Russ
03-16-2012, 03:23 PM
This is an old article I wrote for another website many years ago (summer 2003) about our once and future Spur, Stephen Jackson:
Last night I dreamed I made it to the promised land I was standing at the gate and I had the key in my hand St. Peter said come in boy you're finally home I said no thanks Pete I'll just be movin’ along
“I Aint Ever Satisfied” by Steve Earle
Stephen Jackson always lived his life like he was shooting the last shot of the game. (He probably still does but, alas, he’s past tense now).
You just knew he would make it – like you knew he would turn it over several times before the last shot to put you in suspense.
It seemed as if Jack didn’t care what happened before the moment of that final shot or what would happen after it. That moment was all that mattered. Sometimes it appeared that the same quality that made Jack deadly with long range shots to win big games caused him other problems. Living only in the moment, not thinking about the past or the future.
His history bears that out.
Jack always said that he was one of the three most famous people from Port Arthur, Texas – the other two were Janis Joplin and Jimmy Johnson. The difference was that Janis drank a quart of Southern Comfort every night and Jimmy once cost himself a multimillion dollar job because he wouldn’t raise his glass in a toast. In other words, they were relatively stable compared to Jack.
Jack was big, quick, athletic and had a sweet jump shot. Even in high school. But Jack was always restless. And restlessness started early for Jack.
Jack transferred from one high school to another because he liked their basketball team better. Two thousand miles, he transferred. From his high school in Port Arthur to Oak Hill Academy in Virginia. Even in high school, Jack was a basketball vagabond.
Poor SAT scores torpedoed his scholarship to play for Lute Olson at Arizona.
“I wasn’t a good test taker,” Jack explained. “Couldn’t sit still for that long.”
Presumably the test was not hitting game winning shots with the nerve of a day-light burglar. Jack would have aced that one.
And Jack was right, he couldn’t sit still very long. After he was drafted and cut by the Phoenix Suns, he ended up playing in places like Australia, Venezuela, the Dominican Republic, even New Jersey. Finally, they cut him, too.
At that point Jack hit rock bottom. Jack was just being Jack – living in the moment a little too much. He acknowledged that he had been “doing a lot of partying” and “wasn’t acting like a professional.” His career appeared to be over.
But then Jack got one last chance in 2001. The Spurs were looking for youth and athleticism and they picked Jack up on a flyer.
It looked like Jack had finally found a home with the Spurs. He even sat still long enough to accept a year on the injured list when he wasn’t really hurt – a major accomplishment for the antsy Jack. “Being around the guys in this organization has helped me become a man,” Jack proclaimed. Even coach Gregg Popovich admitted “he’s maturing.”
Along the way, Spurs fans grew to love Jack’s unusual traits. He did everything his own way. Even something as simple as running. Jack didn’t bend his knees when he ran – his legs went straight out. That gave Jack a herky-jerky motion when he ran the floor like a race-walker, all the while dribbling the basketball. Sometimes Jack stopped and the ball didn’t. Jack, the race-walker.
And Jack had a smile that reminded an old Spurs fan, like me, of Edgar Jones. Edgar had no front teeth. I think with Jack it may have been the mouthpiece that gave him that look.
Flash forward to Game six on the NBA Finals – the pinnacle of Jack’s career, his shining moment. That game was a metaphor for Jack’s life.
The early part of the game was another case of Jack digging himself a hole. He had a terrible game for three quarters, seemingly not focused, making one mistake after another. Pop pulled him from the game in disgust. But in the fourth quarter, when the game was tight, Pop put him back in.
Jack responded by leading a Spurs’ charge with three three-pointers in the waning minutes. He hit all the last shots that night and the Spurs won the NBA title. Suddenly, Jack was the toast of the town.
The only problem was that once the high of that last shot was over, it didn’t seem to be something that Jack could build on. Instead, he seemed only to wait for the next last shot.
He could have followed in the footsteps of prior NBA castoffs who found a niche with the Spurs like Malik Rose and Bruce Bowen and built a long term future.
But that wasn’t Jack’s style. Instead, he hired a pariah agent and demanded huge money and a starting position. Jack played hard ball with the Spurs and let it be known that he would walk. The Spurs finally announced that they had no more use for Jack and other teams seemed disinterested as well.
So at the pinnacle of his success, Jack was back to square one. No last shot in sight and nothing else mattered. Like a painter who paints a masterpiece and then orders that it be destroyed on a whim, without remorse.
And now he’s gone.
I, for one, will miss Jack.
But in the end, it seemed that the same quality that made him deadly with long range shots to win big games also caused Jack to make so many bad career decisions – a lack of consciousness of his surroundings.
Obliviousness to one’s surroundings is a great trait to have while taking the last shot of a big game for the title. It is not so great a trait when it causes you to fail to recognize that one moment when opportunities finally surround you.
The bottom line is that Jack squandered every chance that came his way. And after that, the Spurs gave Jack one more chance. That one looked good for a while but now it looks a lot like all the others. Over.
The highest praise that a coach can give one of his players is that “he never makes the same mistake twice.”
Let’s hope that Jack gets the chance to pretend to listen to such advice for a little while longer.
Last night I dreamed I made it to the promised land I was standing at the gate and I had the key in my hand St. Peter said come in boy you're finally home I said no thanks Pete I'll just be movin’ along
“I Aint Ever Satisfied” by Steve Earle
Stephen Jackson always lived his life like he was shooting the last shot of the game. (He probably still does but, alas, he’s past tense now).
You just knew he would make it – like you knew he would turn it over several times before the last shot to put you in suspense.
It seemed as if Jack didn’t care what happened before the moment of that final shot or what would happen after it. That moment was all that mattered. Sometimes it appeared that the same quality that made Jack deadly with long range shots to win big games caused him other problems. Living only in the moment, not thinking about the past or the future.
His history bears that out.
Jack always said that he was one of the three most famous people from Port Arthur, Texas – the other two were Janis Joplin and Jimmy Johnson. The difference was that Janis drank a quart of Southern Comfort every night and Jimmy once cost himself a multimillion dollar job because he wouldn’t raise his glass in a toast. In other words, they were relatively stable compared to Jack.
Jack was big, quick, athletic and had a sweet jump shot. Even in high school. But Jack was always restless. And restlessness started early for Jack.
Jack transferred from one high school to another because he liked their basketball team better. Two thousand miles, he transferred. From his high school in Port Arthur to Oak Hill Academy in Virginia. Even in high school, Jack was a basketball vagabond.
Poor SAT scores torpedoed his scholarship to play for Lute Olson at Arizona.
“I wasn’t a good test taker,” Jack explained. “Couldn’t sit still for that long.”
Presumably the test was not hitting game winning shots with the nerve of a day-light burglar. Jack would have aced that one.
And Jack was right, he couldn’t sit still very long. After he was drafted and cut by the Phoenix Suns, he ended up playing in places like Australia, Venezuela, the Dominican Republic, even New Jersey. Finally, they cut him, too.
At that point Jack hit rock bottom. Jack was just being Jack – living in the moment a little too much. He acknowledged that he had been “doing a lot of partying” and “wasn’t acting like a professional.” His career appeared to be over.
But then Jack got one last chance in 2001. The Spurs were looking for youth and athleticism and they picked Jack up on a flyer.
It looked like Jack had finally found a home with the Spurs. He even sat still long enough to accept a year on the injured list when he wasn’t really hurt – a major accomplishment for the antsy Jack. “Being around the guys in this organization has helped me become a man,” Jack proclaimed. Even coach Gregg Popovich admitted “he’s maturing.”
Along the way, Spurs fans grew to love Jack’s unusual traits. He did everything his own way. Even something as simple as running. Jack didn’t bend his knees when he ran – his legs went straight out. That gave Jack a herky-jerky motion when he ran the floor like a race-walker, all the while dribbling the basketball. Sometimes Jack stopped and the ball didn’t. Jack, the race-walker.
And Jack had a smile that reminded an old Spurs fan, like me, of Edgar Jones. Edgar had no front teeth. I think with Jack it may have been the mouthpiece that gave him that look.
Flash forward to Game six on the NBA Finals – the pinnacle of Jack’s career, his shining moment. That game was a metaphor for Jack’s life.
The early part of the game was another case of Jack digging himself a hole. He had a terrible game for three quarters, seemingly not focused, making one mistake after another. Pop pulled him from the game in disgust. But in the fourth quarter, when the game was tight, Pop put him back in.
Jack responded by leading a Spurs’ charge with three three-pointers in the waning minutes. He hit all the last shots that night and the Spurs won the NBA title. Suddenly, Jack was the toast of the town.
The only problem was that once the high of that last shot was over, it didn’t seem to be something that Jack could build on. Instead, he seemed only to wait for the next last shot.
He could have followed in the footsteps of prior NBA castoffs who found a niche with the Spurs like Malik Rose and Bruce Bowen and built a long term future.
But that wasn’t Jack’s style. Instead, he hired a pariah agent and demanded huge money and a starting position. Jack played hard ball with the Spurs and let it be known that he would walk. The Spurs finally announced that they had no more use for Jack and other teams seemed disinterested as well.
So at the pinnacle of his success, Jack was back to square one. No last shot in sight and nothing else mattered. Like a painter who paints a masterpiece and then orders that it be destroyed on a whim, without remorse.
And now he’s gone.
I, for one, will miss Jack.
But in the end, it seemed that the same quality that made him deadly with long range shots to win big games also caused Jack to make so many bad career decisions – a lack of consciousness of his surroundings.
Obliviousness to one’s surroundings is a great trait to have while taking the last shot of a big game for the title. It is not so great a trait when it causes you to fail to recognize that one moment when opportunities finally surround you.
The bottom line is that Jack squandered every chance that came his way. And after that, the Spurs gave Jack one more chance. That one looked good for a while but now it looks a lot like all the others. Over.
The highest praise that a coach can give one of his players is that “he never makes the same mistake twice.”
Let’s hope that Jack gets the chance to pretend to listen to such advice for a little while longer.