NBA fans are deeply embroiled in the thrilling Houston-LA and Orlando-Boston series.  But today is an off day, and unfortunately there is some news to report.  One of the NBA’s good guys left us.

Wayman Tisdale.  Dead at 44.  Cancer.

Jazz aficionados might not love Tisdale’s post-NBA career; his smooth jazz records were a commercial success.  Indeed, Tisdale even had some billboard hits but he wasn’t  exactly critically acclaimed.  The fact is Tisdale’s music introduced him and his big smile to far more ears than his nifty left handed hook ever reached.

He was a success in his post basketball years.  Tisdale was a devoutly religious man.  He truly talked the talk and walked the walk in his humanitarian efforts.

That’s part of the reason it hurts so much to see him leave.

The NBA is no stranger to the disaster story (Bobby Phills, Malik Sealey, Bill Ray Bates) so it’s disheartening to see another chip fall, and in this case a man who played the game with a huge heart and a bigger smile.   He packed so much into his post-NBA days too.  It’s hard to wonder what good he could’ve done with another 20 years, but cancer didn’t allow us that chance.

I remember Tisdale’s smile from my youth, from my first NBA game.  I was probably seven or eight.  Growing up in Medford Oregon I was obviously a Blazers fan.  Those were the days of the Rick Adelman-Drexler-Porter Blazers, so tickets were hard to come by.  Kings tickets were a different story.

So a caravan of elementary school soccer kids and their fathers set out on I-5 south and ended up at Arco Arena.  The nosebleeds never felt so sweet.

Those Kings weren’t exactly going to knock your socks off.  Olden Polynice, Mitch Richmond and Wayman Tisdale don’t exactly strike fear in the hearts of opponents.  That’s not a list of all-time greats.  But even back then I remember Tisdale’s smile, and his joy of the game.  I even remember his baby left hook.  I don’t remember the outcome of the game, but I’ll never forget the experience.  I was already on the road to being an NBA lifer, but a junkie was born in the nosebleed seats that day.

Wayman was a small part of that, and I always remembered his distinct name and followed his career.  His cancer diagnosis a couple years ago came as a shock.  The NBA will miss their soft-playing sax player and soft-spoken man.  Here’s hoping that this generation of NBA players take a page from the Wayman Tisdale playbook.  Don’t give up on life once that jumper desert you, or the rim seems too high to touch.  Find another way to contribute.

That’s what Tisdale did.  So long Wayman.