Bill Walton's Greatest Triumph

His name is synonymous with winning—two California high school basketball championships, two NCAA championships, and two NBA championships.

He was a three-time NCAA Player of the Year, the No. 1 overall NBA draft pick, a NBA MVP and a Sixth Man of the Year award winner.

He was named one of the Top 50 NBA players of all time, he’s been inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame, and he was a three-time Academic All American at UCLA.

Bill Walton played for some of the best coaches who ever picked up a chalk stick. Through talent, intelligence, team play and hard work he touched the pinnacle, at every level of his sport, like no other.

Yet, his greatest victory came against an opponent who never wore a jersey or laced up a pair of Chuck Taylors.

"I had a severe stuttering problem and I could not form a complete sentence until I was 28”.

Because of his embarrassing inability to communicate, Walton was a shy and reserved young man. Ironically, his very weakness may have driven him to his obsessive dedication to the one thing at which he excelled.

"The game of basketball was my religion; the gym, my church”.

This may have been acceptable behavior for a youngster who grew up in the topsy-turvy ‘60s and ‘70s. It was a time when independence and retreating within oneself were in vogue.

Eventually, a more mature and benevolent attitude took root. 

"It was a convenient way of avoiding my responsibilities of developing my human relations skills”.

In 1979, broadcaster Marty Glickman took Walton aside and in a frank and gentle manner, persuaded the big redhead to apply some practical techniques to his speech. These applications included slowing down the thinking process before speaking, reading out loud, and the insightful advice to help others with similar problems.

Walton accepted the gesture and ran with it. He filtered it through his "Four Laws of Learning" acquired through his teachers and coaches—demonstration, explanation, correction, and repetition.

"That's it. For me, no magic, no medication, no gimmicks, no shortcuts, no tricks. Just a plan, a vision, a dream…and lots of hard work".

To this day, he is involved in outreach to organizations which help other people with speech problems.

After basketball, Walton, like a true champion, took what was once his greatest weakness and made it a point of strength. He carved out a niche, uniquely his own, behind a microphone.

His entrance into the world of sports broadcasting and analysis has not been without critics, however. Many have called him arrogant, bombastic, or even diarrheic. Some think his style is reminiscent of a dam-burst. Others suggest he needs to re-visit Mr. Glickman's first application—think before you speak.

Criticism aside, Walton does give a good perspective on the finer points of basketball. His longevity alone, as a player and in the industry of talk, gives him credibility.

And who can blame a guy who fought so hard, for gloating a bit and parading his trophy around for all to see (and hear)?