Perfect 20 Years Ago

A bittersweet memory tonite, on the long commute, with the radio playing "Gimme Some Lovin" by the Spencer Davis Group.

By 1985 I'd determined that current music was a complete waste of time, and I'd be better off mining the past. I went through Cream, Led Zeppelin, Traffic, and kept going back, into the early days of the British Invasion - The Yardbirds (I had a bootleg of their last tour with Page running amok) and the Kinks, but mostly the early Winwood. In 1985 I knew pop music had taken a severe wrong turn, and I knew it happened somewhere after the Spencer Davis Group.

On Memorial Day I was cranking the stereo at home, watching the game on TV. Celtics - Lakers, World Championship, Game 1. The pregame hype was all Magic-this, Larry-that, Kareem blah blah blah. And Scott Wedman took over the game. Scott freakin' Wedman!



You have to understand about Scott Wedman. He'd been an all-star once, but he was getting old. Couldn't start for the Celtics even if he'd been in his prime. He was too white, too slow, couldn't take it to the hoop, couldn't play much D...

And the Lakers tried to guard him, they really did. But he just kept coming off picks and shooting, slipping away from his man and shooting, appearing out of thin air and shooting. He didn't miss. Not once. And Steve Winwood was in the background singing, I swear, "so glad you made it, so glad you made it..."

When it was over Wedman had gone 11-for-11, four from three-point land. "Thank God we held him to 11 shots," smirked Pat Riley. The whipping was so bad (148-114), they called it the Memorial Day Massacre. The Lakers, led by Kareem, took an oath to never be embarrassed like that again. They got their act together, shut Wedman down for the rest of the series, and won the Championship.

The next year the Celtics came back and beat the Lakers, deploying Bill Walton, the tactical nuclear reserve center, for 5- and 10- minute stretches. Wedman got his second championship ring, and as near as I can tell, went home to Kansas City.

A few days later I was walking home from work through Harvard Square in a rainstorm, a terrible downpour. No one on the street but me...and Bill Walton, coming toward me. "Way to go Bill!" I didn't expect much back, I'd met sports stars before.

Walton looked back at me - paused in the rain - and gave me a big grin, pumping his fist.

And not long after I was into the Grateful Dead, playing "For the Faithful" over and over on my long commute:

Lost now on the country miles in his Cadillac.
I can tell by the way you smile he's rolling back.
Come wash the nighttime clean,
Come grow this scorched ground green...