Games…
The first thing I discovered when getting acclimated to France was that they didn’t eat meals like we did. An American meal was a sit down where everything was on the table and you took what you wanted and ate it, whereas the French ate in stages. Nobody told me that, of course, so my first lunch came with the team president and the coach and out came the first course, which was a sausage tray, with bread. I thought that was lunch and ate a huge plate of the stuff. Those guys must have thought “boy, this guy can eat!” Then, the second course came out, but I was full. First lesson learned.
The next thing I discovered came at our first team practice. I knew instantly that I was going to make this team, because I was better than anyone they had. The question was, as it always was for Americans, would I not get homesick. I had spent my whole college career away from home, so in my case, that wasn’t likely. In the mid 1970’s, American players were vastly better than their European counterparts. It would be similar to how Americans today view European soccer players. They are more skilled and have a certain flair and instinct that Americans have yet to achieve. I like to believe that it was our generation in the 70’s that began to change things for the Europeans. They brought us over there and learned from us. I remember one time over there doing a basketball camp in Poitiers for young French players. Everyday, I would eat lunch and then go to the gym to get some work done before the afternoon session. And everyday, 30 or 40 French kids would come in and just watch. What I got in trouble for at Wyoming- the Maravich stuff- they loved. Their big guys were kind of stiffs- and here were 6’8”, 6’9”, 6’10” Americans who had style, had some funk, and some flair.
Each French team was allowed two foreign players on their roster. I have heard that it is still that way today, but there have always been ways around it if your team could afford more foreign players. Usually, the more American players you had, the better your team was going to be. The biggest way around the two foreigner limit was to get your guys married to French women. The French were very loose about granting citizenship to men who married French women. Our team in Angouleme could not afford more than two foreigners, so it was me and a 6’9”guy from Senegal. Senegalese players were usually tall and athletic, but not very skilled. And they didn’t require large salaries. The team was already in season when I arrived and, as I learned, I was replacing another American who did not acclimate well and had gone home. Herb Rudoy had been contacted, and I was on his list, thanks to Jack McCloskey. Just a few days after I arrived, therefore, we had a game. Games back then were always on the weekends so people could come and watch. Soccer was the only sport that could pull off mid-week games, because it was and still is the most popular sport in Europe. By the time I arrived, basketball had crept up into the number two popularity position, just edging out rugby.
We were playing a team from the northeastern part of France, Mulhouse. Their best player was an American from New York- Fordham University. His name was David Brower. I had never heard of him, but the French guys all knew of him and the ones who spoke American told me to watch out for Brower. He was one of the leading scorers in the league, and was also rough and even dirty. He was about my height, 6’8”, but about twenty pounds heavier. I thought it would be nice to see another American, but it wasn’t that way at all. Brower started talking trash immediately and really playing a physical brand of ball. And, yes, even a little dirty. I hung in there, though, and thought I was having a pretty good game by halftime. I was rebounding, passing, and being a good teammate. Mulhouse had a better team than us, so they were up 10 at the break. I came into the locker room and was met instantly by the owner and the coach- neither of whom were very happy. I had only scored 6 points. They began gesturing with their arms in a shooting motion saying “shoot, shoot”. That was the first time in my basketball career where someone was mad at me because I wasn’t shooting enough. Brower had 14 points, so in the game within a game, I was making a negative difference. So, the second half I went out and, for the first time in my life, thought that I had to score points. I scored 24 points, which felt amazing. I ended up with 30 and Brower had 24. I more than held up my end of the bargain and it was the French players who didn’t, as we lost by 3. I still thought losing was bad, but the owner, the coach, and the players were so happy. I had never scored 30 points in a game in my life.
That season, in which I played just over half of the games, I averaged right at 28 points a game. It was work and you always had to play lots of minutes, but it was fun. The game within the game was always trying to outscore other Americans. I was able to travel all over the country that first year and really came to love France and appreciate the people. My good friend from Perry’s Sport Camp, Mike Dolven from Washington State was there when I got there also. He was playing for a very good team in Paris, and when I had a chance I went up to see him, and see Paris. The first night I got there, we were driving on the main street, the Champs-Elysees, and were going towards the Arc de Triumph when his car broke down. We had to get out and push, and all of the French drivers were giving us the business because we were blocking traffic. I didn’t care, though, because here I was, this kid from Phoenix, Arizona, looking at the brightly lit Arc de Triumph on the main street of the most beautiful city in the world. That was a long way from the concrete court at Papago Elementary School where I had a 20 second career. There were no cell phones- no way to contact my friends and family. How would they ever understand all of this?
What the Universe was doing for me also has come to full realization now, because the woman I have been married to for the past 45 years was introduced to me on my third day in Angouleme. Everything I had ever done in basketball put me in that little gym where she was doing some training for little kids. They introduced me to Brigitte because she spoke pretty good English and maybe they would get lucky and I would marry her and change my citizenship to French. I did marry her, as mentioned, but by then had moved to a team in Paris. That team offered me a bonus to change my citizenship, so one day we went over to the American Embassy and sat down to discuss the options. There were no options. If I changed my citizenship, I would be French- period. I said “yeah, but you know I’m really an American, right?” The guy said no- you’ll be French. I couldn’t pull the trigger on that one. A lot of guys didn’t bother to tell the Americans that they were changing, and the French didn’t tell either, so they were walking around with two passports. So, I was always a foreigner on the roster.
Next…the career…
The first thing I discovered when getting acclimated to France was that they didn’t eat meals like we did. An American meal was a sit down where everything was on the table and you took what you wanted and ate it, whereas the French ate in stages. Nobody told me that, of course, so my first lunch came with the team president and the coach and out came the first course, which was a sausage tray, with bread. I thought that was lunch and ate a huge plate of the stuff. Those guys must have thought “boy, this guy can eat!” Then, the second course came out, but I was full. First lesson learned.
The next thing I discovered came at our first team practice. I knew instantly that I was going to make this team, because I was better than anyone they had. The question was, as it always was for Americans, would I not get homesick. I had spent my whole college career away from home, so in my case, that wasn’t likely. In the mid 1970’s, American players were vastly better than their European counterparts. It would be similar to how Americans today view European soccer players. They are more skilled and have a certain flair and instinct that Americans have yet to achieve. I like to believe that it was our generation in the 70’s that began to change things for the Europeans. They brought us over there and learned from us. I remember one time over there doing a basketball camp in Poitiers for young French players. Everyday, I would eat lunch and then go to the gym to get some work done before the afternoon session. And everyday, 30 or 40 French kids would come in and just watch. What I got in trouble for at Wyoming- the Maravich stuff- they loved. Their big guys were kind of stiffs- and here were 6’8”, 6’9”, 6’10” Americans who had style, had some funk, and some flair.
Each French team was allowed two foreign players on their roster. I have heard that it is still that way today, but there have always been ways around it if your team could afford more foreign players. Usually, the more American players you had, the better your team was going to be. The biggest way around the two foreigner limit was to get your guys married to French women. The French were very loose about granting citizenship to men who married French women. Our team in Angouleme could not afford more than two foreigners, so it was me and a 6’9”guy from Senegal. Senegalese players were usually tall and athletic, but not very skilled. And they didn’t require large salaries. The team was already in season when I arrived and, as I learned, I was replacing another American who did not acclimate well and had gone home. Herb Rudoy had been contacted, and I was on his list, thanks to Jack McCloskey. Just a few days after I arrived, therefore, we had a game. Games back then were always on the weekends so people could come and watch. Soccer was the only sport that could pull off mid-week games, because it was and still is the most popular sport in Europe. By the time I arrived, basketball had crept up into the number two popularity position, just edging out rugby.
We were playing a team from the northeastern part of France, Mulhouse. Their best player was an American from New York- Fordham University. His name was David Brower. I had never heard of him, but the French guys all knew of him and the ones who spoke American told me to watch out for Brower. He was one of the leading scorers in the league, and was also rough and even dirty. He was about my height, 6’8”, but about twenty pounds heavier. I thought it would be nice to see another American, but it wasn’t that way at all. Brower started talking trash immediately and really playing a physical brand of ball. And, yes, even a little dirty. I hung in there, though, and thought I was having a pretty good game by halftime. I was rebounding, passing, and being a good teammate. Mulhouse had a better team than us, so they were up 10 at the break. I came into the locker room and was met instantly by the owner and the coach- neither of whom were very happy. I had only scored 6 points. They began gesturing with their arms in a shooting motion saying “shoot, shoot”. That was the first time in my basketball career where someone was mad at me because I wasn’t shooting enough. Brower had 14 points, so in the game within a game, I was making a negative difference. So, the second half I went out and, for the first time in my life, thought that I had to score points. I scored 24 points, which felt amazing. I ended up with 30 and Brower had 24. I more than held up my end of the bargain and it was the French players who didn’t, as we lost by 3. I still thought losing was bad, but the owner, the coach, and the players were so happy. I had never scored 30 points in a game in my life.
That season, in which I played just over half of the games, I averaged right at 28 points a game. It was work and you always had to play lots of minutes, but it was fun. The game within the game was always trying to outscore other Americans. I was able to travel all over the country that first year and really came to love France and appreciate the people. My good friend from Perry’s Sport Camp, Mike Dolven from Washington State was there when I got there also. He was playing for a very good team in Paris, and when I had a chance I went up to see him, and see Paris. The first night I got there, we were driving on the main street, the Champs-Elysees, and were going towards the Arc de Triumph when his car broke down. We had to get out and push, and all of the French drivers were giving us the business because we were blocking traffic. I didn’t care, though, because here I was, this kid from Phoenix, Arizona, looking at the brightly lit Arc de Triumph on the main street of the most beautiful city in the world. That was a long way from the concrete court at Papago Elementary School where I had a 20 second career. There were no cell phones- no way to contact my friends and family. How would they ever understand all of this?
What the Universe was doing for me also has come to full realization now, because the woman I have been married to for the past 45 years was introduced to me on my third day in Angouleme. Everything I had ever done in basketball put me in that little gym where she was doing some training for little kids. They introduced me to Brigitte because she spoke pretty good English and maybe they would get lucky and I would marry her and change my citizenship to French. I did marry her, as mentioned, but by then had moved to a team in Paris. That team offered me a bonus to change my citizenship, so one day we went over to the American Embassy and sat down to discuss the options. There were no options. If I changed my citizenship, I would be French- period. I said “yeah, but you know I’m really an American, right?” The guy said no- you’ll be French. I couldn’t pull the trigger on that one. A lot of guys didn’t bother to tell the Americans that they were changing, and the French didn’t tell either, so they were walking around with two passports. So, I was always a foreigner on the roster.
Next…the career…
