At 85, former Knicks great is still kicking up a storm with documentary
Former Knicks star Dick Barnett, show speaking at the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame in 2019, is crusading on behalf of former Tennessee A&I coach John McLendon. (The Republican)
It was a time when the NCAA and the NIT could never be accused of being colorblind. No non-white team had ever been invited to their invitation-only block parties.
Meanwhile, down in Nashville, Tenn., a man named John McLendon had begun an incredible coaching career at what was then named Tennessee A&I College. Recognized as the first African American basketball coach at a predominantly white university and the first African American head coach in any professional sport, McLendon didn’t know it just yet, but a teenaged Renaissance man-in-training, was playing in a high school basketball game that would change both of their lives.
Dick Barnett was so poor he had yet to own a basketball. In primary school, he pretended he had one when he was throwing an old golf ball into a distant waste basket. Once he got his hands on a real ball, he wound up in the first Indiana state high school tournament game between two all-black schools. It matched Barnett with another basketball wunderkind named Oscar Robertson.
Robertson went on to the University of Cincinnati and the NBA. Barnett, who never gave a thought to college, got a surprise invitation to play for McLendon. Pause the narrative here and understand that when another player told Barnett he had a 3.0 GPA and asked him what his was, Barnett winked and said: “30 points a game.’’
By his own admission, it was a time in life when Barnett did not much care for the classroom. He would leave before graduating, but in his parting, he left a legacy that gave his coach an unheard of three straight NAIA national titles.
No team from historically black colleges had ever won an integrated national tournament. Yes, the NAIA was a small college tournament but those teams he led left giant footsteps.
He was a jump shooter’s jump shooter. You knew that as soon you saw his first shot in any game. He would jump, kick his legs back, almost so they hit him in the butt, lean his upper body back, pull the trigger and swish — two points. Then he’d whisper to the guy trying to guard him, “Too late, baby. Fall back.”
Barnett was drafted by the old Syracuse Nationals, traded to the Lakers and ultimately, to the Knicks. Over 14 NBA seasons, he averaged 15.8 points, including 23.1 in 1965-66, his first season with the Knicks. The New York team he joined might as well have played single wing basketball. They played as though they were trying ice skate uphill across a great glacier.
But Barnett was the role model that preceded the sunshine. He held the fort and then, one by one, the real players showed up. He was an integral part of the Knick’s first two championship clubs. It’s a great story. But that’s not what this is really all about.
Before basketball ended, Barnett knew he would need something to do. He went back to school. He got his bachelor’s degree from Tennessee State, his masters from NYU and his doctorate from Fordham.
But then, once again, Barnett needed something to do. He taught, wrote poetry and, finally, he took on a cause nobody appeared to care about. Think about it. This is an athlete who thinks like an educator. Subliminally, this problem had been on his mind for a long. Long time.
McLendon had been elected to the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame as an observer. Here’s a coach who won three NAIA national titles, 523 games and a pioneer who refined the fast break as an offensive maneuver. He did this by having his players run behind his car.
Barnett, who today is 85, and most caring people felt that honoring McLendon as just an observer had its roots in racism. He fixed that through sheer determination. But there was another slight that required tremendous determination.
It involved the three straight NAIA title-winning teams that Barnett captained. Year after year, he lobbied the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame. Year after year, his campaign was ignored or rejected. Year after year, he stubbornly came back.
The battle took 60 years. Don Quixote never fought a tougher windmill. This last personifies his belief that as an octogenarian a dream is a dream worth pursuing.
But don’t take my word for it. Barnett has put it all together in a fine documentary called “The Dream Whisperer.’’ It will debut April 30 in Los Angeles at the 30th annual Pan-African Film and Arts Festival.
When I watched the rough cut, my mind went back to those magic nights at Madison Square Garden when Barnett was airborne, legs kicked out behind him, upper body leaning back as he took the shot.
Just as my old friend, the late Dave Anderson of the New York Times, described it: “You had to wonder which direction the ball was headed but you could be damned sure it was going in the basket.”
At 85, former Knicks great is still kicking up a storm with documentary
Former Knicks star Dick Barnett, show speaking at the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame in 2019, is crusading on behalf of former Tennessee A&I coach John McLendon. (The Republican)
It was a time when the NCAA and the NIT could never be accused of being colorblind. No non-white team had ever been invited to their invitation-only block parties.
Meanwhile, down in Nashville, Tenn., a man named John McLendon had begun an incredible coaching career at what was then named Tennessee A&I College. Recognized as the first African American basketball coach at a predominantly white university and the first African American head coach in any professional sport, McLendon didn’t know it just yet, but a teenaged Renaissance man-in-training, was playing in a high school basketball game that would change both of their lives.
Dick Barnett was so poor he had yet to own a basketball. In primary school, he pretended he had one when he was throwing an old golf ball into a distant waste basket. Once he got his hands on a real ball, he wound up in the first Indiana state high school tournament game between two all-black schools. It matched Barnett with another basketball wunderkind named Oscar Robertson.
Robertson went on to the University of Cincinnati and the NBA. Barnett, who never gave a thought to college, got a surprise invitation to play for McLendon. Pause the narrative here and understand that when another player told Barnett he had a 3.0 GPA and asked him what his was, Barnett winked and said: “30 points a game.’’
By his own admission, it was a time in life when Barnett did not much care for the classroom. He would leave before graduating, but in his parting, he left a legacy that gave his coach an unheard of three straight NAIA national titles.
No team from historically black colleges had ever won an integrated national tournament. Yes, the NAIA was a small college tournament but those teams he led left giant footsteps.
He was a jump shooter’s jump shooter. You knew that as soon you saw his first shot in any game. He would jump, kick his legs back, almost so they hit him in the butt, lean his upper body back, pull the trigger and swish — two points. Then he’d whisper to the guy trying to guard him, “Too late, baby. Fall back.”
Barnett was drafted by the old Syracuse Nationals, traded to the Lakers and ultimately, to the Knicks. Over 14 NBA seasons, he averaged 15.8 points, including 23.1 in 1965-66, his first season with the Knicks. The New York team he joined might as well have played single wing basketball. They played as though they were trying ice skate uphill across a great glacier.
But Barnett was the role model that preceded the sunshine. He held the fort and then, one by one, the real players showed up. He was an integral part of the Knick’s first two championship clubs. It’s a great story. But that’s not what this is really all about.
Before basketball ended, Barnett knew he would need something to do. He went back to school. He got his bachelor’s degree from Tennessee State, his masters from NYU and his doctorate from Fordham.
But then, once again, Barnett needed something to do. He taught, wrote poetry and, finally, he took on a cause nobody appeared to care about. Think about it. This is an athlete who thinks like an educator. Subliminally, this problem had been on his mind for a long. Long time.
McLendon had been elected to the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame as an observer. Here’s a coach who won three NAIA national titles, 523 games and a pioneer who refined the fast break as an offensive maneuver. He did this by having his players run behind his car.
Barnett, who today is 85, and most caring people felt that honoring McLendon as just an observer had its roots in racism. He fixed that through sheer determination. But there was another slight that required tremendous determination.
It involved the three straight NAIA title-winning teams that Barnett captained. Year after year, he lobbied the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame. Year after year, his campaign was ignored or rejected. Year after year, he stubbornly came back.
The battle took 60 years. Don Quixote never fought a tougher windmill. This last personifies his belief that as an octogenarian a dream is a dream worth pursuing.
But don’t take my word for it. Barnett has put it all together in a fine documentary called “The Dream Whisperer.’’ It will debut April 30 in Los Angeles at the 30th annual Pan-African Film and Arts Festival.
When I watched the rough cut, my mind went back to those magic nights at Madison Square Garden when Barnett was airborne, legs kicked out behind him, upper body leaning back as he took the shot.
Just as my old friend, the late Dave Anderson of the New York Times, described it: “You had to wonder which direction the ball was headed but you could be damned sure it was going in the basket.”