The current editor of the page is William McDonald, someone who I have no idea of what he might eat or drink at lunch. I am however forming a hypothesis of his background, based on his bylined obituary of Kenny Sailors, the college and professional basketball player who is indisputably given credit for starting and perfecting the jump shot.
It sounds odd to say that someone was the first one to jump up and throw a ball at an unguarded tangle of twines hanging from a hoop over a garage door, but Sailors is the young man who did it. Sailors passed away at 95 the other day, leaving such an extended family that a great-great-grandchild is listed as a survivor. The only other time I can remember someone leaving a great-great-grandchild behind is when I read of perhaps the last Australian veteran of WW I when they passed away.
Like a lot of us, William McDonald has no Wikipedia entry to tell us his place of birth and when we should send birthday greeting. Editors are not rock stars. (I could use an entry, because my wife recently put a number on my cake that gave me credit for being here a year longer than I have been. She must be in a hurry about something.)
But back to McDonald. I have to say, I perhaps don't see every obituary written in the NYT, but I don't think I miss many, and I've never seen his byline over one. Lately, the paper has started to put more obituaries on the front page, usually below, or straddling the fold. But still, front page is front page, and that's where Kenny Sailors found his heart transplanted to on Monday.
You might huff and puff that a basketball player, who didn't even play for the Knicks, St. Johns, Manhattan, NYU or Fordham, has no business being on the front page. Talk to the editor.
Mr. McDonald's obituary is such a beaut, written with such attention to detail and outright love for the game of basketball that I'll speculate on his non-existent Wikipedia bio sketch.
He's from NYC, in his late 50s, perhaps early 60s, and he went to Catholic high school and a catholic college. He might have even played the game itself at one or both of these educational institutions, and might have been on the court at the Old Garden when NBA Knick games were preceded by a Catholic high school game. I remember this era, because I had a ticket to go to the Garden to see the Knicks play someone on November 9, 1965, the day NYC suffered its first of three blackouts. The game was never played, and I didn't go to whatever makeup admission they might have been offering. The ticket was probably $1.50 then, but still, that was real money then, at least to me. (I save a lot of things, but I do not have that ticket.)
Oftentimes I think about things that might strike others as strange. I think about people who are living in the western part of the country, perhaps California, but more like Oregon, Wyoming, Colorado, Utah, Idaho and Montana, whose grandparents, and more likely their great-grandparents got there with a rifle in a covered wagon.
Kenny Sailors's mother got to Nebraska in a covered wagon, worked a 320-acre farm as a single mom, later moving to Wyoming, where Kenny was a teammate of the broadcaster Curt Gowdy in high school. He played for the University of Wyoming, and was on on their NCAA championship team of 1943, even later beating the NIT winner, St. Johns.
Because of his athletic ability in other sports, Kenny Sailors could leap a yard off the ground, 36 inches. Take out that yardstick from your mother's or wife's sewing things and imagine getting the bottom of your shoes, with your body still attached, equal to the top of that stick. You have to wonder if in the 1940s there was still a standing long jump and a standing high jump in the Olympics, what medals Mr. Sailors might have brought home. Ray Ewry's records might have fallen.
Mr. Sailors was what you might expect of a rugged westerner. He later moved to Alaska and ran a business as a wilderness guide. A latter day photo of him shows such an affable, gentle-looking man that for sure, he wouldn't have left Leonardo DiCaprio buried alive for the bears to get, and for some of us to endure a 2:36 minute movie with great scenery, but little dialog, about his rise from the grave, such as it was.
And who knew there was a 1946 Life magazine photo of Mr. Sailors that likely gave national momentum to basketball players adopting their own jump shots? And who knew there was a Denver Nuggets basketball franchise in 1950?
Mr. McDonald. And now us.
http://www.onofframp.blogspot.com
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