"He satisfies your years with good things, so that your youth is renewed like an eagle."

Psalm 103:5

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In 1977 I was a basketball-crazy kid, who wasn’t very good at the game. I sat the end

of the bench on the sophomore team, and got cut from the JVs the next year. That summer,

the Portland Trail Blazers, my favorite team then, won the NBA championship over the

vaunted Philadelphia 76ers and Dr. J.

That ball club had a lot of larger-than-life players, none larger or livelier than the red-haired

bearded hippy center, Bill Walton. While truly a team effort, for me Walton was the man. As a

kid, I dreamed of meeting him someday.

And I thought it would be at an airport. And it was. Just not how I had planned.

The Sixers won the first two games of the NBA finals in Pennsylvania, then Portland took the

next two at home in Oregon. Game 5, back in Philly, the Blazers went off. While the final score

showed a 110-104 Portland road win, the Blazers were up 91-69 midway through the fourth

quarter. Walton had 14 points and 24 (!) rebounds in that game.

I heard on the radio the team would be flying back to Portland International Airport that Friday night, and would host game 6 on Sunday. Thinking I was the only person in the world to hear that tidbit, I coerced my ever-supportive mother to drive with me and my high school girlfriend to meet the team at the airport. We’d go right out to the gate! I’d say hi to all the players, and shake Bill Walton’s hand. Off we went on the 1-hour drive South. Some newspaper reports said 5,000 people showed up. I think that was way wrong. Everyone within 100 miles had the same bright idea!

We couldn’t get up to the gate. We couldn’t get onto the concourse. We barely were able to squeeze our way into the baggage claim area…about 20 people deep from the escalator the team “might” come down.

And then the flight was delayed. For several hours.

Finally, in the wee wee hours of Saturday, June 4, we heard cheers starting to roll through the airport above us. Louder and louder, the crescendo crashed as the Blazer players started coming down that escalator! The crowd pressed in, yelling, waving, jumping…and there, for just a moment, I saw the red head of Bill Walton, 50 feet away.

We then spent several hours trying to get out of the parking garage.

The Blazers won on Sunday, 109-107. Walton had 20 points, 23 rebounds, 8 blocks and 7 assists. He tore off his jersey and threw it into the crowd at the final buzzer. I jumped so high watching on TV at home that I actually bumped my head on the ceiling of the family room. Really.

After high school, I ended up working at basketball camps, then attended Washington State University where I became friends with several guys on the hoops team, was on a first-name basis with the head coach, George Raveling, and eventually wound up in an amazing career working in college basketball.

One day, at one of the TV games I was running, Bill Walton served as the color commentator. But, being a professional, I didn’t approach him. He had his work. I had mine. Boyhood dreams had to wait. He vanished right after the game.

Fast forward another 20 years. I’m seated on an airplane heading to Oakland, and had a brief stopover in Burbank. Who is the first passenger boarding there? Bill Walton.

All 7-feet of him hunch into the cabin, and he works his way down the aisle, avoiding all eye contact and heading straight to the exit row for the bigger leg room. He sat just three rows behind me. I figured this might be my chance.

I’d wait at the end of the jetway and see if I could say hello. But the strangest thing happened…he just didn’t get off! I waited, and waited and finally gave up. Again. Down through baggage claim and out to the parking shuttle I went.

Waiting there, a van for a local hotel pulled up and, looking to my right, here came Bill Walton hurrying to get into it.

As he loaded his bag into the back, I took a breath and stepped forward.

“Hey, Bill, I’m Don." He looked at me. "You remember those thousands of crazy fans who were at the airport in Portland in 1977? Well, I was one of them.”

Bill Walton stopped, turned, and with a huge smile said, “Of course I remember! That was the most important moment of our season! We knew we were going to win the next game. It meant everything to us. That championship changed everything for me and the team. Thank you for being there.”

And Bill Walton shook my hand. And meant it. I was that teenage boy again, but this time face-to-face with one of my youth's celebrities. 

As he scrunched his way into the shuttle van, he turned to me again and smiled, patted his heart, extended his long arms and said, “Thank you for my life.”

There’s a verse in Psalm 103:5 that says, “He satisfies your years with good things…”

No, thank You for MY life.

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(Author's Note: Several years later, Bill was the guest speaker at a gala sponsored by La Sierra University. I work with LSU's athletics program, and they invited me to the event...because they knew I'm still a Bill Walton fan-boy. Sure enough, they invited me to a special meeting with Bill and his patient wife...and I got a picture with my favorite Trail Blazer!

HOW I MET BILL WALTON