It's a long read, but an entertaining one. I now present to you the story behind this Kareem photo.
It begins in 1981, the day I got my driver's license at the DMV in Culver City, CA. I was so excited that I passed the driving test, and ran inside to get my picture taken. I had the first appointment of the day on the Friday before Easter, so the place was empty except for a few employees and me. And the one person ahead of me in line -- Kareem. With a huge smile on my face I said to him, "I just got my driver's license! Would you please sign my learner's permit to commemorate the occasion?" He looked at me as though I was dirt under his feet and said in the coldest, most biting way possible, "Not now, man."
A couple years later, I was going to UCLA. An early-morning class got canceled, so I killed time by walking around the streets of Westwood. Whom should I see walking towards me, but none other than Kareem. Again, there was nobody else in the vicinity. I reached into my backpack and took out a UCLA notebook, and said very politely, "Kareem, would you sign a notebook for a fellow Bruin?" Same death stare, same, "Not now, man."
A few years after that, my first job after college was managing a store in the Westside Pavilion (a now-defunct mall in LA) that sold sports merchandise, such as replica jerseys and team Starter jackets. We had a Lakers jersey hung on the wall that many of the players signed when they shopped in the store or we saw them in the mall. One very slow night shortly before closing, Kareem walked by. Again, not a soul nearby except for me and my employee. I pointed to the jersey and explained that many of his teammates had signed it (including Magic), and it was for display only and would not be sold, and would he be kind enough to add his name. You guessed it. Death stare and, "Not now, man."
I understand that everybody has a bad day, but three times of the exact same thing is a pattern. I actually sat down and timed signing his name versus saying, "Not now, man," and it takes less time to be a nice person than to be a jerk, especially when there was nobody else around. Anyway, a couple of years after the last incident, I read that he would be signing at a card show. To show you how much things have changed since the late-'80s, it was $8 per autograph. So I bought two tickets and stood in a long line. I finally got to the front and presented my first ticket. I brought an old magazine with him on the cover, and put it on the table in front of him. Just as pen was about to hit paper, I pulled it away, gave him my best death stare, and said, "Now now, man." I then went back through the line and used my second ticket ticket to actually get the autograph on the magazine. He didn't say a word, but I have to say that it was one of the most satisfying experiences of my life.
And I thought the story ended there. And it did, until about 20 years later. It was Father's Day, and my family went to a restaurant in Sherman Oaks, CA down the street from my dad's. It was John Wooden's favorite restaurant where he ate every day. We had seen him there a few times previously, and he had a private side room where he dined with his family. But on this particular evening, the restaurant was packed. We had reservations and the owners knew us as regulars and didn't want to turn us away or have us wait, so they sat us in Coach Wooden's private room! He had his entire family there, kids and their spouses, grandkids, great-grandkids (maybe even great-great-grandkids). On the TV was a championship game between the Lakers and Celtics. To my great surprise, the Wooden Family was rooting for the Celtics. I was so curious I asked why. Coach's daughter said, "My dad hates so-and-so, so we root against the Lakers" (she said the name of a Laker player that I don't wish to repeat). I blurted out, "Well, I can't stand Kareem, but I always rooted for the Lakers when he was playing."
And that's when it happened. Coach Wooden motioned for me to come over. He said, "Tell me son, why do you hate Kareem?" I told him the entire sordid tale I related above. He said, "Listen, I know that Kareem can be a handful. Believe me, I know. But let me tell you a story about him...." He then told me about a game they played in Arizona. Kareem was standing outside the bus signing autographs. Everybody else was on the bus waiting for him to get in so they could leave. So finally Coach told him that he had to get in now. As he walked away, one of the people who didn't get an autograph yelled at him, "You big dumb N-word!" Coach said that he felt guilty about that since, that it was his fault that it happened because he pulled Kareem away. He said that that's an example of what Kareem faced growing up, and hopefully I can understand how that would have made him distrusting and jaded. He then told me a quote from Mother Teresa about forgiveness and asked my name. I told him, and he said, "Very nice to meet you, Steve," and shook my hand. You have no idea how much that meant, having grown up idolizing him and Bill Walton and later going to UCLA myself and being there on Father's Day with my dad who was also a Bruin. To me, it was bigger than if I had met Babe Ruth.
A picture is worth a thousand words, and I'm sure I've just written way more about this one. But if you've read all of them, I guess the moral of the story is that even the worst experience can have a rainbow at the end.
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