Becoming Kareem: Chapters 26–31

Half the world was chanting his name in praise; the other half was sharpening pitchforks and lighting torches to go after the “upstart Negro.”

To me, he epitomized the athlete with moral integrity and personal courage. The kind of man I hoped one day to become.

When I first met Muhammad Ali, he was performing magic tricks on Hollywood Boulevard. I was a freshman walking down the street with two of my buddies when we saw him strolling along with a small entourage, doing sleight -of-hand illusions for fans who would come up to him.

Despite his legal problems with the government and his tumultuous professional career, here he was, casually sauntering down the street as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

Despite his legal problems with the government and his tumultuous professional career, here he was, casually sauntering down the street as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

No matter how many people were around, he was the only one you looked at. He exuded confidence, a sense of purpose, and an undeniable joy.

By cannily playing the obnoxious court jester for TV cameras, Muhammad’s brash, outrageous antics ensured that Something Would Happen.

By cannily playing the obnoxious court jester for TV cameras, Muhammad’s brash, outrageous antics ensured that Something Would Happen.

By cannily playing the obnoxious court jester for TV cameras, Muhammad’s brash, outrageous antics ensured that Something Would Happen.

He riled up white folks so much that they would pay anything to see this uppity young black boy put back in his place.

If you were smart and wanted to maintain a successful career, you kept your dark head down and your mouth shut, and occasionally you rhapsodized about how grateful and blessed you felt to be an American.

His refusal to submit to the draft during the Vietnam War on the grounds that “my conscience won’t let me go shoot my brother, or some darker people” caused him to be sentenced to five years in prison, fined $10,000, and banned from boxing for three years.

His refusal to submit to the draft during the Vietnam War on the grounds that “my conscience won’t let me go shoot my brother, or some darker people” caused him to be sentenced to five years in prison, fined $10,000, and banned from boxing for three years.

Most of the moves involved physically roughing me up on the court so I would be prepared for what I would be facing from meatier, more aggressive players trying to neutralize my height.

Some people blamed their poor season on our demoralizing victory over them, but Coach Wooden emphatically denied that.

Some people blamed their poor season on our demoralizing victory over them, but Coach Wooden emphatically denied that.

We had gone to the restaurant to bond over steak and basketball and our intertwined futures, but we ended up being inexorably connected by what had happened in the parking lot.

I had always been an avid reader, but now I was reading more intellectually challenging material.

But there was one book, published just a few months earlier, that I was especially compelled to read: The Autobiography of Malcolm X.

Malcolm X, a fiery civil rights orator who had spoken aggressively against racism, had been assassinated a year earlier by three men from the Nation of Islam.

In the popular young adult novel The Fault in Our Stars, John Green writes, “Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book.”

I was riveted by Malcolm’s intimate story of how he came to realize he’d been the victim of institutional racism, which had imprisoned him long before he’d landed in an actual prison.

To him, Christianity was a foundation of the white culture responsible for enslaving black people and a support for the racism that permeated society.

The Autobiography of Malcolm X starts as a political awakening, with Malcolm’s angry polemic against white devils and a call to end racism “by any means necessary.”

But toward the end of the book, Malcolm begins to reject the hatred and violence that defined the Nation of Islam and embrace orthodox Sunni Islam.

He showed up every day in his T-shirt, shorts, and athletic socks and shoes, a jacket with the word “Coach” on the back, and a whistle around his neck that seemed somehow louder and more accusatory than any whistle I’d ever heard before.

Coach shook his head. Back in 1949, the UCLA football coach Henry Russell “Red” Sanders had uttered those immortal words after a loss to USC. Immediately, coaches everywhere had used it as a mantra to whip up their players into a winning frenzy.

His job and our scholarships depended on winning—that was a fiscal reality.

It took me years to fully appreciate this lesson. As a freshman, I admired Coach’s sentiment even if I thought it was too esoteric. To me, you worked hard to beat your opponents.

The two of us must have looked a little incongruous, with a five-foot-ten man standing on the sidelines next to his seven-foot-two center and demonstrating the fundamentals of rebounding.

“If you are in the proper position, strength doesn’t make a difference. All that contact around the basket is an effort to get the best position. Being quicker than your opponent to get that position negates his physical advantage.”

“It’s an almost unstoppable shot,” he told me. “If you can perfect it, it will enable you to dominate.” Whatever furthered the artistry and aesthetic of basketball while increasing scoring potential, he liked.

“So how should we handle this?”
Was he asking me? I just work here, I wanted to say. But he waited for me to answer. His patience was unnerving.

We finished the season 30-0, reclaiming the NCAA National Basketball Championship for Coach Wooden and UCLA.

Coach Wooden tried to downplay the press coverage to relieve the pressure it put on me.

I felt disconcerted about my fame because I didn’t yet know what to do with it. I had a lot of political opinions, and now I had a national platform.

The loss of his friend, as well as the knowledge that it could have been he who died, made Coach cherish the sacrifices of soldiers. It also made him less tolerant of those who shirked their military duty.

Despite my growing political activism, I still loved basketball.

To me, he was like the US Constitution: The original had some flaws (like not providing rights for women and permitting slavery), but it also had provisions to evolve with the times, to grow in order to fulfill the spirit of equality that defined the document—this defined Coach’s personal philosophy.

Winning a basketball game wasn’t the same as trying to secure voting rights, educational opportunities, and jobs for the disenfranchised.