OT: Darrick Murray: The Man, The Legend.
Posted: Thu Mar 6, 2008 10:49 pm
When I saw a mention of Darrick Murray in a now-locked thread, my heart filled with nostalgia.
See, you all know Darrick Murray just from his time with the Raptors. And some of you seem to think he is just a RealGM legend, a fictitious character created because of a mistake in some random post.
But some of us know the truth.
I am one of them.
I know the truth because I saw Darrick Murray's first professional game.
It was in the summer leagues...19something or other. It was hot. Too hot to live, let alone play basketball. Air conditioning hadn't been invented yet, so we just fanned ourselves and drank whiskey, smoked opium. This was "back in the day", you understand. Back when men were men and you could see it through their short shorts.
So it was getting down to the end of the day. I'd been working the beat for the local rag and they sent me here to cover the new guy. Said he could shoot like the wind, they said. Said he could lead men like a general, they said. And that was just for starters they said.
I didn't believe a word of it. The tales were too tall. The feats too astounding. It was impossible.
So I sat and I watched. Wanting to believe, but not wanting to be let down again, I watched. And I watched. For 3 quarters I watched and there was no sign of him. I began to give up hope. Angrily, I thought that perhaps I had been the victim of a cruel joke.
And then I saw him. Sitting there at the end of the bench I saw him goddammit. He was shorter than the others, which was probably why I missed him. That, and I mistook him for the towel boy. It was definitely him, but there was no way it could be him. No way those stocky legs could perform those feats. No way that he could move that paunch between opposing guards. No way that a man with no neck could lead troops into battle.
And then it happens. Late in the 4th the coach calls his number and he stands. Finally! Finally my chance to see the legend in the flesh. The sweat pours down my brow. I don't bother to look at the score. Its clearly a tightly fought contest if the coach is willing to put him at risk by letting him play. Clearly the game hangs in the balance.
What other explanation could there be?
The ball is inbounded and Murray has it. He takes a position on the perimeter. Like a statue, he plants his legs. His left hand gesticulating madly in front of him, his right hand with the ball. The seconds tick down. He starts to dribble. But the legs stay solid. Like a rhino. Like a mongoose. Looking off into the crowd, with 3 seconds left on the shot clock, he senses the moment. Suddenly, he's on the move. He lumbers forward, but before the drive can start, he stops it, pulling up for a 28 foot shot. Time hangs still as the ball is heaved high into the air.
My vision blurs.
I see the ball hit the rim.
I pass out.
When I come to, I am lying in the filth outside the arena. I beg someone to tell me what happened. Everyone looks away, taking my sweaty appearance and odor of soiled knickers as a sign of vagrancy. Finally I beg one kind old man, pleading with him,
"WHAT HAPPENED MAN?? DID THEY WIN??"
"Yes goddammit!! Gawd....YES! They won 128-64. Now get off me!!"
Astounding.
How they took such a huge lead in just under 2 minutes, I never knew. And since we had no cameras or recording devices in those days...and since I was the only reporter there, I never learned.
Then, when he came to the Raptors, I knew I had my chance. At an autograph signing at the 2001 Audio/Video in Rexdale, I walked up to him. I looked him in the eye and said to him "Mr. Murray. I saw you play your first pro game. Do you remember that game?"
He stopped what he was doing and matched my gaze. A slight smile crept over his face, or perhaps it was a look of confusion.
"No. No I don't. Do I know you?"
And that was that.
See, you all know Darrick Murray just from his time with the Raptors. And some of you seem to think he is just a RealGM legend, a fictitious character created because of a mistake in some random post.
But some of us know the truth.
I am one of them.
I know the truth because I saw Darrick Murray's first professional game.
It was in the summer leagues...19something or other. It was hot. Too hot to live, let alone play basketball. Air conditioning hadn't been invented yet, so we just fanned ourselves and drank whiskey, smoked opium. This was "back in the day", you understand. Back when men were men and you could see it through their short shorts.
So it was getting down to the end of the day. I'd been working the beat for the local rag and they sent me here to cover the new guy. Said he could shoot like the wind, they said. Said he could lead men like a general, they said. And that was just for starters they said.
I didn't believe a word of it. The tales were too tall. The feats too astounding. It was impossible.
So I sat and I watched. Wanting to believe, but not wanting to be let down again, I watched. And I watched. For 3 quarters I watched and there was no sign of him. I began to give up hope. Angrily, I thought that perhaps I had been the victim of a cruel joke.
And then I saw him. Sitting there at the end of the bench I saw him goddammit. He was shorter than the others, which was probably why I missed him. That, and I mistook him for the towel boy. It was definitely him, but there was no way it could be him. No way those stocky legs could perform those feats. No way that he could move that paunch between opposing guards. No way that a man with no neck could lead troops into battle.
And then it happens. Late in the 4th the coach calls his number and he stands. Finally! Finally my chance to see the legend in the flesh. The sweat pours down my brow. I don't bother to look at the score. Its clearly a tightly fought contest if the coach is willing to put him at risk by letting him play. Clearly the game hangs in the balance.
What other explanation could there be?
The ball is inbounded and Murray has it. He takes a position on the perimeter. Like a statue, he plants his legs. His left hand gesticulating madly in front of him, his right hand with the ball. The seconds tick down. He starts to dribble. But the legs stay solid. Like a rhino. Like a mongoose. Looking off into the crowd, with 3 seconds left on the shot clock, he senses the moment. Suddenly, he's on the move. He lumbers forward, but before the drive can start, he stops it, pulling up for a 28 foot shot. Time hangs still as the ball is heaved high into the air.
My vision blurs.
I see the ball hit the rim.
I pass out.
When I come to, I am lying in the filth outside the arena. I beg someone to tell me what happened. Everyone looks away, taking my sweaty appearance and odor of soiled knickers as a sign of vagrancy. Finally I beg one kind old man, pleading with him,
"WHAT HAPPENED MAN?? DID THEY WIN??"
"Yes goddammit!! Gawd....YES! They won 128-64. Now get off me!!"
Astounding.
How they took such a huge lead in just under 2 minutes, I never knew. And since we had no cameras or recording devices in those days...and since I was the only reporter there, I never learned.
Then, when he came to the Raptors, I knew I had my chance. At an autograph signing at the 2001 Audio/Video in Rexdale, I walked up to him. I looked him in the eye and said to him "Mr. Murray. I saw you play your first pro game. Do you remember that game?"
He stopped what he was doing and matched my gaze. A slight smile crept over his face, or perhaps it was a look of confusion.
"No. No I don't. Do I know you?"
And that was that.