TERRY MOSHER
DOLPH SCHAYES
I don’t hate. It just doesn’t seem right. I do dislike, but hate, no – except I hate getting old. And I have gotten old. I’m reminded of that almost every day. Today I was reminded of it when I was informed that Dolph Schayes died at the age of 87.
You see, I was an avid sports fan when I was just a young kid living in the 1940s in the Southern Tier of New York State. We did not have television yet, but it did not stop me from listening on radio to all the great sports events of that time.
I had – or more accurate we had because I roomed in those early years with my brother David, three years older than me, in the same second floor bedroom at our house – a Zenith up-right radio that in that period of time involved a large number of tubes in the back that in the middle of the night lit up the bedroom and gave me a sense of being right there in the middle of boxing matches that were broadcast by the great Don Dunphy and night basketball games that involved my favorite team, St. Bonaventure, which was just 10 miles from the Mosher family home in Portville, N.Y, and Syracuse National basketball games of the fledging NBA.
I might add that I also during those early years of the ‘40s listened during baseball season to the nightly broadcasts of the Cleveland Indians (radio broadcasts were sharper at night and I could pick up the Cleveland station airing their games) and Saturday afternoons were spent listening to Notre Dame football games.
When I wasn’t listening to Bona games, I would pick up radio broadcasts of the Rochester Royals and the Syracuse Nationals. Back in the 1948-49 season there were two divisions containing 12 teams in the NBA, but I only remember Syracuse, Rochester, the New York Knickerbockers, Fort Wayne Pistons, Boston Celtics, Philadelphia Warriors and the Minnesota Lakers.
The famous names in the league that were big for me were George Mikan, Harry Gallatin, Joe Fulks, Arnie Risen and Dolph Schayes. Later would come guys like Larry Costello, Bob Cousy, Bob Pettit and Tom Gola and, of course, Wilt Chamberlain, who I consider the greatest NBA player.
Fulks is credited with some as being the first to use the jump shot, but had an assortment of shots that drove defenders crazy. He averaged a league high 23 points a game in the 1947 season. That may not sound like much by today’s standards, but teams averaged about 70 points a game, about 30 points lower than they do today.
Fulks also set the single-game high of 63 points in 1949 (he averaged a league high 26). What I find amazing and amusing is that Fulks, who often would shoot and make shots from beyond 20 feet, which was not done much back then, is that he took 56 shots that night.
Schayes, the father of Danny Schayes who played 18 years in the NBA, was a 6-7 forward who was perhaps the best two-handed set shooter in the game. He was still shooting and hitting that shot as the league was transitioning to the one-handed jump shot.
When you are a little boy, as I was during the time Schayes and others played, it was easy to get invested in the guys that dominated the games I used to listen to on my Zenith. I don’t think there are many things I have done in my life that compares to being curled up in bed at night with my dog (Peanuts) on cold winter nights with the lights from the Zenith tubes lighting up my small world while guys like Schayes and Flulks and Pettit and Mikan and others did things on the basketball court that soared through the radio air waves to my ears and gave me great pleasure while I imagine them doing what they did each and every night and wished I could do them too.
St. Bona basketball was huge for me back then. As I have written many times before, Tom Stith was one of the best college basketball players I ever saw. His brother Sam was not too shabby either. Then there was Eddie Donovan, who went on to coach the Bonnies and the New York Knicks.
Three other Bona players that I recall fondly were Whitey Martin, Sam Urzetta and Bob Sassone, who a longtime assistant with the Bonnies, who when I was a little kid where nicknamed the “Brown Indians.” Obviously, that name became offensive at some points and now they are simply called Bonnies.
Sometimes I wish I could go back to those days when I had little cares in the world and things seemed simpler. There was no social media like we have now that reports every bad thing that happens in the world from fender benders to ISIS chopping off heads and I didn’t have any worries other than report on time for dinner (or go hungry).
It’s sad for me that Schayes has passed and it’s even sadder for me when I realize he was 87. I still see him in my mind as this incredible young basketball player lighting up my small world on my Zenith. But that’s the way life is, you grow old or you don’t grow at all.
Here’s hoping that you might be able to curl up in a warm bed and imagine that you are one of your heroes like I was with Schayes. Take care.
Be well pal.
Be careful out there.
Have a great day.
You are loved.