The Day that Class Died...

I was leaving a restaurant this morning, feeling a bit worn out by a week of personal difficulties when I passed newspaper box blaring surprising news.

No, not the fact that Fast Eddie Vrodolyak avoided jail. Chicago pols don’t go to lock up unless they want to lose weight or get away from their spouse.

Norm van Lier, Chicago Bull standout and sportscaster, died.

Let me the first to admit that I am not a huge roundball fan. I can take it or leave it. The rhythm of the game is quite beautiful, and the level of skill required to play it at the professional level is nothing short of astonishing. I have been put off, however, by the off court antics of so many of the athletes. Having worked extensively with children, I know these young men are role models, and down deep, they know it. They shouldn’t be…we all understand what role parents and communities should play, et al. In reality, though, for so many young men, ballers typify how to walk, talk, and live, and frankly of late, they are doing such a piss poor job of it.

Van Lier played when I was a little boy, before sneaker companies turned high school seniors into millionaires. Perhaps the press was friendlier then. Perhaps there was little which he gave them to exploit in their medium. Who knows? One thing that I remember is hearing about the intensity with which he played on the court. ”Stormin’ Norman” was his court persona. That bit of theater meant to help sell tickets and allow a man to do a tough job to the best of his ability. I never heard about the life n Lier led off the court, short of him occasionally showing up in Rush Street night clubs. He went to work, made his money, lived quietly and comfortably, and loved his life. Later, when I’d see van Lier on TV, he was always a gentleman, genial, courteous, and down to earth. He didn’t try to make basketball appear like rocket science, but he provided commentary that gave the players their due while keeping the game in its proper perspective: as a game.

As I grow older, I pray for the wisdom and the strength to live one day at a time, treat those as I want to be treated, and remember that few things are as bad as they seem. I strive to remember that people recall you more fondly for your laughing and giving than they do for your anger and petulance. I work at providing the world more than it gives me, and work to leave it a better place than I found it. Taking little very seriously but respecting everything as if it matters deeply to someone else.

Norm van Lier lived that life. It was a life of class. It is sorely missing in today’s professional sportsman. I pray that with his passing we haven’t seen the last of quality in such short supply among our athletes.