Even in his twilight, Jerry West’s most profound lesson was his relentless quest for the now. His life was a tapestry of singularly American tales, yet he eschewed nostalgia.
On his 86th birthday in late May, as his health waned and his time dwindled, I sent him a message of good wishes. He acknowledged his condition in his reply, then promptly requested, “Provide me with NBA updates on player movements, please…”
His voracity for free agency, the draft, and trades remained undiminished. He yearned for the unfolding narrative of an NBA he had helped shape with his brilliance, vision, and sheer tenacity. Still serving as an adviser for the LA Clippers, he spent many nights imparting his insights on games and players to Lawrence Frank, the team’s president of basketball operations.
“He never stopped,” remarked Clippers owner Steve Ballmer on Wednesday. From the rugged terrains of Cabin Creek, West Virginia, to partnering with Wilt Chamberlain and Elgin Baylor as a Laker, to scripting the LA saga of a young Kobe Bryant, to coaching, and finally becoming the league’s emblem, West’s influence permeated every facet of basketball. This summer, he will be inducted into the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame for an unprecedented third time.
West, devoid of pretension and empty praise, made time for everyone, from legends to the hopeful draft prospects he encountered at the practice facility. Observing people of a certain age approach him was akin to witnessing an Olympian descend to shake hands with mere mortals.
In many respects, West was a tortured soul, candidly recounting how an abusive father and the tragic loss of his elder brother in the Korean War etched a lifelong sorrow into his psyche. His autobiography, “West by West: My Charmed, Tormented Life,” delves deeply into these struggles.
Though not particularly joyous, West was loving, loyal, and exceedingly generous with his time and resources, both to those close to him and to near strangers.
Two summers past, he insisted on driving to the Las Vegas summer league alone. His beloved son Ryan, a Pistons executive, trailed him to ensure his safety. After a flat tire on a lonely stretch between LA and Vegas, an 84-year-old Jerry West was prepared to change it himself. The thought of encountering such a sight on that desolate highway remains surreal. When recounting the incident, his son could only laugh and shake his head. That was quintessential Jerry West.
West thrived in the context of a team, endlessly strategizing and contemplating future possibilities rather than dwelling on the past. His respect and admiration for modern players were boundless, often using his own NBA Finals defeats to defend contemporary stars facing criticism for not securing enough championships.
As player empowerment reshaped the league, West confided that he would have considered joining the Celtics if free agency had existed in the ’60s and ’70s. Nevertheless, he detested arriving in Boston, a place imbued with his old championship heartaches. “It makes me physically ill,” he once confided.
The sting of disappointment was profound, and West often recoiled from accolades. His legacy is unparalleled, the boy from Cabin Creek who authored generations of Lakers and NBA lore — from Wilt and Elgin to Kobe and Shaq. When I called to congratulate him on his third Hall of Fame induction this winter — as a player, member of the 1960 USA Olympic team, and contributor to the game — he sounded typically embarrassed and vexed by the adulation of his past achievements.
