Bill Walton Won't You Please Play Ball?

Walton's evasive, often surly, behavior off the floor was not helping him much, either. Once, at an autograph-signing session at Meier & Frank Department Store, a big Trail Blazer sponsor, Walton alienated everybody by waving his bandaged little finger and telling the 600 children who had showed up that he could sign no autographs, not even make an X. As usual, his immaturity in a crowd was read as arrogance.

By Thanksgiving, Walton had become so unsettled that he called Gilbert in Los Angeles and told him he couldn't take any more and that he was quitting the game. Sensing disaster, Gilbert flew to Portland and told him he would lose all but a small portion of his 15-year contract and that what he would get wouldn't even cover his income tax. Walton replied that he didn't care, that he would declare bankruptcy and live on the land near Santa Barbara. Gilbert explained that taxes would ruin Walton, that all his possessions would be confiscated. "Bill docs like the social amenities," said Gilbert later. And perhaps at the thought of losing his nearly completed home with the custom skylights, the four-man whirlpool, the 26-foot-high cedar ceiling and the $1,800 restaurant stove complete with six burners and a three-foot griddle, Walton reluctantly changed his mind. "He just decided he didn't want to be in debt to the government for the rest of his life," says Greg Lee, one of the few people who knew of the incident, which Walton has since termed "a rumor."

But the fact that Bill was desperately unhappy in Portland didn't change. Suddenly he decided Southern California was where he wanted to be after all, and in early December he went to Blazer officials and told them he would play ball again if they would trade him to Los Angeles. Naturally they informed him this was impossible. No team likes to trade in the same division, and in Portland's case the repercussions from the fans and press would have been disastrous. But one thing struck some people about Walton's offer: if he was saying he could play elsewhere, then he wasn't, in fact, really hurt.

Rumors of Walton's possible retirement shocked Portland. "Everybody had been so nice to Bill," says Sam Gilbert. "A builder had done his home at no profit, his special shirts were made at cost, and even his mortgage was given to him at a mere 6�%."

Walton's response was that he was cold in Portland. "He kept complaining that his feet were cold, that his whole body was seriously, physically cold," says Gilbert.

Walton flew to Los Angeles to consult Dr. Kerlan and complained to him about the symptoms, saying that it took three days for his feet to warm up. "That was the way he honestly felt," says Dr. Kerlan, though he was unable to find any outward signs of the chill.

To many people Walton's actions indicate selfishness and ingratitude for what he has. A Los Angeles businessman who was once very close to Walton calls him "an egocentric child, a 22-year-old going on 11." Others find it difficult to reconcile Walton's wealth and fame with his supposed concern for the poor and hungry of the world. They try to match his refusal to allow drugs to be used in treating his injuries (because they would contaminate his body) with his occasional use of alcohol.

As yet, if his views are contradictory, it is more that Walton is himself filled with contradictions rather than a conscious effort to delude. "He's done his best to get written off by society," says Greg Lee. "But the irony is, the only way you can do that is by being bland and normal."

Amid all the ruckus remains the fact that Walton sincerely enjoys the game of basketball. "I've played everything—baseball, football, tennis, track—and it just seems to me that basketball is the most complete game because it requires the most skills," he said recently. "It's a game I am built for but even if I were short I think I could make it as a guard."

And his old competitive drive still lurks not far beneath the surface. Shortly before his return, in a one-on-one game against Tom Meschery, a 6'6", 235-pound former NBA star himself, Walton became angered and drove straight over the coach, knocking him down and flattening his nose. As Meschery went for a towel to stop the bleeding, Walton continued to shoot and offered no apology.