Doug: Last week, upon news of the passing of movie star and larger-than-life personality Michael Clarke Duncan, I ran a quick post stating my family's relationship to the man. I'd like to ask your indulgence in following that up with a few stories and photos.Doug: First, what follows is a column from our local newspaper, written by Tim Yonke, one of the assistant editors who covered our community college's basketball team when Duncan was a player:
As
a fledgling sports writer in the late 1970s my primary beat was
covering the Kankakee Community College men’s basketball team. Among the
players I covered was Michael Duncan, who would later become acclaimed
actor Michael Clarke Duncan.
Duncan died Monday after nearly two months of treatment following a heart attack. He was just 54 years old.
If
you were lucky to know “Dunk” — as he was known by his teammates back
then — you likely would have never forgotten him. His 6-foot-5,
225-pound body and imposing muscles were impressive, but it was his huge
smile, deep laugh and indomitable spirit that left a mark on your
heart.
While
some may think Duncan was a star player during his two years in
Kankakee, that wasn’t exactly the case. He sat at the end of the bench
his entire freshman season. I remember Coach Denny Lehnus constantly
screaming at him for mistakes on the court during practice. I wasn’t
sure he’d even be back for a second season.
However,
Duncan took Lehnus’ stern words for what they were — tough love. He
worked hard over the summer and improved so much that he became the
starting center on a squad that began the season 17-0 and became the No.
1-ranked junior college team in the country. You could tell back then
how much success meant to him.
Later
that year the Cavaliers lost the state championship game in overtime.
Nearly 45 minutes after the game as his teammates came out of the locker
room, there was Duncan still dressed in his uniform sitting in front of
his locker sobbing.
Duncan
moved on to St. Joseph’s College in Rensselaer, Ind., to play the next
year. I went along with the KCC coaching staff to see Dunk play one
winter night. It was a game that he played little and not very well. We
waited afterward to speak to him, and, as usual, he was the last to
leave the locker room. He came out to hug everyone with tears in his
eyes, feeling he had disappointed his friends who had come to see him
play.
That’s why everyone who knew him, loved him. He cared. And, not just for himself, but for everyone around him.
Even
after his hard work had gotten him an award-winning career as an actor,
Duncan still kept in touch with his Kankakee friends.
Mike
Golowski, the point guard on that KCC team, routinely exchanged phone
calls and texts with his friend and even visited him in Los Angeles a
few years ago. Their conversations were always filled with laughter.
KCC
teammates like Pat Halloran, Greg Montgomery, Kevin Jones and Bob
Trewartha, to name a few, knew Michael not just as a fun-loving
teammate, but as someone they could depend on. I’m sure they all took
pride in the success Duncan had achieved and I guarantee they felt it
couldn’t have happened to a better person.
Duncan
had a wonderful relationship with former KCC administrator and game
announcer Dick Frey. On away trips, the pair would have eating contests
when the team stopped for meals. Their battles were both fun and
legendary.
The
news of Duncan’s death was certainly upsetting to former KCC assistant
coaches David Holstein, Dennis Clark and Jeff Bennett, who were
first-hand witnesses to Michael’s drive to success. Bring Duncan’s name
up in a conversation and watch their faces light up with a smile.
Duncan
would always keep in touch with Lehnus, whom he looked at as a father
figure. And, why not? Michael was raised by a single mother in the
housing projects on Chicago’s tough south side.
While
a number of his players looked at Lehnus that way, Duncan was always
special. It was like he was part of Lehnus’ family. His wife, Marlew,
and daughters Kelli, Kim and Kerri, adored Duncan
and reveled in his achievements after KCC. Their memories of Michael
are always of a hulk of a man who had a smile that could light up a
room.
For
myself, I also relished in Duncan’s accomplishments, often telling my
wife and children about the big guy on the television or movie screen,
and how I got to write about him when he was playing basketball at KCC.
While
Dunk may be gone, we will get to see him again in DVDs and on
television reruns. There’s no doubt that we’ll be smiling when we do.
Doug: I'll also relate a couple of stories that are told about Duncan. On one very cold, snowy January evening in 1980 as the team was leaving practice, my father-in-law walked out of the gym with Duncan. Coach asked him if he needed a ride. Duncan refused the offer twice. Persistent, Coach asked again and Duncan relented. So the obvious question was "Where am I taking you?" These were back in the days when the program was just growing and players largely had to find their own housing. Duncan had found a family that lived in one of the poorest communities in the state (maybe in the entire Midwest), and it was 17 miles away from town. Duncan had been hitch-hiking that route twice daily so he could get to class and play ball. Unbelievable.
Doug: I mentioned last week that my son, then a 9-year old, had the opportunity to meet Duncan while traveling with my father-in-law's team. You can see photos of the encounter below. On that trip the team had arranged through mutual friendships to practice at Pauley Pavilion on the campus of UCLA. Additionally, legendary UCLA coach John Wooden was to address the team following practice. As things were underway, Duncan arrived and watched the second half of practice. Coach Wooden addressed the young men, and then in the moments of transition between Wooden's talk and the locker room, Coach Wooden called to my father-in-law, "Coach, is that Michael Clarke Duncan?" Affirmed, the old Coach asked, "Do you think he would want to have his picture taken with me?" Can you believe that? The most successful college basketball coach in American history was worried that someone might not want to get a picture with him. Priceless.
Doug: I'll also relate a couple of stories that are told about Duncan. On one very cold, snowy January evening in 1980 as the team was leaving practice, my father-in-law walked out of the gym with Duncan. Coach asked him if he needed a ride. Duncan refused the offer twice. Persistent, Coach asked again and Duncan relented. So the obvious question was "Where am I taking you?" These were back in the days when the program was just growing and players largely had to find their own housing. Duncan had found a family that lived in one of the poorest communities in the state (maybe in the entire Midwest), and it was 17 miles away from town. Duncan had been hitch-hiking that route twice daily so he could get to class and play ball. Unbelievable.
Doug: I mentioned last week that my son, then a 9-year old, had the opportunity to meet Duncan while traveling with my father-in-law's team. You can see photos of the encounter below. On that trip the team had arranged through mutual friendships to practice at Pauley Pavilion on the campus of UCLA. Additionally, legendary UCLA coach John Wooden was to address the team following practice. As things were underway, Duncan arrived and watched the second half of practice. Coach Wooden addressed the young men, and then in the moments of transition between Wooden's talk and the locker room, Coach Wooden called to my father-in-law, "Coach, is that Michael Clarke Duncan?" Affirmed, the old Coach asked, "Do you think he would want to have his picture taken with me?" Can you believe that? The most successful college basketball coach in American history was worried that someone might not want to get a picture with him. Priceless.
Doug: Thanks for letting me share these thoughts this afternoon.
