Evanson: Bill Walton's passing offers an opportunity to celebrate the man beyond the basketball

Bill Walton is dead.

The former and forever Portland Trail Blazer passed away on May 27 at the age of 71. But while I never met the man in person and have only seen highlights of the player often described as generational, anyone familiar with “Big Red” either directly or indirectly knows that “alive” was the only way of describing him up to the second that he wasn’t.

"What I will remember most about him was his zest for life. He was a regular presence at league events — always upbeat, smiling ear to ear and looking to share his wisdom and warmth. I treasured our close friendship, envied his boundless energy and admired the time he took with every person he encountered.

"As a cherished member of the NBA family for 50 years, Bill will be deeply missed by all those who came to know and love him."

That’s what NBA Commissioner Adam Silver said about the basketball Hall of Famer as part of a statement in the wake of his death, and a simple Google search will lead you to dozens of similar tributes as people who knew or simply encountered him paid their respects to the former basketball great.

But while on the court is where he made a name for himself, it’s off of it that he became the friend to whomever wanted a word, a photo, or an entertaining minute from the guy who always seemed to have one for anyone interested.

Amongst the tributes flooding television and social media Monday as word of the 6-foot-11 center’s death made the rounds, were stories, pictures and videos from Walton’s past teammates, colleagues at places like ESPN, NBC or Turner Sports, and famous journalists who either covered or knew the man through avenues within or surrounding the world of sport.

But the most powerful and telling homages came not from the notable who knew or had met him before, but rather the obscure who were meeting or had met him for the first time.

By all accounts, Walton wasn’t concerned with who you were or what you had done as a precursor to his time, but rather just that you were, and what you were doing in those seconds or minutes you were taking to speak with him.

In most cases, encounters with the famous for everyday schleps like you and I are awkward and mostly business-like: “we” don’t know what to say, and they’ve said what they likely will on countless occasions.

Yet Walton was different. He seemed not only to have time for strangers, but also a similar level of interest in them.

Big Red’s time in Portland was complicated. In 1974, the Trail Blazers made the UCLA product the first pick in the NBA Draft, and three years later he delivered them and the city it’s first and only NBA championship. But, when injuries hampered and ultimately ended his 1978 season prematurely, a disagreement between he and the organization regarding the handling of his foot injury led to the league MVP sitting out the 1979 season, and ultimately signing with the then San Diego Clippers as a free agent a season later.

In 2009, upon his return to receive the Governor’s Gold award, given annually to people or organizations who have made great contributions to the state, Walton lamented the way things ended in the Rose City and said so to a group of reporters prior to a Blazers game.

"I'm here to try and make amends for the mistakes and errors of the past", he said. "I regret that I wasn't a better person. A better player. I regret that I got hurt. I regret the circumstances in which I left the Portland Trail Blazers family. I just wish I could do a lot of things over, but I can't. So, I'm here to apologize, to try and make amends, and to try and start over and make it better."

That wasn’t a hard sell for true fans of the team, after-all, this was the guy who brought them a title, famously rode his bike through the streets of Northwest Portland en route to games at the Memorial Coliseum, and waxed poetic about former teammates like Dave Twardzik and Maurice Lucas — the latter of which he named his son Luke after.

But it wasn’t as easy for some, who remember Walton suing the organization, his political protests, and his statement denouncing the United States Government and FBI as part of a 1975 San Francisco news conference in defense of friends, Jack and Micki Scott, who were in the FBI’s crosshairs for harboring members of the Symbioses Liberation Army.

Walton asked the world to “stand with us in the rejection of the United States government” while also calling the FBI “the enemy.”

The organization didn't like that, but they and most of those people however eventually came around on the complicated figure, and to an extent accepted him for who he was and had become since his youthful days in a Trail Blazers uniform: a complex figure wrapped in a seemingly simple, broken, and friendly package.

Bill Walton is gone, but he will never be forgotten. He was an undoubtedly great player, later a quality, fun, and philosophical broadcaster, and by so many accounts a joyous, caring, and fun-loving man to be around. The world could use a few more of those guys, but, sadly, there will only be one Big Red — rest in peace.