It is itself an understatement to note that Bill Walton does not deal in understatement. There is the Bill Walton character that he plays on television during—and mostly over—college basketball games. There is, presumably, an actual Bill Walton who resembles that character in some ways. But there is no circumspection or irony or distance in either; they are beings of pure unmediated overage. In his large, loud heart, it could be that Bill Walton believes that some of the 854 Grateful Dead shows he has attended were less magical than others, or that there is such a thing as a shitty Pac-10 basketball game. But the size of everything else about the man crowds this sort of thing out, and his effusiveness washes it away, and so what is left is a glad and giddy certainty.This sort of commitment is doubtless part of what made Walton one of the greatest college basketball players ever, and one of his generation's greatest big men. It has served him even better in his years after basketball, during which he has more or less been Bill Walton for a living.It is this singular Walton-ness that would move a person to ad-lib a speech about the drug war, on ESPN, while being paid to broadcast a basketball game. It—or it plus a tolerance for meandering guitar figures—is what would make a person go to 854 Grateful Dead shows over 48 years, let alone do so while trapped in a view-obstructing body that has spent much of the last two decades in a war of attrition with itself. When Walton attended the Grateful Dead's 50th anniversary shows at Levi's Stadium in Santa Clara and Soldier Field in Chicago, he was fully and floridly Walton. He livetweeted effusively; he grinned like a total love-drunk dip in photos with strangers; he got there really early and sang along and generally pioneered new horizons in Jam Dad excellence. He was, in short, about as Bill Walton as he could possibly be, and it was beautiful.Or so it seemed. The essay that Walton wrote about his recent show-going for Relix Magazine—an impossibly long-lived music publication that is still fundamentally for tape-trading Deadheads—is perhaps more Walton than any of those goofy photos or free associations about domestic policy during some dead-end Washington/Oregon State basketball game. Here are 1,000 (or so) words that supersede any picture, and which represent in their totality something like the summa of contemporary Waltonism. They are extremely overstated and emotional and unabashed; they read exactly like Walton sounds, which means that by one definition (the one I use, mostly) they are well-written. Mostly, though, they are just Bill Walton effusing Waltonly about the band he loves not wisely but too well.I recommend that you read the whole thing, but I have selected five sentences that I believe best make the argument for reading it.- "The Grateful Dead have provided me with a living, thriving, breathing, surging culture of curiosity, exploration and experimentation that has led to the spirit of generosity that I know will engulf all of us while we're here, and beyond."- "The rainbow smiling down, the multi-colored sunset, the ascending moon while we waited in the dark, and the sprinkle of raindrops—which sure seemed like tears of joy, happiness and pride from the heavens above."- "I'm sure spaceships were involved too."- "I am coming to gather strength and to be healed."- "I am grateful that Candace came out of retirement to do lights."You may have different favorites. As always with this magnificent and heroic doofus, there is more than enough—much more than enough, so much that the idea of "enough" seems pallid and silly and small—for everyone.h/t to Brendan Flynn for the link
Advertisement
Advertisement