The Golden Age of Basketball

Chapter 520 I Like This Kind of Life

Even today, when I watch TV, I spend as much time on the Discovery Channel and National Geographic Channel as I do watching basketball games.

Why? Why am I still so curious about animals at my age?
Why am I sitting here wondering about a fight between a coyote and a pit bull, or about who is stronger, a tiger or a lion?

I love zoos. I love watching the animals, even though they're in cages, still exude the wildness of nature.

This reminds me of how I felt in the locker room, like a wild animal locked in a cage, sweat dripping down my body, and occasionally I would vomit.

But as soon as the cage door opens, I rush out to fight and get ready for the match.

It wasn't until the Lakers moved to the Great Western Forum in 1967 that I truly considered myself a gladiator, because of the arena's ancient Roman gladiator-like shape and the owner Cook's insistence that the waitresses wear Roman-style robes.

But it could also be earlier, going back to when I participated in the Rome Olympics, or even before that, when I was playing at the Mountain People's Gymnasium.

I've always been interested in the fact that basketball players originally played in large metal cages.

In 1989, I resigned from my position as general manager of the Lakers. While unemployed at home, I declined many visits and persuasion from friends. I just wanted to stay alone and think things through.

I often think about how meaningful my life would have been if I hadn't left the mountains of West Virginia and had stayed there to continue climbing.

Another thing that comes to mind is that if my family life were like the one Norman Rockwell depicted, it probably wouldn't be as interesting.

If I had grown up in a big city, I would have missed a lot of what I described earlier.

Or, if I hadn't played for the Lakers, but for the Knicks, the Bullets, or some other team, my life would definitely be different.

I quietly contemplate all these unrestrained fantasies, all alone.

Even today, I still have a lonely side, which is something people can't see.

But I believe that only in solitude can a person reveal their true nature and be their true self.

The mountains I climb are not just mountains, but my refuge, like a basketball.

They are shelters from the coming storm, and I don't know when the storm will come.

According to Campbell, the world of heroes is made up of pain, boredom, and neurosis. For me, pain and anger are the most real feelings I have experienced growing up, and they are the cornerstones hidden in the abyss of my emotions.

I always try to figure out when my father will explode, and I carefully avoid him, hoping not to encounter anything bad.

This makes it difficult for me to express my feelings directly, whether good or bad; I'm a maddening master of indirect expression.

In the family I grew up in, you rarely heard the phrase "I love you," which largely explains why I have difficulty saying the same thing or fully understanding the meaning of those three words.

These three damn words, I'm fighting them like crazy.

As for neuroticism, I don't think it suits me.

Yes, I am superstitious, a bit eccentric, and have experienced pain and hardship.

But neurotic? No, I don't think so. I'm not Woody Allen.

However, I get excited very easily, and I try to hide it by keeping a cold face so that people can't tell.

In reality, when I stepped onto the court, I felt like a Bengal tiger entering the arena, and a hunting instinct was quickly aroused.

Back in high school, I felt that I might be special because I could predict the course of a game before it even started.

On the field, I can read the players' eyes and body movements, know what they want to do, which direction they will move in, where they like to go, and where they don't like to go.

I can anticipate everything, which allows me to easily block shots and steals.

After entering the NBA, I quickly realized that some people could be like me, such as Bill Russell, Wilt Chamberlain, and Oscar Robertson. I still remember the embarrassing moment when Russell blocked my shot, because anyone, including my kids, can see it on YouTube.

It was this combination of foresight and intuition that greatly helped me in managing the Lakers.

Before things become clear, I can foresee the team's needs. I know a player might be in good form this year, but unlikely to maintain that level next season. I know who can help us and who is the missing piece. I anticipate external criticism and rejection, but I can stick to my beliefs.

The only person I couldn't foresee was Forrest Gump, or rather, I had a premonition at the time, but I was powerless to change it.

I stayed alone in the cave pondering these questions until Nicholson pulled me out.

He told me a crazy plan: to send me to Portland as general manager and bring Forrest Gump back to Los Angeles in three years.

Ever since he achieved great success with "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," I've thought he's gone a little crazy. What's even crazier is that I actually think the plan is pretty good, even though I won't admit it.

One reason is that the Lakers beat the Trail Blazers in the Western Conference Finals in 1989, and if we lost again, I would never consider going to Portland.

Nicholson arranged for me, Tang Jianguo, and Agan to play golf at the Belle Country Club. This was my first private meeting with Agan.

There are many reports about him, but I never read them. I think they would interfere with my judgment of him, so I only look at his performance on the field.

The giants on the basketball court often had some issues off the court. Wilt and Kareem were both eccentric, while Forrest Gump was exceptionally talented and unrestrained. He wrestled, elbowed, and beat up anyone who dared to challenge him, single-handedly changing the landscape of the NBA.

He drove Rambis to a mental breakdown, drove Pat Riley to a state of mental confusion and forced him to resign, and also drove me out of my position as Lakers general manager.

I think he's the second Bill Russell—arrogant, ruthless, adept at manipulating opponents, with an extreme pursuit of victory yet a disdain for it, because it's too easy for him.

My prediction proved correct; he really is like Bill, but only on the court. Off the court, he's more like Wilt.

I understood this when he argued with me in the golf cart about whether a tiger or a lion was stronger.

We talked almost entirely about animals. His knowledge was astounding. I suspect he started using the internet as early as 1988, because I later found much of the information online.

He didn't like playing golf, but he enjoyed it immensely. I spent many years trying to learn how to swing, adjust the angle, and calculate the wind speed, striving to make accurate shots on every ball.

He can hit the ball really far with a thud, and he always manages to get it into the hole eventually. I'm pretty sure he has the potential to go pro.

He wasn't the kind of attention-seeker who deliberately stirred up trouble in a crowd. Like Wilt, he was destined to be the center of attention the moment he stood there, but at the same time, he wouldn't deliberately steal the limelight from others, or act like the master and boss people around.

He was so natural, which reminded me of the vast Pacific Ocean. I know there is a saying in ancient Chinese books: "A person with the highest virtue is like water."

I'm afraid of water. I nearly drowned when I was a child, and I still don't dare to swim. I get scared when I'm near water.

Forrest Gump used to scare me, but I think if he were my player, would I still have anything to be afraid of?

This possibility bombarded my mind. When I retired in 1974, I thought more than once about what my life would have been like if I had gone to another team like Oscar Robertson.

Now another possibility is before me.

After the game, we went to eat Chinese food. From beginning to end, Agan did not try to persuade me to go to Portland. He was just very curious and asked all sorts of questions. He was knowledgeable and insightful. He had both the cheerfulness of Irwin and the deep thinking of Karim. Meanwhile, I kept fantasizing about building a championship team around him.

They will have Sabonis and Petrovic that season, giving them a lot of room to maneuver.

Forrest Gump said, "My goal is not just to win championships, but to build a real dynasty."

I asked him whether he wanted to enjoy the joy of victory or avoid the pain of defeat, and he said, "I just like this kind of life."

At that moment, I decided to go to Portland.

—Excerpt from Jerry West's autobiography, West by West, published in 2011.

(End of this chapter)