What I Learned From a Teenage Scottie Pippen

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

I was leaning against the wall at the end of the basketball court, camera and notepad in hand. These gyms in these small towns are small. There’s only a few feet between the wall and the court.

I watched the teams warm up, feeling nervous as I entered a new world. I was from the mountains in East Tennessee where there are few black people. Here I was one of the few white people. Because I was from the newspaper, they were polite, but didn’t say much.

I was taking in all the sights and sounds of the dimly lit, rickety gym in Hamburg, Arkansas that was quickly filling. The sounds, smells, and visuals were overwhelming.

A voice suddenly broke through the din and haze.

The wake-up call

“Hey Mister Newspaper, take my picture?” a young Scottie Pippen said.

I looked at him and smiled. We made eye contact, and he grinned at me. We both laughed.

At that time, he was barely a starter on his basketball team. Just a good-natured happy kid interacting with his world. It was unusual for a newspaper reporter to be there, and he was the one brave enough to interact.

Something clicked in me at that moment. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew my life had changed.

It was my first job out of college, and I was 1,000 miles from home. I was out of place doing a sports story as a news reporter. I was around people who were different than me. I was a bit nervous, but it was not uncomfortable.

I started working there toward the end of football season, and I helped by covering Friday night football games. My pictures came out better than I expected, and it was fun.

But when basketball season rolled around, it got a lot more personal. Covering basketball is much different than football. There is a distance in football, but not in basketball. The players are just a few feet away.

In an enclosed area like this, the sound is multiplied. It was a deep sensory experience, but Pippen brought it into the real world for me.

He stood out because he was real. He was loud but not obnoxious. He had no fear or preconceived ideas about me. I was just a new person in his world, and he said hello in a way only he could do it.

What it meant

When he said “Hey Mister Newspaper,” he recognized me and welcomed me into his world. I was not some white guy with a notepad, and he was not some black kid on the court — we were just two people caught up in the moment.

It was my first honest interaction with a person darker than me. My first time to “get” what sports are really about and how they transcend things like race or age. My desire to become a sportswriter was born.

That is the reason I remembered Pippen. At that time, he was a decent player but nothing special. The star on that team was Myron Jackson, who also went on to the NBA.

Pippen did not blossom until he got to college. He started college as a walk-on and was one of the best players in the world when he was done. I was very happy for him when I saw him get drafted in the NBA and win championships alongside Michael Jordan.

I too moved on. I became a sports writer and won a lot of awards in different states for my sports reporting and photography.

Still, it’s that “Hey Mister Newspaper,” that sticks with me.

A deeper lesson

I was very naive about racial relations and did not even know racist lingo. The Pippen thing was fun, but there were serious lessons as well.

Some time later, I approached the coach after a game to get a quote for my story.

“Your boys looked good out there tonight, didn’t they?” Asking a leading question, figuring he would take that as a cue to give me some coach-speak.

He glared, one eyebrow up like I’d lit a fuse. “What you mean, boys?” he said, voice rising.
“Uh, your team?” I stammered, totally lost.
His frown broke into a smile. “You really don’t know, do you, son?” He chuckled, shaking his head.
“No sir,” I said, still baffled.

We would laugh about it later over lunch. He enjoyed ribbing me by saying “boy” a lot.

That too was part of my education about racism in the Arkansas side of the Mississippi Delta.

“Mister Newspaper” had welcomed me, but the coach showed me I had things to learn.