September 21, 1999 — Marvin Mukthar Williams was stretching, just like any other athlete does.
He propped his leg up onto the bleacher, leaned forward and reached for his toes.
Game time was near, so the 26-year-old lifted his limp leg with his hands and placed it back into his wheelchair. He strapped himself in.
“You’re going to be sore tomorrow,” he said looking up at me, smiling. “It’s just like trying to walk on your hands.”
Williams, of Gainesville, is a member of the Atlanta Rolling Hawks, a wheelchair basketball team in town last week to show a crowd at the West Hall High gymnasium how the sport is supposed to be played.
I was on the other team. Made up primarily of local media types, we provided the spectators with a stark contrast to the Hawks — and plenty of comic relief.
I felt like a member of the Washington Generals.
The Hawks, sponsored by the NBA team of the same name, are part of the National Wheelchair Basketball Association. Founded in 1948, the NWBA is comprised of 181 teams within 22 conferences throughout the United States and Canada.
The Hawks were the Division III Southeastern Conference champions in 1998.
Williams, in a wheelchair for 11 years, just started playing with the Hawks a few months ago.
“I’ve been looking for something like this for a long time,” Williams said, caressing the basketball on his lap.
When Williams was a 15-year-old freshman at Jefferson High he had a 42-inch vertical leap and spent about as much time looking down at the rim as up. Ironically, it was during one of his many acrobatic dunk attempts that Williams’ high flying life changed forever.
“Somebody cut my legs out from under me and I broke my back,” he said matter-of-factly. Williams has been paralyzed from the waist down ever since.
His dunking career is over, but now thanks to the Rolling Hawks, Williams can once again play the sport he loves.
“It’s just a joy to me,” he said. “It feels like I’m back in high school again.”
And Williams’ joy was apparent Thursday night. Although I’m not sure if his constant smile was brought on by the thrill of the game or the farcical exploits of his “able bodied” opponents.
For a while, it looked like we were playing bumper cars out there.
“Pick and roll, that’s the wheelchair basketball game,” said Rolling Hawk Ricardo Casteneda, 40, of Atlanta, a star on the Mexican Paralympic team.
The Hawks hit us — often. That was expected.
But on my team, it often seemed as if we were screening each other. This wasn’t planned. We just couldn’t get our darn wheelchairs to go the way we wanted them to.
And when we did, we usually couldn’t stop or turn, or do anything else, with much accuracy.
Needless to say, launching a couple of air balls was the least of my worries. Simply getting a shot off felt like a major accomplishment.
I remember one time when I was alone at midcourt with nothing but open floor before me. The ball was headed my way. I was going to roll in for the easy layup — I was sure of it.
But once the ball arrived, I realized that I also had to move. Well, I spazzed. I think that’s the best way to describe it.
I tried to catch the ball and push one of my wheels at the same time. And I just spun there at center court.
By that time, the defense was on me. I lost the ball. It rolled one way. I rolled the other.
How frustrating. I knew where I wanted to go. I knew how I wanted to get there. But I couldn’t. I was always one step — or roll — behind. These so-called “disabled” athletes raced by me right and left.
But I guess that’s kind of the point.
“People take for granted guys going around in wheelchairs and how they cope,” said 29-year-old Steve Pearce, of Atlanta, who was shot through the spine during a carjacking less than two years ago. “But when you see actually how good we can get on the floor, it’s quite something.”
It can be quite motivating, as well. Chris Smith, a 9-year-old Flowery Branch Elementary student, watched the Rolling Hawks with great interest from his wheelchair.
“I’ve tried to play (basketball) with friends before, but they were all higher than me, so I decided to be the ref during those games,” said Smith, who has spina bifida. “I’ve dreamed about playing wheelchair basketball. It’s one of my goals.”
Smith got his chance Thursday night after my game, as the Hawks let members of the audience give the sport a try.
“I especially enjoyed that time when I got to shoot,” Smith said afterward. “Even though I missed it, I felt pretty good about myself.”
Smith plans on attending the Oct. 2 clinic on BlazeSports, the statewide wheelchair sports program offered by the U.S. Disabled Athlete Fund and run locally by Gainesville Parks and Recreation and Hall County Parks and Leisure.
He’s not limiting himself to basketball, either. Tennis is also on Smith’s agenda.
“I figure what the heck,” said Smith. “I’ll give it a shot.”