Tag Archives: Lakers

Ball Drive Cannot Fail Thanks to Givers

by Woody

“The gift is to the giver and comes back most to him,” wrote the wise, and Santa Claus-bearded, Walt Whitman. “It cannot fail.”

Sometimes the gift that comes back is a sweet memory, as Joe Paul can attest after giving 10 basketballs to “Woody’s 2023 Holiday Ball Drive” for local disadvantaged youth.

Specifically, Joe gave Mikasa brand balls, recalling fondly: “When I was a little kid, I got a rubber Mikasa basketball every year for Christmas. I can still remember the squeaking noise the rubber made on the wood floor on the rare occasions I got to play indoors. Usually, I was on the outside courts or in my backyard counting down the final seconds and taking the last shot for the Lakers in the NBA finals. By Christmastime of the next year, I had worn off all the rubber nubs and the ball was perfectly smooth.”

This Christmas promises to create countless similar happy memories thanks to generous givers like Joe and…

Kym King donated 10 basketballs, as did a person wishing to be anonymously recognized as “Basketball Jones,” and 10 more came from the Lewis family of Jan, Tom, Cory, Emily, and Maddy.

Representing opposite bookends of life, Nick Sarris gave 41 assorted smiles “in memory of baby Sienna” and Rebecca Fox donated two soccer balls “in memory of Arlys Tuttle, a dear friend and the beloved matriarch of the Tuttle family” who passed away recently at age 101.

The Hein family of Chris, Julie, Audrey and Howie gave 25 assorted balls and Sally and Tom Reeder donated 13 more “including one basketball because that’s how the whole thing started.”

Terry and Draza Mrvichin gave five basketballs; Nita Perkins dished out four; Signe Smale gave three; Scott and Randi Harris assisted with two; and Dennis Jones, Susan Adamich, and Kris Young contributed one each.

Jim Parker, my ol’ sports colleague, donated six balls as did Lynn Kenton, noting: “I hope these will make it to some deserving kids and make a difference in their lives.” To which I reply: They will and they will.

“In memory of Tim Fahringer ‘Ute9’, a loyal friend and teammate, VHS Class of 1980,” an anonymous benefactor gave a baker’s dozen of smiles while Kelly Lanier gave five more in honor of her recently deceased mother, Judy Lautenschleger.

Alan and Kathy Hammerand kicked in three each soccer balls, footballs, and basketballs; Olivia Reddy-Daly assisted with the same triple trifecta; and so did Don and Lynne Steensma.

Paul and Patty Schuster contributed five basketballs in memory of Charlie Feyh, “an instrumental and influential coach for our youngest daughter during her formative years,” and five soccer balls “to acknowledge the great coaching our older daughter received at Buena High School.”

Jeff Barks passed in eight balls, Sherrie Basham gave six, James Barney added three, and Allison Johnson donated two basketballs in honor of “my brother Michael Demeter who played basketball for CLU and is a very generous person.”

Dave Stancliff, my first newspaper boss, donated one basketball, noting: “I still remember getting my first ball on my fifth Christmas and going over to a nearby school that had an outside court. It was just me that morning. I heaved the ball towards the hoop … and missed, and missed again and again, for what seemed like hours. When I finally made a basket, I was sold. This was going to be my game. Sadly, old age and injuries keep me off the courts these days, but I still play vicariously in every Lakers game.”

There is still time to become an MVP – Most Valuable Philanthropist – by dropping off new balls at Jensen Design & Survey at 1672 Donlon St., Ventura CA 93003 (weekdays from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. through Dec. 11); or have online orders shipped to this same address; and I will take it from there. The Thousand Oaks Goebel Adult Community Center also has a bin for ball collection.

And please be sure to email me at woodywriter@gmail.com about your gift so I can add your generosity to this year’s tally and thank you in an upcoming column.

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Imagining Kobe’s Lost Tomorrows

by Woody

FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM: @woodywoodburn

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Kobe’s Tomorrows

That Will Never Come

Four times Kobe Bryant held a newborn daughter when she first came into the world, as it should be for a father.

Last Sunday, as it never should be for any daddy, he held one of his girls – 13-year-old Gianna – as she left this world.

At least that is how I imagine the final moments, perhaps mere seconds, transpired as the helicopter carrying Kobe, Gianna and seven other living souls fatally crashed in the morning, in the fog, into a Calabasas hillside.

I imagine that, if the seatbelts allowed, Kobe leaned over and wrapped his long, strong arms around his precious daughter and held her tight in the hands that used to powerfully dunk a basketball.

I imagine this not out of morbidity, but because my heart wishes to believe it. Tenderness before the tragedy.

I imagine, if there was time as the unspeakable horror unfolded, Kobe spoke: “I love you, Gigi.” And I imagine, even through terrified tears, she said: “I love you, Daddy.”

Kobe Bryant and daughter Gianna

I imagine that as he hugged Gianna, Kobe hoped – no, prayed, for he was a religious man – his 41-year-old body would superhumanly serve as a shield to save his little girl.

If there was more time, or perhaps a few seconds impossibly slowed seemingly into years, a million memories flashed through Kobe’s mind. If so, I imagine none of them were of his two decades of supernova greatness in the NBA; not his five NBA titles and two Olympic gold medals; not his 81-point night or career farewell 60-point performance; not his singular honor of having two Lakers jersey numbers – 8 and 24 – retired.

No, I imagine Kobe’s earthly farewell memories would have been of his wife, Vanessa, and their four daughters: Natalia, 17; Gianna; Bianka, 3; and Capri, born last summer. Perhaps he recalled the couple’s first date; saw the girls’ first smiles, first words, first steps; relived his last kisses from all five.

I imagine similar image collages for the other victims: for John Altobelli, 56, his wife Keri, 46, and their daughter Alyssa, 13; for Sarah Chester, 45, and her daughter Payton, 13; for Christina Mauser, 38; and for pilot Ara Zobayan, 50. I cannot fathom the measure of bereavement felt by their loved ones.

Nor can I imagine the grief of Vanessa, losing a child and a husband; of Natalia losing her younger sister and her dad; Bianka losing one of her big sisters and her dad; Capri losing both a big sister and a dad she will never know.

I imagine in a blur of memories, Kobe saw his girls’ birthday parties and Christmas mornings past; saw his honeymoon and family vacations; maybe saw his younger self teaching his girls to swim or ride bikes.

Too, surely, the relived images would have included shooting hoops with his three oldest daughters – basketball was still in the future for infant Capri.

Ah, the future. I imagine also, if there were enough final fractions of time, tomorrows that will never come for Kobe flashed before his eyes – reading bedtime stories to Capri; taking Bianka for ice cream; cheering for Gianna in a WNBA game; walking Natalia down the church aisle and then doing so with Gianna and Bianka and Capri; Vanessa and he becoming grandparents.

Perhaps, even, Kobe imagined his girls-turned-women squeezing his hand on his distant deathbed because that’s how it should be – daughters, and sons, should hold their fathers when they leave the world. Not the other way around.

Heartbreakingly, but lovingly, I imagine Kobe indeed had one of his four daughters holding his hand as he left this world.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

Check out my memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece” and my essay collection “Strawberries in Wintertime: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” …

 

Column: Off Court He’s Still Magical

by Woody

My new memoir WOODEN & ME is also available here at Amazon

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Backboard to Boardroom, He’s Magic

It was the littlest of things, yet it remains an indelible memory more than a quarter century later. A small gesture of gracefulness telling a bigger story.

I was in the Los Angeles Lakers’ locker room as a rookie writer. It was after the game and reporters were boxing one another out around Magic Johnson’s locker stall like players battling for rebound position.

My kids Dallas and Greg enjoying a "Magic" moment at Cal Lutheran College two decades ago.

My kids Dallas and Greg enjoying a “Magic” moment at Cal Lutheran College two decades ago.

As the scrum of scribes and TV cameras thinned, I moved forward and finally asked a question to which Magic prefaced his answer: “Well, Woody… ”

Understand, I was not a familiar beat writer. Rather, this was my first time covering a Lakers game. But Magic had the grace to slyly spy the name on my media credential and made me feel welcomed.

Truth is, Magic made every media member feel welcomed – and made our working lives much easier.

Unlike Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, who would escape to the showers without talking, or Shaq O’Neal, who seemed to delight in mumbling so we couldn’t hear what he was saying, Magic would sit at his locker and thoughtfully answer each and every question until the very last reporter had what he or she needed.

I had the good fortune to interview Magic many more times during the final few years of his playing career and also enjoyed a couple lengthy one-on-one conversations with him at his youth basketball camps at Cal Lutheran University after he retired. Every encounter was a pleasure.

For good reason when people ask me who my favorite person to interview has been, the first name I mention after John Wooden is Magic Johnson.

So when the basketball legend-turned-mogul entrepreneur was a guest speaker not long ago as part of UC Santa Barbara’s Arts & Lectures series at the Arlington Theatre, I had to be there.

I’m glad I was. I have seen many wonderful speakers on stage – including Maya Angelou, Malcolm Gladwell and the Dalai Lama – and Magic was second to none.

He also did something unique – he ignored the lectern, eschewed a chair, and in fact shunned the stage entirely. Instead, in theatric terms he “broke the fourth wall” and gave his nearly two-hour-long talk from the floor in front of the stage as well as intimately walking up and down the aisles.

After recounting how he and his strapped college dorm mates would clip coupons and pool their money to buy one large pizza and sodas to share, Magic thoughtfully walked to the back of the auditorium to address the UCSB students who suddenly went from being in the cheap seats to having a front-row view.

Along the way, Magic’s extra dose of “charisma” DNA was evident as he stopped and talked – and posed for snapshots – with a handful of audience members. An hour later – reminiscent of my long-ago locker room encounter – he addressed a couple of these same strangers by first name.

Magic has treated F. Scott Fitzgerald’s famous declaration, “There are no second acts in American lives,” like a backpedaling defender. He faked it out and scored. Impossibly, Magic has been as successful in the business boardroom as fast-breaking between the backboards.

A tweet-length post-NBA summary in 140 characters: Part owner of the Dodgers; owner of movie theaters, Starbucks, 24 Hour Fitness and Burger King franchises serving urban areas; philanthropist; HIV/AIDS activist.

Directing his wisdom directly to the “young people” in the Santa Barbara audience, Magic, now 55, encouraged them get an education, find mentors, and dream big.

“I was a student-athlete who went to class,” he shared.

“People helped me along the way so I need to help others.”

“I was poor, but I didn’t dream poor.”

Further advice for success in the business world, and life, included: “Respect people’s time”; “always be early”; and “over-deliver.”

“I want you to over-deliver to everybody; your parents; your professor,” Magic concluded. “That’s what we all have to do now. It’s not enough just to deliver anymore. You have to over-deliver.”

It was not lip service: Magic was scheduled to speak for an hour and a half but graciously over-delivered by 20 minutes.

Happily, some things never change.

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

Wooden-&-Me-cover-mock-upCheck out my new memoir WOODEN & ME: Life Lessons from My Two-Decade Friendship with the Legendary Coach and Humanitarian to Help “Make Each Day Your Masterpiece”