Remembering the little friendly giant...
“Buddy” the LeBron James of Barbados
Yes, we all saw it and heard it - up close and in person. A woman got up in front of the podium and said ““Buddy” was ‘our LeBron James.’” And then, folks starting clapping and cheering. And some even stood up. A standing ovation. I saw Kelly clapping. But the rest of the Wingate gang was like, “Nah man, we ain’t having it. We want Mueller to investigate this after he’s finish with Trump.”
Well imagine that. Ain’t that ah hmm, hmm, hmm.... Buddy got some real jokes.
Only Buddy could have a room filled with Wingate ball players (some of the most disagreeable and argumentative folks on the planet) listening to someone calling him LeBron James. Yea Buddy, you’re ah bad man. Buddy made sure we all understood that he wasn’t only the commander and chief of Wingate Park, but that he had a whole country who would come out to see him play back in the day when he had an Afro. Ha, ha, ha - Buddy with hair!
Buddy was a serious ball player who had once played for the Barbados national basketball team.
The greatness and respect Buddy commanded was seen through the generations of Wingate ballers who came out to pay their respects to Buddy. From both veterans of the past, and newcomers like Winston, Big Dave, Slick, JR, Rick, Trev, and Trev and Trev, Karl, Zanda, Kelly, Gus, Brandon, King, Delroy, Shaka, Jamal, the Brownies, June (with no green on) and Big Mike, Herm, the Honorable Mayor “Roti,” Pope Leo, Lord Damien, Kev, Roland and Jonesy - just to name a few among many, many others.
Buddy was one of the nicest human beings you could ever meet. Buddy got along with everyone. If you couldn’t get along with Buddy, there was something definitely wrong with you.
HOWEVER, on the court he was as competitive as anyone who ever stepped between the lines. Buddy’s expectation was to win all the time and losing was not an option. He didn’t just want to win - he wanted to win with distinction, and send a message to the opponent and to everyone who was watching.
Buddy was a motivational speaker on the court. I remember a game back in the Flat top or Jerry curl period when Buddy and his boys at that time (Big Malcolm, Claudie and Trev) were behind. Buddy screamed “Give me the ball!” and went off. Malcolm hit, like, three quick jump hooks in the middle and Buddy yelled at him for missing an easy ‘put back’ on the fourth attempt that he eventually scored on anyway. Then Claudie hit, about, like three of those ugly jumpers where he’s loading from behind his head and Buddy yelled at him. And the Trev started hitting lay-up after lay-up and Buddy yelled at him. Buddy won that game 16 to 3, but Buddy still walked back to the bench pissed and cursing (nicely) that they had ever trailed in that game. Buddy then looks at me smiling and says “You know what I’m talking about, Trev.” I’m thinking ‘damnm’ “Imagine if they had missed some shots.” Motivation indeed. Lesson learned.
Buddy was nothing but love (cough, cough, cough) unless you bumped into him on the court. Back in the late 80s there was this real cool African guy we called Taxi because he drove his taxi to the park and would always take a break to play some ball on the “other courts” as Buddy would say for “scrubs.” Hey, I’m just telling the story here, so if your feelings get hurt, it has nothing to do with me. Everyone in Wingate knows that folks start playing on the back courts - then work their way to the end courts near Rutland Avenue. And if your game gets better you can eventually move up to the middle courts. And if you really have some kind of game you can maybe get picked by someone to play the main court. And of course, it is the unwritten rule that “scrubs” can’t call “Next” on the main court. Ever! No, no, no, no, no, Nah, that just doesn’t happen.
Well, on this fateful or unlucky morning there was a time gap between when the morning crew (usually me, Gus, Bruce, Boz, Ed and John) finish playing and then the mid-morning crew - Buddy and his boys (Trev, Rick, Claudie, George, Malcolm, Puerto Rican Dave, Greg, Winston and Rob - I can’t remember the others anymore) would come on. Anyway, somewhere between our normal change-over Taxi called “Next.”
Everyone knows Buddy never started changing into his playing sneakers from slippers, or make that wardrobe change and slop on all that smelly “Buddy Juice” all over his knees, elbows, and back - oh hell, on any part that moved except his bald head - before the game was over. So as we were leaving and Buddy had finally made his way on to the court - Taxi objected, said it again “I called “Next!””
My-o-My-o-My... You could hear a pin drop. It seemed like the wind stopped blowing and birds stopped tweeting. Taxi had broken Wingate sacred rule #1- section 1: ‘Scrubs cannot call “Next” on the main court during prime time.’ And to make matters worse, he had just challenged the commander and chief - Buddy - in broad daylight.
Normally, Taxi would have been ignored and the next game would have begun with Taxi being the new invisible man. But for some reason, Buddy shocked everyone and said okay. “Taxi get your squad.” Poor Taxi, I suspect Buddy wanted this to be a teachable moment. It’s a good thing the Honorable Roti was not there. He would have surely been dancing and singing his immigrant song.
I went back to the bleachers and stayed past my normal departure time to see what was going to happen. The Wingate squirrels grabbed their nuts and moved into the prime seats in the overhead branches to see what was going to happen. Back then Wingate squirrels were vegetarians. Not like these meat-eating, beer-drinking gentrifying squirrels and birds we see at the park today. Imagine that, birds eating ‘chicken’? Anyway, I digress.
I don’t remember who joined Taxi on the court and I am sure they would not want their names to be mentioned in this context or story. What I do remember is once the game started, it was Buddy, from the left, Buddy from the right, Buddy from the key, Buddy down low, Buddy with the lay-up, Buddy with the reverse. It was Buddy, Buddy, Buddy. The only thing Buddy didn’t do was dunk the ball. And he might have if he really wanted to. Buddy had mad hops back then. Buddy destroyed Taxi and crew 16-0 in what seemed like a minute. Buddy scored all the points. But in all that, the thing I will always remember most is Buddy telling Taxi after the beat down “I’ve got nothing but love for you, man” and the both of them hugging and laughing.
Needless to say, I never saw anyone challenge Buddy over “Next” again.
Now Buddy wasn’t always that nice to me on the court either. Because of my size I was often matched up against Buddy. He was a serious problem. Quick, agile, strong, physical, could jump and had range on his shot - equals trouble with a capital ‘T’. Buddy was an extremely intelligent ball player who knew his strengths and worked at exposing your weaknesses quickly and thoroughly. Playing against Buddy was a challenge because of his skill set and competitive attitude.
I survived my Buddy basketball encounters simply because he absolutely hated chasing after me all over the court, and back in the day hand checking was allowed. It’s a very different game when you can hand check someone. And yet there were days like when I distinctly remember my teammate Sir John pulling me over during a game, and asking me in a very John-like manner, if I planned to stay in front Buddy anytime soon as it was getting late in the game and Buddy had just blown by me three times in a row.
Understanding, the seriousness of my predicament and that I was facing John sending me to the bench in the middle of a game (yes, a very Brown-like dismissal) - I pushed Buddy to one side (left) and leaned on his right hand so he had no chance of shooting or using that nasty crossover after dipping his shoulder. Buddy was frustrated. I thought I had finally figured out how to contain Buddy. And then Buddy threw his hands up in exasperation and screamed “Can somebody please get this guy off of me?” The next thing I remember was running into a wall called “Claudie.” It was a good night. I did tell you he was a very intelligent ball player.
I will miss Buddy - his mischievous laugh, our talks on basketball and the smell of that mixture of ointments he plastered all over himself. I will miss bothering him by checking to see if his colors all matched. And asking if Sue knows he left the house with the wrong color socks. I will definitely miss him screaming out Sean’s name and shaking his head when he realized that Sean had again hidden his coffee or sneakers.
No one can really say they played ball at Wingate if they didn’t know Buddy.
There is no replacement for Buddy. Like John said to me earlier this week - “It is the end of an era.”
Rest in peace my friend...
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