The Clyde Lovellette Interview
By:
Michael D. McClellan
|
Thursday, September 15th,
2005
There is something sublimely
unique about the athletes of yesterday, the ones who captured the
imaginations of young fans long before their sport became the provincial
domain of Corporate America. They played the game, or they ran the race, or
they shuffled into the ring without the benefit of a guaranteed contract and
without the myriad of endorsement deals that, for the biggest names – Tiger
Woods, Andre Agassi, and Michael Jordan come to mind – generate far more
income than the salaries they earn through their chosen field of
competition. There were no agents back then, and no year-round training.
The athletes of yesterday didn't have the benefit of the latest medical
innovations, those non-invasive surgical procedures that can, for example,
repair a shredded knee and have said athlete performing again within a few
short months. (One can only wonder what Gale Sayers would have
accomplished, had the Kansas Comet been treated with the marvels of today's
medical technology.) There were no teams of lawyers, no player unions, and
no collective bargaining agreements. Free agency? Think again. The
athletes of yesterday simply played the game, or ran the race, or shuffled
into the ring for the love of competition, pushing their bodies and minds to
the limit without benefit of a twenty-four hour sports channel to beam their
exploits – via satellite, no less – to all points on the globe.
This isn’t to say that money wasn't a factor with the athletes of yesterday
– there were pros back then, too, and they certainly enjoyed pulling down a
salary for doing what they loved. It's just that the money back then was
more in line with that of the average Joe, and that the athletes of
yesterday usually worked other jobs once their sporting season had come to
an end. (And back then, the seasons did indeed end – unlike the
'round-the-clock, 'round-the-calendar leagues that seem to permeate today.)
They were more approachable, their egos not overly-inflated by the hordes of
sports agents and hangers-on that clamor for the attention of the modern-day
athlete. They were, for the most part, gentlemen. (Or, as the case may
have been, gentlewomen.) They didn't have a rap sheet to dwarf the
considerable statistics that they put up, they didn't break records with the
help of a steroid-laced syringe, and they proved to be far quicker with the
pen – autographs didn't cost a mortgage payment back then; they could
actually be had for free – than they were with a gun.
Clyde Lovellette is one such man from yesteryear, an athlete largely
forgotten by a generation of Internet-connected fans so accustomed to
instant updates that cell phones and computers have replaced television as
the primary sources of sports-related information. Were Lovellette playing
today, there would be countless web sites devoted to his considerable
basketball exploits. SportsCenter would hype him. Endorsement deals
would roll in. He would be crowned as his sport's Next Great Thing, a hoop
messiah who could play the game with equal parts skill and passion,
all-the-while impressing America's youth with unmatched dignity and grace.
To hoop historians and basketball aficionados, Lovellette is hardly a
forgotten man. He continues to tower over his sport in ways that other
athletes could only dream. He is the first player to win an NCAA
championship, an Olympic gold medal, and an NBA title – a feat that only
five other players in basketball history have duplicated.
(Bill
Russell, KC Jones, Jerry Lucas, Magic Johnson and Michael Jordan.)
He has led the
nation in scoring. He has been a collegiate player of the year, an NBA
All-Star, and a Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame inductee.
He has teamed with some of the greatest names in NBA history, counting
George Mikan and Bill Russell among those who have helped him to the
championship stage. He has been coached by legends, men with unmistakable
monikers such as "Phog" and "Red", and he has been an integral component of
the NBA's first great dynasties. In short, Clyde Edward Lovellette is
basketball royalty of the highest order.
