He is perhaps the greatest living player eligible for induction into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame, his résumé bursting with 24,941 points, 16,330 rebounds and 2,497 blocks spread over 17 professional seasons and two leagues, and yet Artis “A-Train” Gilmore finds himself on the outside looking in, awaiting a telephone call that is embarrassingly overdue.  The list of accomplishments is nearly as long as the shadow cast by this 7'-2" giant with the low-key personality and intimidating post presence, a body of work that certainly deserves enshrinement in his sport's most sacred hall.  Criminal, this wait; displayed annually on each voter's ballot is a high school All-American with a trip to the NCAA Championship Game under his belt, an ABA superstar who posted twelve solid NBA seasons after that league folded, an 11-time All-Star with a streak of 640 consecutive games played – and yet Gilmore is forced to lobby for his own enshrinement, reminding the voters of his legend, as if he were a fringe talent undeserving of the game's highest honor.

Gilmore’s incredible achievements belie his humble beginnings, where, as one of ten children growing up poor in rural Chipley, Florida, he would oftentimes go without even the most basic of necessities.  Back then food was hard to come by, and his parents could barely make ends meet.  Jobs were scarce – Gilmore’s father was fisherman with no benefits and no retirement – and the future seemed as bleak as the craggy roads connecting this small farming town of 5,000.  Still, his parents were convinced that young Artis could make something of himself.  They instilled in him a strong value system, with a premium on things such as morals and character, and a belief that education was the key to a better way of life.  And while he would struggle academically, especially in the early going, Gilmore nevertheless stayed in school and paid attention.  He also stayed out of trouble, sidestepping the dual temptations of drugs and alcohol while pursuing his first love, football.   A growth spurt, coupled with a minor football injury, turned Gilmore's athletic focus to the hardwood.  The family moved to nearby Dothan, Alabama, prior to his senior year of high school, and the 6'-9½ " teenager responded by being named a third-team All-American.

The sky seemed the limit, yet Gilmore found himself plagued by bad grades and unable to make the jump to a Division I university.  He settled on a two-year stop at Gardner-Webb Junior College in Boiling Springs, North Carolina, learning how to study and how to live his life independently.  This self-reliance paid off in a big way, as Gilmore matured both inside the classroom and out.  His grades improved as he figured out how to better manage his time.  He also matured on the basketball court, further developing his low-post game and adding much-needed weight to his frame, the bulk transforming him into perhaps the strongest collegiate player in the country.  By the end of his sophomore year Gilmore was ready for prime time, and prime time was ready for Gilmore.  With an avalanche of colleges inquiring about his services, Gilmore opted for a virtual unknown in the basketball universe:  Jacksonville University.

Playing in Jacksonville meant playing closer to home, and this was a huge plus for the gifted pivot man.  He could perform in front of family and friends.  He could visit his parents while maintaining his independence.  And he could focus on basketball:  Now 7'-2" with the musculature of a young Wilt Chamberlain, Gilmore instantly transformed the Dolphins into a collegiate power, as the team went 27-2 during his senior season and reached the NCAA Championship Game.  Awaiting them – Legendary coach John Wooden and the mighty UCLA Bruins.  Gilmore staked Jacksonville to an early lead, but then Wooden turned to Sidney Wicks in an effort to blunt the Dolphins' advantage underneath the basket.  Wicks, standing 6'8", found himself with a six inch height difference, but he responded to Wooden’s challenge by blocking Gilmore five  times, out-rebounding him 18-16, and holding him to 9-20 from the field.  Not surprisingly, the Bruins rolled to an 80-69 victory.  For Wicks’ amazing effort, he earned Most Outstanding Player in the NCAA Championship round, First Team All-America Honors, and co-Player of the Year from the Helms Athletic Foundation.  For Gilmore, the loss was a bitter pill to swallow.  He had played a dominating brand of basketball leading up to the Final Four, and he came away from that game feeling as if he did not play his best.  Even today he acknowledges that Wicks had everything to do with his sub-par play.

“Sidney certainly deserves all of the credit,” says Gilmore, when asked about his first chance to star on the big stage.  “He was able to take me out of my game, and it cost us the national championship.”

Despite the heart-wrenching loss, Gilmore did nothing to diminish his standing as the top center in collegiate basketball.  He averaged 20 points and 20 rebounds during those two seasons in Jacksonville (his 22.7 rpg is still the highest career rebounding average in NCAA Division I history), and found himself coveted by both the NBA and the ABA.  The Chicago Bulls drafted him, as did the Kentucky Colonels of the ABA, and Gilmore was faced with his first big decision as a professional.  The bidding war for his services was unprecedented for a basketball player at that time.  Kentucky eventually won out, offering him a 10-year, $2.5 million contract, and Gilmore was suddenly plying his trade in the league with the red, white and blue basketball.

Gilmore's transition to professional basketball was seamless.  He led the Colonels to a 68-14 record that first year, earning the Rookie of the Year and the Most Valuable Player awards for his outstanding play.  Statistically, he finished 10th in the league in scoring, first in rebounds, and first in field-goal percentage, but the intangibles were what really set him apart.  Gilmore was an intimidating presence underneath the basket, forcing opposing teams to alter their game plans – and opposing players to alter their shots.  As with Wilt in the early days of the NBA, there simply wasn’t a center in the ABA as  physically imposing as Gilmore.  He was big, skilled and practically unstoppable.  The Colonels, however, stumbled in the first round of 1972 ABA Playoffs, where they fell to the New York Nets in six games.

Bones McKinney, a former Boston Celtic, was among those impressed with Gilmore’s production in a league populated by stars such as Julius Erving, Charlie Scott, Rick Barry, Dan Issel, George McGinnis, George Gervin, Spencer Haywood and David Thompson.  McKinney had offered Gilmore advice while Gilmore was still in college, advice that his protégé with the towering Afro and mutton chop sideburns eagerly headed.  Gilmore played big yet within himself, dominating in a cool, economically efficient manner that would become his trademark.