Dr. J and me

“Goals are dreams with a time limit.” – Julius Erving

This is very personal.

I owe my start in basketball to my uncle Romy Unson, my mother’s youngest brother. He was nine years older than me, and thus was a teenager when I was a kid. I tagged along to his neighborhood games and learned the rudiments. I was also a Crispa fan, admiring the creativity of Freddie Hubalde and Philip Cezar. But I became a lifelong basketball lover because of Julius Erving, the inimitable Dr. J. He could fly, create on the fly, and was fly. Most of all, he gave youngsters of my generation permission to be free to express themselves through basketball. He was an artist. More importantly, he probably saved professional basketball as we know it.

A native New Yorker, Erving was a Rucker Park legend with massive hands, wearing a cloud-like Afro. He was virtually unstoppable on offense, and was a monster rebounder. Many tried to stick monikers on him but he preferred “The Doctor” because he operated on his opponents. He elevated an entire league. True, the American Basketball Association had Artis Gilmore, David Thompson, the first pro three-point shot and other wild rules. But it was Dr. J who carried the ABA into mass consciousness. He had the style of Walt Frazier and the leaping ability of Connie Hawkins. In its short lifespan, the ABA was his playground as a New York Nets forward: two-time champion, three-time Most Valuable Player, two-time playoffs MVP, five-time ABA All-Star, one-time All-Defensive Team member. But it was his flamboyance, flair and elegance that attracted even NBA fans. The 1976 ABA Slam Dunk contest, the showdown between Erving and Thompson, was the precursor of all basketball side events to come. The Doctor took off from the 15-foot line for the first time ever, and slammed it home. Game over.

Eventually, the NBA absorbed the four sustainable ABA teams just to acquire Erving: the Nets, the Indiana Pacers, San Antonio Spurs and Denver Nuggets. Julius was on the cover of Sports Illustrated with Boston Celtics center Dave Cowens. It was history in the making, more so because the NBA was also struggling to get attention. Public perception was not good. Games were shown on delayed telecast late at night. Erving would change that. Crowds would go to games early just to watch him dunking on the lay-up line, more so when he was traded to the stacked Philadelphia 76ers. The league was regaining respect.

Meanwhile, in Cubao, Quezon City, my adolescent self was Dr. J of the driveway, with my overused red number 6 Sixers jersey. It didn’t matter that I was the wrong color or skinny. I was dunking on a nine-foot rim, lofting finger rolls over imaginary defenders. I could do anything, overcome any problem, soar over all the stress of transferring schools, catching up on academics, domestic problems. I would get lost in that world. Dr. J got me through so many hard times. I was in awe of him, often getting up early morning to watch the games on the hazy Far East Network – Philippines. This was my freedom. Here, I was not frail, sickly or inadequate. Here, I belonged. Here, I could be a hero, too.

Julius transcended basketball and flowed into mainstream culture. Grover Washington Jr. even wrote a song for him, “Let It Flow (For Dr. J)”. He was the first player to have his own signature sneaker. He lifted the NBA out of the depths into a position where Magic Johnson, Larry Bird and later, Michael Jordan could carry it to the next level. How I rejoiced when Julius was named MVP in 1981, and even more after the Sixers traded for 1982 MVP Moses Malone. The good Doctor finally won the NBA championship in 1983, almost sweeping the playoffs. Sports Illustrated called his gravity-defying, gliding-behind-the-backboard reverse lay-up against the Los Angeles Lakers “the greatest hangtime of all time.” I still remember bawling at the league’s tribute to him during his last NBA All-Star Game in 1987. The love and respect the entire league showed him was palpable.

I guess this shows that we all need heroes, wherever we may find them. Athletes are role models, whether they agree to be or not. But we also have to be discerning, and admire them for the one thing that they do best, and not necessarily anything they do outside the lines. They stir our imagination, help us believe in ourselves. Dr. J was my hero. Who’s yours?