Happy Father’s Day, Dr. Smith!
Today’s your day! Actually, it has been your day for 114 years. I can’t
imagine standing in your patent leather boots.
One-hundred and forty years is a d*mn long time to be a dad – the longest
of anyone I know – and you have to be proud of all your children’s
accomplishments.
When Howie Dallmar clinched the first NBA title in 1947. When USF center
Bill Russell wouldn’t lose in 1956. When Wilt Chamberlain dropped a Benjamin
in 1962. When Don Haskins wins in the NCCA tournament with an all-black
starting five in 1966. When UCLA center Lew Alcindor earned his third
straight Final Four Most Outstanding Player award in 1969. When Willis Reed
hobbled out on a bandaged leg just before the 1970 Finals Game 7 tip-off.
When Magic Johnson battled Larry Bird for the first time in the 1979 NCAA
final. When UNC freshman Michael Jordan drained Georgetown for the national
championship in 1982. When Christian Laettner wrote history in 1992.
When George Mikan died in 2005.
It’s been a long run of glorious moments but an even longer period of
gradual loss of recognition.
See, what you’ve created is a forest – a dense wood of ideas and
possibilities. A mini habitat of life. Little do people know the forest
began from the small tree – a single foray into a world of potential. Dr.
Smith, you’re the real Johnny Applesead they fable about.
So to recognize you and your fatherdome’s 114th year, I thought it
fitting to open up the book of James, written by your very first disciples.
To let today’s followers know, once again, who their daddy really is…
James
The beginning
1 In the beginning, when Dr. James A. Naismith created the
game of basketball, the earth was a formless wasteland, and darkness covered
the abyss, while a mighty wind swept over the waters.
Then Naismith said, "Let there be a ball." And so it happened: He made a
new ball with stitched panels of leather, a rubber bladder and a cloth
lining. The evening came, and morning followed—the first day.
Then Naismith said, "Let there be two boxes fastened to the balcony
railing at opposite sides of the gymnasium, where they would serve as
goals." And so it happened: The school janitor nailed two half-bushel peach
baskets to the wall. Evening came, and morning followed—the second day.
Then Naismith said, "Let a rectangle of boundaries be created, so a
playing field may appear." And so it happened: He drew a perimeter of lines
around the gymnasium. Evening came, and morning followed—the third day.
Then Naismith said, "Let there be a set of rules to govern this
non-violent game." And so it happened: He developed a set of 13 rules.
Naismith called the game "Basket Ball." Evening came, and morning
followed—the fourth day.
Then Naismith said, "Let there be two nine-player teams to play this
sport." And so it happened: He gathered his class of 18 young men and began
the first Basket Ball match. Naismith saw how good it was and published his
rules. Evening came, and morning followed—the fifth day.
Then Naismith said, "Let the earth bring forth the First School and let
the true spirit of the game move them and, through them, to the following
generations." And so it happened: He assembled a group of followers who
taught much to those willing to listen. Naismith looked at everything he had
made, and he found it very good. Evening came, and morning followed—the
sixth day.
Happy Father’s Day, Dr. Smith!
