my life. I was lucky to have grown up in the 80’s in Boston. The Celtics were my team and they were my Gods. Larry Bird, Kevin McHale, Chief, Cornbread Maxwell, and Dennis Johnson. DJ was my guy. I loved his tenacity, grit and basketball awareness. Those no-look passes to Larry Bird down low are as clear in my mind as if it were 1986. I still remember Johnny Most, "There's a steal by Bird, underneath to DJ!" Who always drew the defensive assignment on Michael Jordan or Magic? Dennis Johnson. It was because of him that I worked like hell on my defense.
In 2005, I boarded a flight from São Paulo to Miami. Like always, I was full of anxiety and itching to get home. As people filed in, I started playing my game of Seat Roulette, “That person, no, that one no, maybe that one, DEFINITELY not that one.” Some people, unfortunately, look like science projects gone bad and you definitely don’t want them sitting next to you for eight hours.
I had noticed an awful lot of tall guys with USA Basketball jackets coming down the aisle. I thought to myself, “That’s pretty cool, USA basketball on my flight.” It was not going to make me suddenly rich or famous but possibly worthy of a trip anecdote. I recognized maybe one or two guys. Then, suddenly, time slowed down. The angels sung. There he was, Dennis Johnson, entering to economy class.
I quickly put my head down. I was nervous. I thought to myself, “OH MY GOD IT’S DJ, IT’S DJ, OH MY GOD.” I tried to grab my cell phone to call someone. I dropped the phone. I bent over to pick it up. My hands were trembling, palms sweating. I got my phone, looked up, looked left, and there, in all his glory, was Dennis Johnson in the seat next to mine, the Angels were holding the high note. Again, I looked down, left, right, left right. What was my name? Could I form vowels? I had Parkinsons. I felt faint.
Dennis Johnson tapped me on the shoulder and I passed out. When I came to, he spoke and simply said, “I’m sorry I’m a pretty big guy. If I fall asleep and you need to get up, don’t hesitate, shake me, elbow me, it’s not a problem.” I tried to respond. My mouth opened at least. All I could manage was a grunt and a head nod.
I slowly regained control of my muscles and my mind. I turned back to the TV screen for a second then blurted out as quickly as I could, “Mr. Johnson, I am straight, but really you were my hero and my idol growing up, I loved watching you, the way you played, your intensity, your awareness, your passing, your defense. I copied all of your moves. I had posters of you in my room. I even know why you spin the ball before a foul shot. You have no idea what I am going through right now having you sitting next to me.”
His reaction was stunning. All he said was, “Thank you. I appreciate that.” I was calming down, quickly becoming a 34 year old man again and not some 12 year old school girl at a New Kids on the Block concert. We then chatted, the basic chat one does on the plane. As we taxied and took off, we went from chat to conversation. He talked to me about Robert, Larry, Kevin, KC, as if I were on a first name basis with these guys as well. I felt as if I had been part of the Celtics in the mid 80’s. It was so cool! DJ told me about his goal to one day coach in the NBA. He had recently accepted a new job to coach some team in Texas and had to leave Florida.
Then came an even more incredible move. DJ asked me what I did for a living and so I explained it. I remember he told me that it was nice to hear about things other than basketball and how lucky I was to travel so much. He asked me about my family and how they deal with me being away. At that point I felt at liberty to go even further and asked him for advice, for at the time I was coaching high school basketball. He shared some pointers and drills that I could implement. By the time dinner was over, I felt like we had become friends. At the end of our flight, we shook hands and I expressed to him once again, the incredible luck in meeting my childhood idol and the joy in talking to him. I wished him luck and he thanked me. For some hours, to me, he was Dennis Johnson the man, down to earth, considerate, and humble.
I had been given a gift that became even greater because in early 2007, Dennis Johnson suffered a massive heart attack and died while coaching practice for his team in Austin, Texas. He never made it to the NBA as he had told me he wanted on that flight from Brazil. Larry Bird called him the greatest basketball player he had ever played with.
To me, Dennis Johnson is my hero and my idol because he was simply a good man.
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