Kori Ellis
03-06-2005, 01:58 AM
Time for you, No. 32
Web Posted: 03/06/2005 12:00 AM CST
Johnny Ludden
Express-News Staff Writer
http://www.mysanantonio.com/sports/basketball/nba/spurs/stories/MYSA030605.1C.BKNspurs.elliott.10d41a8bd.html
More than five years later, people continue to approach Sean Elliott with stories and pictures. They tell him they were one of the 35,260 at the Alamodome on the afternoon of May 31, 1999. They tell him they watched in a bar in Philadelphia. At their parents' home in Del Rio.
They talk about Elliott and his shot as if they were recounting man's first steps on the moon. Elliott listens and smiles.
He likes to look at the faces in the pictures. The season-ticket holder, mouth open, eyes following the arc of the shot. The woman with her hands clasped. Portland forward Jimmy Jackson, his shoulders sinking in frustration as he signals for a timeout.
Elliott has a photo of the shot hanging in his office, though he doesn't look at it much. He's not sure if he even owns a copy of the game on video. The 10-inch scar stretching across his lower abdomen is enough of a reminder.
Elliott's tippy-toed 3-pointer in the closing seconds of Game 2 of the 1999 Western Conference finals propelled the Spurs to their first championship and arguably changed the course of a franchise. It was immediately christened the "Memorial Day Miracle," a title that proved even more appropriate when it become known Elliott had taken the shot with the realization it might have been one of his last.
"It was one of the greatest shots in NBA history," former Spurs guard Steve Kerr said. "When you make a shot like that, in a moment like that, it can define your career."
The Spurs will retire Elliott's No. 32 tonight in celebration of the shot as well as the rest of his career. Only David Robinson and George Gervin wore the franchise's silver and black longer than Elliott, whose 11 seasons with the team spanned 669 games, 563 3-pointers, two All-Star selections and one unprecedented return from kidney transplant surgery.
"I always thought Sean was San Antonio," Spurs coach Gregg Popovich said. "Just like David, he's always been part of the family."
While Robinson was revered for his officer-and-a-gentleman image and regal presence, Elliott was the player with whom everyone wanted to be friends. He was funny and light-hearted, quick with a joke or a sound bite. His smile seemed to stretch forever.
His generosity also had few limits: When the Spurs needed to free up cash to build their practice facility, Elliott agreed to defer part of his contract after two of his teammates declined.
"He was a grown little kid in the sense of having a pure heart and a naïve notion of the world, so to speak," Popovich said. "That's how he approached everything."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Spurs made Elliott the No. 3 pick in the 1989 draft. On the day he arrived in San Antonio, the team's media-relations staff presented him with a packet of stories about his selection.
"That was the worst thing they could have done," Elliott said. "There were all these fans quoted complaining about me, saying everybody had wanted Danny Ferry.
"I wondered what I was getting myself into."
The city warmed to Elliott soon enough. He stood 6 feet 8 and possessed the quickness of a guard. Already explosive, he learned to shoot with range.
"He was a breath of fresh air," said Popovich, then an assistant on Larry Brown's staff. "He was like a young buck, like a mustang in the hills.
"He would do whatever we asked him to do, and we didn't even know what we were doing."
Four years into his career, Elliott became an All-Star. He seemed destined for more honors until medical tests after the season showed he was suffering from a kidney disorder. A few months later, the Spurs sent him to Detroit in exchange for Dennis Rodman.
Elliott endured a forgettable season with the Pistons, his feet and hands swelling because of the medication he was taking. Detroit tried to trade him to Houston, but he couldn't pass the Rockets' physical.
Popovich returned to the Spurs as the franchise's new general manager and quickly reacquired Elliott, giving up only the rights to Bill Curley and a second-round pick. Two seasons later, Elliott averaged a career-high 20 points and was named to his second All-Star team.
"I knew him, and I knew his situation," Popovich said. "I think people had just decided his health wasn't going to allow him to do anything basketball-wise. Sean felt totally different from that. He felt he had a lot left."
For four seasons, Elliott did. Not until the lockout-shortened season of 1999 did his kidneys significantly worsen. The Spurs' doctors began to check his blood pressure before and after every game, but he otherwise kept his condition from teammates and family.
When Elliott went to his kidney doctor in March, the creatinine level in his blood — a measure of his kidney function — was close to 4.5. A healthy level is in the range of .1 to 1.5. During the playoffs, Elliott's climbed above 8.
Only after his game-winning shot against the Trail Blazers, when the Spurs were flying to Portland for Game 3, did Elliott tell Steve Kerr he might have to retire after the season.
"I was shocked," Kerr said. "I had no idea."
Neither did anyone else. Less than a month after the championship parade, Elliott announced he needed a transplant. After his brother, Noel, proved a successful match, he underwent the operation on Aug. 16.
Elliott had envisioned playing at least 12 seasons in the NBA, though reaching No. 11 proved tough. The Spurs wouldn't let him return until he passed a grueling conditioning test that required him to run the length of the court and back 10 times in under a minute, rest a minute, then repeat the series of sprints four more times.
Frustrated by his lack of progress, Elliott yelled at the Spurs' doctors and other staffers. He soon contracted the flu, which gave way to pneumonia. His weakened immune system sent his temperature climbing to 102 degrees.
Elliott checked himself into a hospital, where he remained for a few days. "If you had come in here a day later," his doctor said, "you would have left a lot sooner. But you would have gone out the back door."
On March 10, at Washington's MCI Center, Elliott finally passed his conditioning requirements. Two nights later in front of a crowd of 26,708 that included his brother, he made his return official with a powerful dunk.
Elliott returned the following season but was limited to 52 games because of shoulder and knee injuries. He couldn't take anti-inflammatory medication, which likely would have relieved most of his discomfort, because of his kidney.
"When my hand started to reach for those," he said, "I knew I had to make a decision."
Elliott opted to retire. He considered making another comeback at the end of last season when the Spurs went looking for a shooter. But after working out for R.C. Buford, the team's general manager, he realized he missed the locker-room camaraderie more than the running.
"It's a young man's game," he said.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Elliott, now 37, spent the previous two years working for ESPN but tired of the twice-a-week commutes to Bristol, Conn. He left the network to become the Spurs' lead TV analyst, a job that allows him to stay connected with the team.
Sharing Popovich's love for fine wine, he frequently dines with the coaching staff on the road.
Elliott's family has grown to include his wife, Claudia Zapata, two daughters and a stepson. He drives his children to school, works on his house and plays golf. Almost four years removed from his final game, he hasn't lost all of his competitiveness.
"The ping pong and Scrabble wars at home," Claudia said, "can be pretty fierce."
Claudia makes sure Elliott stays out of the fast-foot drive-thru lane. He continues to work out, though not as strenuously, and feels healthy enough to sometimes forget he's carrying his brother's kidney. Noel, meanwhile, is preparing to have his third child since the transplant.
Elliott's family, as well as several of his former teammates, will attend tonight's ceremony. For one more night, everyone will watch the "Memorial Day Miracle."
Elliott will catch Mario Elie's pass in the right corner, his momentum nearly carrying him out of bounds. He'll lift his heels above the sideline. Rasheed Wallace will jump at him. He'll cock his right wrist
"Sometimes we hit those shots, sometimes we miss them," Elliott said. "But for us, for our franchise, at that time, we really needed to make one. We were due."
Web Posted: 03/06/2005 12:00 AM CST
Johnny Ludden
Express-News Staff Writer
http://www.mysanantonio.com/sports/basketball/nba/spurs/stories/MYSA030605.1C.BKNspurs.elliott.10d41a8bd.html
More than five years later, people continue to approach Sean Elliott with stories and pictures. They tell him they were one of the 35,260 at the Alamodome on the afternoon of May 31, 1999. They tell him they watched in a bar in Philadelphia. At their parents' home in Del Rio.
They talk about Elliott and his shot as if they were recounting man's first steps on the moon. Elliott listens and smiles.
He likes to look at the faces in the pictures. The season-ticket holder, mouth open, eyes following the arc of the shot. The woman with her hands clasped. Portland forward Jimmy Jackson, his shoulders sinking in frustration as he signals for a timeout.
Elliott has a photo of the shot hanging in his office, though he doesn't look at it much. He's not sure if he even owns a copy of the game on video. The 10-inch scar stretching across his lower abdomen is enough of a reminder.
Elliott's tippy-toed 3-pointer in the closing seconds of Game 2 of the 1999 Western Conference finals propelled the Spurs to their first championship and arguably changed the course of a franchise. It was immediately christened the "Memorial Day Miracle," a title that proved even more appropriate when it become known Elliott had taken the shot with the realization it might have been one of his last.
"It was one of the greatest shots in NBA history," former Spurs guard Steve Kerr said. "When you make a shot like that, in a moment like that, it can define your career."
The Spurs will retire Elliott's No. 32 tonight in celebration of the shot as well as the rest of his career. Only David Robinson and George Gervin wore the franchise's silver and black longer than Elliott, whose 11 seasons with the team spanned 669 games, 563 3-pointers, two All-Star selections and one unprecedented return from kidney transplant surgery.
"I always thought Sean was San Antonio," Spurs coach Gregg Popovich said. "Just like David, he's always been part of the family."
While Robinson was revered for his officer-and-a-gentleman image and regal presence, Elliott was the player with whom everyone wanted to be friends. He was funny and light-hearted, quick with a joke or a sound bite. His smile seemed to stretch forever.
His generosity also had few limits: When the Spurs needed to free up cash to build their practice facility, Elliott agreed to defer part of his contract after two of his teammates declined.
"He was a grown little kid in the sense of having a pure heart and a naïve notion of the world, so to speak," Popovich said. "That's how he approached everything."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Spurs made Elliott the No. 3 pick in the 1989 draft. On the day he arrived in San Antonio, the team's media-relations staff presented him with a packet of stories about his selection.
"That was the worst thing they could have done," Elliott said. "There were all these fans quoted complaining about me, saying everybody had wanted Danny Ferry.
"I wondered what I was getting myself into."
The city warmed to Elliott soon enough. He stood 6 feet 8 and possessed the quickness of a guard. Already explosive, he learned to shoot with range.
"He was a breath of fresh air," said Popovich, then an assistant on Larry Brown's staff. "He was like a young buck, like a mustang in the hills.
"He would do whatever we asked him to do, and we didn't even know what we were doing."
Four years into his career, Elliott became an All-Star. He seemed destined for more honors until medical tests after the season showed he was suffering from a kidney disorder. A few months later, the Spurs sent him to Detroit in exchange for Dennis Rodman.
Elliott endured a forgettable season with the Pistons, his feet and hands swelling because of the medication he was taking. Detroit tried to trade him to Houston, but he couldn't pass the Rockets' physical.
Popovich returned to the Spurs as the franchise's new general manager and quickly reacquired Elliott, giving up only the rights to Bill Curley and a second-round pick. Two seasons later, Elliott averaged a career-high 20 points and was named to his second All-Star team.
"I knew him, and I knew his situation," Popovich said. "I think people had just decided his health wasn't going to allow him to do anything basketball-wise. Sean felt totally different from that. He felt he had a lot left."
For four seasons, Elliott did. Not until the lockout-shortened season of 1999 did his kidneys significantly worsen. The Spurs' doctors began to check his blood pressure before and after every game, but he otherwise kept his condition from teammates and family.
When Elliott went to his kidney doctor in March, the creatinine level in his blood — a measure of his kidney function — was close to 4.5. A healthy level is in the range of .1 to 1.5. During the playoffs, Elliott's climbed above 8.
Only after his game-winning shot against the Trail Blazers, when the Spurs were flying to Portland for Game 3, did Elliott tell Steve Kerr he might have to retire after the season.
"I was shocked," Kerr said. "I had no idea."
Neither did anyone else. Less than a month after the championship parade, Elliott announced he needed a transplant. After his brother, Noel, proved a successful match, he underwent the operation on Aug. 16.
Elliott had envisioned playing at least 12 seasons in the NBA, though reaching No. 11 proved tough. The Spurs wouldn't let him return until he passed a grueling conditioning test that required him to run the length of the court and back 10 times in under a minute, rest a minute, then repeat the series of sprints four more times.
Frustrated by his lack of progress, Elliott yelled at the Spurs' doctors and other staffers. He soon contracted the flu, which gave way to pneumonia. His weakened immune system sent his temperature climbing to 102 degrees.
Elliott checked himself into a hospital, where he remained for a few days. "If you had come in here a day later," his doctor said, "you would have left a lot sooner. But you would have gone out the back door."
On March 10, at Washington's MCI Center, Elliott finally passed his conditioning requirements. Two nights later in front of a crowd of 26,708 that included his brother, he made his return official with a powerful dunk.
Elliott returned the following season but was limited to 52 games because of shoulder and knee injuries. He couldn't take anti-inflammatory medication, which likely would have relieved most of his discomfort, because of his kidney.
"When my hand started to reach for those," he said, "I knew I had to make a decision."
Elliott opted to retire. He considered making another comeback at the end of last season when the Spurs went looking for a shooter. But after working out for R.C. Buford, the team's general manager, he realized he missed the locker-room camaraderie more than the running.
"It's a young man's game," he said.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Elliott, now 37, spent the previous two years working for ESPN but tired of the twice-a-week commutes to Bristol, Conn. He left the network to become the Spurs' lead TV analyst, a job that allows him to stay connected with the team.
Sharing Popovich's love for fine wine, he frequently dines with the coaching staff on the road.
Elliott's family has grown to include his wife, Claudia Zapata, two daughters and a stepson. He drives his children to school, works on his house and plays golf. Almost four years removed from his final game, he hasn't lost all of his competitiveness.
"The ping pong and Scrabble wars at home," Claudia said, "can be pretty fierce."
Claudia makes sure Elliott stays out of the fast-foot drive-thru lane. He continues to work out, though not as strenuously, and feels healthy enough to sometimes forget he's carrying his brother's kidney. Noel, meanwhile, is preparing to have his third child since the transplant.
Elliott's family, as well as several of his former teammates, will attend tonight's ceremony. For one more night, everyone will watch the "Memorial Day Miracle."
Elliott will catch Mario Elie's pass in the right corner, his momentum nearly carrying him out of bounds. He'll lift his heels above the sideline. Rasheed Wallace will jump at him. He'll cock his right wrist
"Sometimes we hit those shots, sometimes we miss them," Elliott said. "But for us, for our franchise, at that time, we really needed to make one. We were due."