Julius Erving – Memphis Flyer

Among the hundreds of Memphis sporting events I’ve attended, one of the most memorable took place on January 19, 2009, at FedExForum. The Grizzlies hosted the Detroit Pistons in the franchise’s seventh-annual Martin Luther King Day game. Julius Erving was honored before the tip-off, so there was basketball majesty in the building. But the day lives on in my memory more for its place in time than for anything that happened on the hardwood.

The event took place the day before Barack Obama was inaugurated as America’s 44th president. Erving got some big cheers, as did second-year point guard Mike Conley. But the loudest applause that afternoon came during a video tribute, not to Dr. King, but to the man who would become this country’s first black president. It was extraordinary to absorb. A basketball game scheduled to honor this country’s patron saint of civil rights — a few short blocks from where he died — merely hours before a black man would take the highest office in the land.

There was togetherness that day at FedExForum, and not the typical, cheer-the-home-team synchronicity. As at every Grizzlies game, the crowd was majority white. And that crowd seemed to recognize a larger togetherness, one that stretched, well, from sea to shining sea. We all cheered the moment in time, the moment in American history.

I thought of that day Sunday night when the Grizzlies hosted Chicago in this year’s MLK Day game. ESPN had moved the game up a day, into a prime-time slot, a move that backfired when an NFL playoff game was pushed back into the same broadcast window. Eight years have been good to the Grizzlies, though, with six straight playoff appearances and players who now feel as much like family as numbers on a roster: Zach Randolph, Marc Gasol, Tony Allen. And Conley, owner of the fattest player contract in NBA history.

But what will Inauguration Day this year bring? There was no video presence for Donald Trump during Sunday’s game. And any sense of togetherness — “from sea to shining sea” — seems as distant as Vince Carter’s prime. The Grizzlies lost a close one to the Bulls, just as they fell to the Pistons eight years ago. But the result didn’t matter on January 19, 2009. None of us cared as we left the building. There was larger inspiration to be found.

Today? Every Grizzlies win serves a purpose needed more than ever, that of distraction. Of joy, if for just that night. If we can’t find togetherness as a country — perhaps that’s too ambitious — let’s at least find it with a team we cheer. And hope for better days ahead.

• Wednesday should be a good day for Memphis baseball fans with long memories. In his tenth year of eligibility, Tim Raines is all but certain to be elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame. The offensive catalyst for some fine Montreal Expos teams in the 1980s, Raines is fifth in baseball history with 808 stolen bases. He also starred in 1979 for the Memphis Chicks (Montreal’s Double-A affiliate at the time), batting .290 and stealing 59 bases for a team that made the Southern League playoffs. Raines would become the first former Memphis player to be inducted into the Hall of Fame since Gary Carter in 2003.

• Two years ago in this space, I made the case that Tom Brady is the first one-man dynasty in the history of American team sports (January 26, 2015). This Sunday, Brady and his New England Patriots will play in their sixth consecutive AFC Championship. It will be the 11th AFC title game for Brady in his 16 seasons as the Patriots’ starting quarterback. (His 11th in 15 seasons if we exclude the 2008 campaign, most of which Brady missed with a knee injury.)

This level and length of contention for NFL championships can be matched by only one other franchise. Over the course of 17 seasons (1966-82), the Dallas Cowboys played for the NFL or NFC Championship 12 times. During that period, four quarterbacks started those games: Don Meredith, Craig Morton, Roger Staubach, and Danny White. That lengthy era of success led to the Cowboys being tagged “America’s Team” by NFL Films. What does that make Tom Brady today?

Joaquin Andujar died last week, and a slice of my childhood died with him. Andujar was a very good — not great — pitcher for 12 major-league seasons, most notably five with the St. Louis Cardinals. He won Games 3 and 7 of the 1982 World Series to help St. Louis to its first championship in 15 years. (My mom and I watched Andujar help the Cardinals clinch the National League pennant in Game 3 of that year’s National League Championship Series in Atlanta.) He won 20 games for the Cardinals in both 1984 and 1985, becoming only the second Cardinal pitcher (after Bob Gibson) to win 20 games and a Gold Glove in the same season.

But Andujar is best remembered — by baseball fans of a certain age or interest level — for the character he played as “One Tough Dominican,” a nickname he gave himself, and one of the best self-applied tags in the sport’s history. Andujar would point his finger — in the form of a pistol — at a hitter after striking him out. He was as emotive on the mound as Hall of Fame linebacker Lawrence Taylor was on the gridiron. Andujar played angry. And at times, a little crazy. A switch-hitter (at least, he claimed), Andujar would bat right-handed against righties and vice versa, with no consistency. He famously said the game of baseball could be summarized with one word: “Youneverknow.”

Andujar’s final act with the Cardinals is likely the picture most casual fans had in their minds last Tuesday when his death — at age 62 from complications caused by diabetes — was announced. Called on by Cardinal manager Whitey Herzog to pitch in relief during Game 7 of the 1985 World Series, Andujar personified his team’s — and a fan base’s — meltdown in the aftermath of an umpire’s blown call that impacted the previous game. With that very umpire (Don Denkinger) behind the plate, Andujar was a lit fuse, and shortly after taking the hill, charged the plate, ready to fight Denkinger and any Kansas City Royal interested in joining the fray. It was ugly, and Herzog should be blamed, to this day, every bit as much as Andujar. Fiercely devoted to his manager, Andujar would not go quietly. Herzog knew this. The pitcher was traded to Oakland less than two months later and won a total of 17 games over his last three seasons.

Andujar’s passing reminds me how precious the memories of our favorite teams become, and how those memories keep the teams alive in our hearts long after the athletes who made them have moved on. Andujar’s catcher in 1982, Darrell Porter, died in 2002. His partner in the Cardinals’ starting rotation, Bob Forsch, died shortly after throwing out a first pitch at the 2011 World Series in St. Louis. These losses grow heavy on a fan’s heart. Not just sorrow for the loss of life, but for the further distance from memories cherished — and still very much alive — in a fan’s heart.

• Long before LeBron James joined Dwyane Wade in South Beach for a championship quest, Moses Malone left Houston for Philadelphia to join Dr. J and create one of the NBA’s most memorable one-season champions. The great Malone — among my Rushmore of NBA centers, along with Bill Russell, Wilt Chamberlain, and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar — died Sunday in Virginia at the age of 60. (The cause of death has yet to be determined.) When he left Houston for Philly in 1982, Malone was already a two-time MVP and the 76ers had reached the Finals three times with the legendary Julius Erving, only to fall short each time.

In 1983, they won 65 games and went 12-1 in the playoffs, sweeping the Lakers in the Finals (the very team that had beaten the Sixers in 1980 and ’82), and very nearly fulfilling Malone’s famous prediction of three straight Philly sweeps (“Fo, fo, fo.”). I’m not sure any major American team championship can be connected more directly to a single human being than that ’83 NBA title and Moses Malone. The finest compliment I can pay a current Memphis Grizzly is to say there are times Zach Randolph reminds me of Moses Malone. May the Chairman of the Boards rest in peace.