Audio: Lamond Murray on Recruiting, Lockout and Overseas Hoops

Our very own ‎Kevin Owens talks with former NBA star and current NCSA staffer Lamond Murray about college recruiting, the lockout, and his experiences with overseas basketball.

Click here to listen to the interview.

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HHR's Kevin Owens Sizes Up Chocolate Thunder

Last week, we posted an interview with Mescallade and Larry Johnson. This week, Kevin Owen talks with Chocolate Thunder, Darryl Dawkins who, like Johnson, was teamed up with Captain Morgan to host one of their Memorial Day Long Island Ice Tea parties.

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Not many people make my hands look small. I am nearly 7 feet tall and am asked several times throughout the day to compare my hands to a child, a girl, or an emasculate man. Yet as Darryl Dawkins’ hand formed a cocoon around mine, I suddenly didn’t feel so big.

I had the pleasure of meeting Darryl on Thursday evening as he teamed up with Captain Morgan to host a party in Philadelphia. The party was a kick off to the summer with similar events taking place in New York City and Miami. Guests were treated to Captain Morgan’s Long Island Iced Tea, along with other Captain beverages.

As part of the One Million Poses campaign, everyone in Philadelphia who uploads a picture of themselves doing the Captain’s pose to the Captain Morgan Facebook page, the Captain will donate $1 to the Urban Affairs Coalition of Philadelphia. Some guests indulged heavily in support of Darryl and the Captain, while others tastefully enjoyed the evening.

One of the inebriated came over while Darryl and I were engaged in a conversation about ghosts, (We both believe) and asked us to play one on one. He spent the remainder of the evening shouting “CHOCOLATE THUNDER!” Interesting guy…Darryl that is, not the intoxicated individual.

Earlier in the day I spoke with Dawkins about a wide range of topics including the future of the Sixers organization, the upcoming draft, Craig Sager’s outfits, and his philosophies on coaching.

Image: SI Vault

As we spoke he sounded less and less like the eccentric kid who arrived in the NBA straight out of Maynard High School in Orlando, Florida. He opened up about being drafted a year after the ABA snatched up Moses Malone in similar fashion. “Moses and I didn’t know we could do it. Everyone was expecting me to be the next Wilt Chamberlain, but there was only one Wilt.”

Dawkins’ decision to go pro stemmed from his aggressive style of play. “I wanted to go pro. As reckless and dangerous as I played, I could have been injured in college.” In a time when four years of college basketball were the standard, Dawkins became a pioneer for future generations of superstars.

Of course as a young player coming straight out of high school, Dawkins drove Sixers coaches Gene Shue and Billy Cunningham crazy. Which makes it all the more ironic that Dawkins himself is now the coach of Lehigh Carbon Community College.

“Guys will challenge you”, Dawkins said of his players. Challenging coaches was something Dawkins excelled at during his 14 year NBA career. Former Nets coach Dave Wohl, who coached Dawkins during his time in New Jersey, was once quoted as saying, “Many of us will judge him solely on what he could have been. Too many will be blinded by the flashes of brilliance that never materialized into consistent greatness. There were times when he teased us with a hint of how he could dominate a game. And we went home in awe and yet sad because we knew of no spell to make it happen more frequently. But few players could make us feel that way even once."

Now Dawkins preaches the phrase, “Do as I say, not what I did,” a life lesson for his new students of the game.

Dawkins, who still follows the Sixers, has a good role model in former teammate and now 76er head coach Doug Collins. “Doug is a good man. Let him put the pieces in place. He knows basketball.” Dawkins has faith in Collins’ ability to turn the Sixers into contenders once again.

With the NBA draft just under a month away Darryl and I discussed what the Sixers organization may do at 16. We both agreed that they need size, but that there may be a need to take the best player available. Whether they do this via trade or wait till 16, Dawkins emphasized the need to leave it in Collins’ hands. “Back off coach a little bit, let him figure it out.”

Darryl still has an appreciation and devotion to every team he called home during his NBA career and holds a special place in his heart for the Sixers. After all it was here in Philadelphia that he grew from a young kid, challenging coaches, and destroying backboards into the dedicated family man and coach he is now.

As I spoke to Darryl I could see how proud he was of his family. He described his children in detail using his bright blue suit clad body as a gauge of their height. We discussed who he felt was a better dresser, he or Craig Sager. Dawkins told me it was close and that, “It is all about imagination.”

As I downed the last of my Captain Morgan Long Island Iced Tea and again shook Darryl’s enormous hand, I walked into the elevator and whispered to my wife, “What an interesting guy.” My wife then responded, “He is so down to earth.” I began to reflect on that statement. He really was down to earth…A far cry from the man who used to spend his off seasons on planet Lovetron.

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Kevin Owens is a seven year veteran of overseas professional basketball. He currently writes for SB Nation Philadelphia, SLAM Online, Hugging Harold Reynolds and his own blog Waiting For Godunk, which details his career as a standby athlete. Follow him on Twitter @Waiting4Godunk.

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Mescalade & KO Try Their Hand at Hollywood with Reebok RealFlex

Reebok brought out some big guns recently in Manhattan to tout the release of their brand new RealFlex Shoe and I’m not referring to myself and Kevin Owens, however we were there too. Celebrities Josh Duhamel and Ali Larter were on hand to promote the launch of the shoe with a stunt demo. Two actors that pride themselves on taking on stunts when allowed, they presided over a demonstration that had some trained stunt professionals fall off balconies, leap over large boulders, slide by taxi cabs and crash through faux windows.

While I can’t promise you the shoes will help you do all the above, they will bring a new take to your workout routine. The third in a series of three releases by Reebok over the last couple of years the shoes seem to get you as close to the barefoot running trend that has taken off while also still keeping you in a legitimate pair of sneakers. The “flex” part of the name in these kicks is no joke as you can literally bend them in half. Super lightweight they come equipped with 76 different sensors on the bottom of the sole, something artfully played on in the national commercial now airing.

Without weighing you down in shoe science or a trip to podiatry school the seeming goal of the shoe is to return running to the balls of your feet rather than putting stress on your heels. Way back in the day, think pre Plymouth Rock, we were likely meant to run barefoot. Most people when shoeless tend to go off the balls of their feet, something not seen when wearing well padded running shoes. Since we now live in a world full of very hard surfaces these shoes aim to find a happy medium of giving you cushion for all conditions while also encouraging your running style to revert back to the days of yore.

I took them out for a spin on the stunt track and they worked well in clearing fake boulders and tackling a mini tramp. A three mile run the next day found the shoes definitely bring you closer to the road while also taking some pressure of your heels. Like any shoe a few more runs will bare out the true results.

As for the event itself, it was a spectacle of media folks decked out in the new shoes trying their hand at activities we all haven’t attempted in years including the old ‘let me see if I can jump over that downed tree’. Those on hand were able to witness Kevin Owens aka WaitingForGodunk vault off the mini-trampoline and through a fictional window. You don't find too many 6'10" stunt men these days and with Kevin recently announcing his retirement there could be another career in the works. Or should I ever realize the dream of owning my own SlamBall franchise, I already know my first pick.

On the sports side of things post event we were able to catch up with Duhamel, who despite roots in pro-sports barren North Dakota is quite the fan. He’s a Lakers guy these days, who pulls for Phil Jackson (a fellow ND native) and made a strong move into acting when like many of us (Not Kevin), reality struck that he would not be a pro athlete. He chimed in on a wide variety of topics.


Favorite player growing up…

George Gervin, I used to have a George Gervin poster on my wall

Seeing games in person…

I remember seeing Iverson play, he is one of my all time favorite. He is so quick, no wasted movements. Same with Steve Nash, because they are a little bit shorter, every move, they almost see it before it happens.

Favorite player today…

I love Kobe, he’s just an assassin out there, he’s an alpha alpha male.

Favorite seats at a basketball game…

I like to sit up in the stands a little bit, I don’t like to be right down on the floor. You are in a fishbowl.

Hopes for this year’s playoffs…

I’d like to see the Heat get beat, I didn’t like all the shit talking last year. The pep rally in Miami, that was too much.

On Phil Jackson leaving…rumors he’d go to New York

It seems like it (he’s leaving), you never know. I’d hate to see him leave. I’d like to see New York come back, and be strong again, they are getting there.

On playing an athlete in a movie or TV show…

That’s always been one of my dreams, before I get too old. (Told he could play Phil Jackson) I could maybe coach, but yeah there’s always been a real desire to play either a football player or baseball player or even basketball. I don’t know how believable I’d be as a competitive basketball player.

On the Reebok RealFlex sneakers…

These are like the barefoot shoes but only better. In a realistic world you wouldn’t be able to run around in barefeet, in nature you can but I think this is the answer to that.

On the fun of doing stunt demonstrations…

You are a little exposed, normally I like to make people think I’m really good at these so now they are probably getting an idea that I’m not.

How improve training benefited his acting…

Just to listen, you need somebody opposite of you listening and somebody to listen to. If not you are just in a scene by yourself and the scene is probably gonna suck.

On having to have Reebok Pumps growing up…

You weren’t going to be any good at basketball if you don’t have a couple of pumps in there.

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Waiting for Godunk: Kevin at IMG Training Academy this Week

HHR contributor Kevin Owens will travel down to the IMG Training Academy in Bradenton, Florida for SLAM where he will be getting a first hand look at a new training system collaborated on by both IMG and Under Armour entitled "Combine360." While there he will be talking to several notable professional trainers, former athletes and nutritionists. Follow his daily journal at SLAM Online as he is put through different stages of the workout to determine how strong his gag reflex truly is.

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Waiting for Godunk: More on the D-League

Kevin Owens has been playing professional basketball for the past six years and decided to start a blog documenting his daily life. He started contributing some of those stories here at HHR, and now is being featured at SLAM Online.

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I received a lot of positive feedback about my last D-League article that I wrote for SLAM online, so I figured I would channel my inner Rick Reilly and follow up with a few things, I feel, that the D-League represented to me.

The D-League is long bus rides and connecting flights. It’s six consecutive games against the same team. The D-League is Thanksgiving Dinner at your head coach’s home or Christmas Dinner at a gas station in North Carolina.

The D-League is practice after an elementary school gym class and before a P.T.A. meeting. It’s driving a half hour to practice because your “usual” gym is being used for an 8th grade dance. It’s a membership to the local YMCA and waiting till the 43 year old periodontist finishes with the 40 pound weights so you can finish your set.

The D-League is staying for an hour and a half to sign autographs after our only sold out game of the season, “Sponge Bob Square Pants” night. It’s die hard loyal fans in empty arenas. It’s a game at 8pm one day and noon the next.

The D-League is country music and rodeos. It’s cold arenas and early morning shoot arounds. It’s generic mascots and pregnant cheerleaders. The D-League is Buffalo Wild Wings, Piggly Wiggly and Kroger. It’s being asked to dinner by a group of fans, and graciously accepting.

The D-League is 2am trips to Waffle House and waitresses named Joan. It’s finding constructive uses for your down time. It’s Wednesday matinees and marathon Playstation sessions. It’s par 3 golf courses and loitering at the mall.

The D-League is culturally different roommates and vicious dogs. It’s 500 card rummy and Dairy Queen. It’s toilet blue cell phones and trash bags on the bus.

The D-League is trying to get to the next level. It’s pushing yourself day in and day out. It’s playing over hyped college players and realizing you are better than them.

The D-League is not cars with suicide doors or 32 room mansions. It’s not expensive watches or 80 gallon fish tanks. It’s not fast cars and faster women…It’s working hard enough to get all these things.

The D-League is playing through pain and floor burns. It’s diving into the stands for a loose ball and bags of ice. The D-League is attending “optional shoot arounds” and staying late after practice. It’s finding something you do well, and perfecting it. It’s hustle, hard work and dedication.

The D-League is not the NBA, it’s everything the NBA should be.

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Waiting for Godunk: The D-League is Perfect

The Estonian national treasure is back stateside. Check out Kevin's latest over at SLAMOnline: "The D-League is Perfect: ‘Development’ isn’t so bad at all."

Article here.

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Waiting for Godunk: Thank you, Estonia!

This week at SLAM, Kevin says goodbye to Estonia as he's headed back to the States after finishing up the season overseas.

Waiting for Godunk: Thank you, Estonia! - Kevin’s official end to a new beginning.

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Waiting for Godunk: Hype Music

This week at SLAM, Kevin writes about the correlations between music and athletics.

Waiting for Godunk: Hype Music - What music gets hoopers ‘game ready’?

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Waiting For Godunk: Shooting Photos not the Rock

Check out Kevin's latest from Estonia over at SLAMOnline: "Wearing sandals in deep snow has never been so fun."

Article here.

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Waiting for Godunk: Kevin gets settled in Estonia

Kevin Owens has been playing professional basketball for the past six years and decided to start a blog documenting my daily life. He started contributing some of those stories once a week here at HHR, and now is being featured at SLAM Online.

This week's SLAM post: Life is a Highway

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Waiting for Godunk: Dunking is a Mind Game And… it’s off to Estonia!

Kevin Owens has been playing professional basketball for the past six years and decided to start a blog documenting my daily life. He started contributing some of those stories once a week here at HHR, and now is being featured at SLAM Online.

This week's SLAM post: Dunking is a Mind Game and...It’s off to Estonia!

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Waiting for Godunk: Language Barrier

Kevin Owens has been playing professional basketball for the past six years and decided to start a blog documenting my daily life. He started contributing some of those stories once a week here at HHR, and now is being featured at SLAM Online.

This week's SLAM post: Language Barrier: Overseas basketball and military tours of duty have their similarities.

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Waiting For Godunk: SLAMOnline

Congrats to HHR blogger Kevin Owens who is now writing at SLAM Online.

Keep up with him and his quest to land a contract.

This week: Still Waiting.

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Waiting For Godunk: The Tall Guy Rules & Talkin' Turkey

My name is Kevin Owens and I have been playing professional basketball for the past six years. I decided to start a blog documenting my daily life. I have a degree in journalism and haven't written anything since college, so I figured why not. I don't particularly think I am that interesting, however when telling people about the traveling circus that is my life, they seem very entertained. I'll be contributing some of those stories once a week here at HHR. You can also now catch me on Twitter @Waiting4Godunk. Hope you enjoy!

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I have some interesting news this week…

But first, yesterday, my wife and I took a trip to New York City. It was an enjoyable experience. While my wife had a meeting, I went into the only place in The Big Apple that I am familiar with; The Heartland Brewery. This has become my go-to spot in the city, considering my past three visits all included a stop here. They brew an amazing selection of beers, as well as serve a fine selection of food.

All in all it was a great trip. I watched an exciting Knicks-Pistons game, and I only hit my head on the subway once. Now I am used to hitting my head on a daily basis. The world is not meant for people of my stature, but when I hit my head in a crowded place I get fairly annoyed. The reason for my annoyance is because there is no cool way to hit your head. Here are my rules on head hitting…

1. The first thing you do is lie. “What?...my head?...No that was my foot hitting the door.” (Unfortunately everyone in the entire train saw me grimace and grab my dome immediately after, so that won’t work.)
2. Next you try the shocked look, like the inanimate object that has been in the same spot for years, suddenly threw itself at my unsuspecting head. (“I wonder when they installed this handle jutting out of the ceiling. Must have been shortly after the concept of engineering was discovered.”)
3. After that, survey the scene. (Everyone on the train was looking in my direction. A few even grimacing in pain like they were the ones who nearly lost consciousness.)
4. My final rule is acceptance. When you can no longer hide the fact that you are a walking time bomb, it is better to just grin and bear it. In baseball, when you get hit with a pitch, it is guy law not to rub it. Same goes for head hitting, it is better to gain equilibrium, take your seat, and quietly whisper to your wife that you may have a concussion.

Ok Ok…I know. I get it. Onto the news already! Nobody cares about your tall guy handbook. Point taken.

So, Tuesday I received a text from my agent telling me that a team in Turkey was interested. He told me to check my email. When I opened my hotmail account, I saw a forwarded message from a representative of the team with a provisional offer. After quickly Googling what provisional meant, I perused the offer some more. The money looked good, so I decided to accept.

I called my agent and told him to sign me up. He asked me when I would be able to leave. On the offer, I noticed they wanted me there ASAP. So I told him I could be ready the following day. He said he would pass along the information and we would know more in a few hours. We exchanged pleasantries and I started the process of packing everything I would need for the next three months.

First thing I usually do is make a list. This entails all the people I have to talk to, all the items I must buy and all the things I must pack before I leave. I then called my wife, telling her that she no longer has to watch sports every night since I will be in Turkey. Then I got to work making sure I took care of everything on my checklist.

After accomplishing some of the things on my list, I went to the gym to workout and shoot. It was during this time, nearly five hours since I had contact with my agent, that I began wondering what the deal was. After my workout I taught two basketball lessons and headed home. At that point I figured it was time to figure out what the H-E double hockey sticks was going on.

I suddenly had a Déjà vu moment. See, in early October, I had a very similar situation occur. I was sent an offer from a team in Sweden that progressed in a similar way. I received the offer early in the morning and by the following evening, the deal was off. Hopefully when I wake up in the morning I will have a travel itinerary waiting for me in my inbox.

This is the life of a professional basketball player. When a deal comes along you say goodbye to your house and your family to travel to a country you have never been to before. It’s kind of like being a spy without the nice suit and fancy gadgets.

So now again I am waiting. This time waiting for an offer that hopefully won’t get retracted.

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Waiting for Godunk: Bigger, Stronger, Faster

I was driving home listening to my Philadelphia sports radio station 610 WIP, as I do religiously everyday, and I heard the reports that Mark McGwire admitted to taking steroids. The first thought that went through my mind was “No Sh*t.” I am an enormous baseball fan and when I see guys put up over seventy home runs I can’t help questioning their workout routines. The entire steroid issue is one that has annoyed me from the start. Coming from a guy who has worked so hard to fight genetics and become strong enough to compete on a professional level, I am truly bothered by it.

Steroids and baseball have been synonymous throughout my playing career, but I am sure that it might be fairly common in my sport as well. I have played against a few guys that I definitely questioned how they became so strong, fast, and athletic so quickly. In a game where athleticism seems to be favored more than intelligence (I’m the latter.), a guy who is suddenly blessed with these traits might stand to make a lot of money.

For me, steroids never really crossed my mind. Mainly because I am seven feet and don’t know if my heart could take it. I would much rather go through life skinny with working genitalia, than be huge and dead. Although, looking back on my career now, I sometimes wonder if I had taken it when I was in the D-League…and not died, could I have made it to the NBA? If I was bigger and stronger than Reggie Evans, could I have made him my bitch as opposed to the other way around? Regardless, I am happy with doing it the old fashioned way.

I would be lying if I said I never had any help bulking up. I have been trying different supplements for a few years, figuring out the right fit. (Don’t worry, I am always reading labels looking for banned substances considering I go to the same Vitamin Shoppe that got JC Romero suspended for fifty games.) My first experience with supplements came in high school. I came home from school and saw my brother drinking a chocolate protein shake. He explained to me how the protein makes you stronger. That and the fact that it looked like a milkshake sold me. Unfortunately back then, my brother was a little possessive about his things, so I was told I could not try it. That night I crept downstairs to taste it for myself.

Now during this time my brother was significantly taller than me. He grew steadily throughout his childhood, while I developed in a more choppy way. We recently watched a home movie of us growing up and had it not been for my brother’s girly prepubescent voice, I would have assumed he was my dad. Anyway, the reason I mention this is because my brother used to hide things from me on top of the cabinets. So when I reached up to grab the protein I ended up knocking over the entire tub. Only when I flipped on the kitchen light did I see the extent of the mess I had just made.

Protein dust was scattered all over the floor and counters. Knowing that this would surely lead to an ass-kicking I began sweeping up the evidence. When I took a sample out for me to taste I noticed over half the container was empty. I decided to do what any other frightened little brother would do. I swept the floor protein back into the canister. With the evidence of my crime cleaned up, I was all set to try my first ever protein shake. It was not what I was expecting. It tasted like what I imagine paper would taste like in its liquid form. I quickly spit it out, dumped the rest and went back to bed not as strong as I had hoped for.

In college I finally decided it was time to put on weight. I’m not sure if it had to do with my weakness on the court, or the bird chest I was showing off to anyone who wandered in the gym during a pick up shirts versus skins game. Regardless I went to GNC to figure out a way to find some of these muscles I heard so much about.

I started off with some creatine. I would have to “load it” into my system with a cramp inducing four daily doses. I wish someone told me that protein builds muscle back then, might have sped up the process. I kept at this routine till I started working out with a former pro basketball player. He told me about a new protein that tasted great and worked well called Muscle Milk. I started taking that as well as some whey protein and the muscles started growing.

The biggest problem I have during the season is weight loss. Most athletes can go through a season and only lose a few pounds. I on the other hand lose drastic amounts of weight. Even when I am eating right I still walk away at the end of the season at least 25 pounds lighter. It wasn’t till I got to New Zealand and met my trainer Gavin, that I found the way to keep weight on. Gavin was a former British military man, who now is a physical therapist, but in my opinion should be a strength coach. I learned so much from him about keeping muscle on. I also participated in my first “300 Workout” with Gavin and Nick Horvath. The 300 Workout is a workout made famous by the men who trained the actors in the movie 300.

I am now hoping to play again in the New Zealand NBL in hopes of reuniting with Gavin and Nick and finding some new insane workout routines. Hopefully between my agent and I calling around New Zealand we can make it happen. It was by far the most beautiful place I have ever had the pleasure of visiting.

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Waiting For Godunk: The Perth Screwjob & My Nationally Televised Hissy Fit

My name is Kevin Owens and I have been playing professional basketball for the past six years. I decided to start a blog documenting my daily life. I have a degree in journalism and haven't written anything since college, so I figured why not. I don't particularly think I am that interesting, however when telling people about the traveling circus that is my life, they seem very entertained. I'll be contributing some of those stories once a week here at HHR. You can also now catch me on Twitter @Waiting4Godunk. Hope you enjoy!

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I was watching wrestling Monday night, a typical night for any twenty-nine year old, and I saw Bret “The Hitman” Hart make his long anticipated return to the WWE. Now I was a huge wrestling fan back in the day, so anytime an old timer comes back into the ring I am fairly excited. I spent the remainder of the evening online looking up YouTube clips of the “Montreal Screwjob”. During this time I was reminded of the biggest screwjob I have ever been a part of.

I was playing in Australia at the time for the Cairns Taipans. We had advanced to the quarterfinal where we would visit the Perth Wildcats. A few days before we won our first playoff game in which I played extremely well in. We came into Perth as underdogs. Now I have no proof besides the tape of the game, however I firmly believe someone did not want us to win.

I have never seen a more poorly officiated game. The entire game I was being roughly guarded by an assortment of Perth players, to the point when after the game I didn’t know whether to take a shower, or a “morning after pill.” Despite the physical play that was allowed on me, I was called for fouls they wouldn’t enforce in a 3rd grade girls game. I played a total of nine minutes that game and fouled out.

Now I am not an idiot. I know how to play this game; I’ve been doing it my entire life. In an enormous match like this I am going to use my head and not commit dumb fouls. But something that day told me no matter what I did I would be watching the game from the sidelines.

I, like Brett Hart, have an animosity that I hold deep in my soul for those referees that day. Every game you play as a professional basketball player will influence future jobs. This was not just about the team that night, especially since we ended up winning. This was about messing with my life. If I played a dominate game in Perth, which I am more than capable of doing, I could still be in Australia playing in a league that I loved. Who knows what could have happened if the “Perth Screwjob” never took place.

I wish that I could say that was the end of the story and wrap up my article this week with a well worded summary; however the most embarrassing part has yet to be told.

I would be referring to, as my friends like to call it, the “towel incident”. After "apparently"committing my final foul, I found my mind in a state of great rage. As I walked towards the bench I was tossed a towel to wipe off the nine minutes of sweat I had accumulated. Needing an outlet for my anger I took the towel, bit down on it and tore it asunder.

This would have been a lot less embarrassing had no one noticed. Unfortunately the camera that had followed my journey to the bench stayed with me during my little temper tantrum. And that camera was transmitting a signal to the entire country of Australia.

Back in Cairns the entire town had gathered at the famous Rooftop Casino to watch the live broadcast on the jumbo screen. My wife Sara and my teammate Scott’s wife, Erica went to every game together so naturally they made their way to the casino to watch. When the infamous towel incident occurred my wife was mortified. Not just because I had fouled out, but because everyone watching me rip the towel apart now slowly turned towards her. According to my wife she slunk down into her seat and ordered another drink.

I had no idea this incident was televised nationally until I picked up the phone and called my wife after the game. I believe her first words were, "Should I make a dentist appointment?” She then described to me how the entire country had seen my hissy fit. Embarrassing, to say the least.

The news of this incident made its way to America before I could even call home. My one friend found highlights of the game on some obscure Australian website. He passed it along to a few more friends who witnessed my towel homicide first hand. The next day I received an email telling me to search my name on Wikipedia.

When I did I saw that not only had a made up version of the towel incident made it onto the page, but several other ridiculously embellished stories from my past. This page alludes to a ridiculous prank my “friends” played on me when we went to see the Phillies during spring training that year, which I will publish in a future blog.


Long story short…I know too late…If you ever get the chance to play in front of a nationally televised audience, make sure your towel is used for its intended purpose only.

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Waiting For Godunk: 'Tis the Season

My name is Kevin Owens and I have been playing professional basketball for the past six years. I decided to start a blog documenting my daily life. I have a degree in journalism and haven't written anything since college, so I figured why not. I don't particularly think I am that interesting, however when telling people about the traveling circus that is my life, they seem very entertained. I'll be contributing some of those stories once a week here at HHR. You can also now catch me on Twitter @Waiting4Godunk. Hope you enjoy!

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Another Christmas has come and gone and I am happy it’s over. During this season I have a difficult time saying no to Christmas cookies. Thankfully I am back to my regular grueling workout routine. I actually stepped it up so that I can get rid of all the Sam Adams and wine I drank this past week. I really do love Christmas, I just don’t like being at home and jobless while others are sacrificing for the game. Like Thanksgiving, this is a holiday usually not spent with family.

My first Christmas in the D-League was spent in a hotel in Fayetteville, NC. I remember walking across the street to a gas station to get my “Christmas dinner,” and seeing a group of joyful people stopping for gas en route to a party…I never despised anyone more. They were off to hang out with their loved ones while I heated up a day old burrito in the microwave.

Although I would rather be playing during this holiday season, I did enjoy my time at home. I was around my family and saw the excitement on my nieces and nephews’ faces when they opened their gifts. I also had an eye-opening story told to me by my sister.

She told us how her friend’s six year old son received Philadelphia Eagles tickets for an early Christmas present. During warm-ups they walked down to the field to watch as the players went into the locker room. Eagles wide receiver Desean Jackson walked passed, looked into the stands, and tossed a ball to the boy. Already an enormous Eagles fan, his day was made. He spent the remainder of the game talking about how amazing Desean Jackson is. He now spends every night tucked away in bed with his new prized possession.

This is something that is fairly common in sports. A player tosses a ball or an accessory into the crowd. A young fan catches the item and cherishes it for the remainder of his life. How often do athletes realize how much their otherwise insignificant gesture changes the life of someone else? Desean Jackson will be a hero to this boy for years to come.

I had a moment like that when I was in high school. Growing up I was a huge Boomer Esiason fan. (Unfortunately during the mid 80’s the struggling Eagles did not give me the hero I was looking for.) Even though I watched the Eagles every Sunday, I still checked the paper the next day to find out how Boomer did. I continued to follow his career after he left the Bengals for NY, and then when he moved to Arizona, and again back to Cincinnati.

During his time with New York my brother was being recruited heavily by Hofstra University, which happened to be where the Jets held training camp. We took a drive up one late summer’s day to visit the school. While walking through the training room I came face to face with my idol. I couldn’t speak; I just stared in disbelief. I finally mustered up some embarrassing greeting and handed him the Esiason jersey I was currently wearing to be signed. To this day that jersey hangs on the wall of my office. Boomer never knew how life changing that day was to me. It was a chance to meet my childhood hero.

Now I never had as many fans as Desean or Boomer…and yes I did pluralize fan…but I think about all the times after a game in which I threw a wristband into the crowd or shook a youngster’s hand. How much of an impact did I make in their lives? My friend Seth Doliboa and I had a young fan in Roanoke that invited us to his birthday party. Since we made little money, we decided to head over for a chance to make his day and for a free meal. He was ecstatic. I am sure he bragged to all his friends in school about how two of the Dazzle players came to his birthday party.


After winning the championship last year in Kosovo, I had slightly more demanding fans. After every season of my professional career it has become a custom to either graciously accept, or steal my playing jersey. I keep them in my closet so that one day when I am limping around the house, I can show my children that my knees used to work properly.

After the clinching game I was swarmed by fans asking for my jersey…and by fans I mean several middle aged men. I declined, telling them that I bring my jerseys home to show my wife. That did not seem to register. The asking soon turned into demanding. I made it back to the locker room with my jersey, only to be followed by the angry persistent fans. Apparently demanding was going to soon cross into petty theft. I figured if I wanted to hold onto this jersey it was coming into the shower with me. Now that jersey hangs in my closet next to all the others…a proud symbol of my patience and resourcefulness.

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Waiting For Godunk: On Coaching, the Big Dance and Smelly Frenchmen

My name is Kevin Owens and I have been playing professional basketball for the past six years. I decided to start a blog documenting my daily life. I have a degree in journalism and haven't written anything since college, so I figured why not. I don't particularly think I am that interesting, however when telling people about the traveling circus that is my life, they seem very entertained. I'll be contributing some of those stories once a week here at HHR. You can also now catch me on Twitter @Waiting4Godunk. Hope you enjoy!

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I have a little confession to make...I have been waiting to go play for a few months now, but I recently turned down several opportunities. I had the chance to workout for a D-League team and was also offered a deal from a PBL (Premier Basketball League) team. I turned them both down because my dream job became available…A chance to join the staff of a local collegiate basketball program. At this point in my career, I feel the need to start looking towards the future. Coaching would be my first choice.

I have been teaching basketball lessons to students of all ages for the past seven years. During that time I have really honed my coaching skills. I’ve worked with quite a few players who have gone on to successful Division I careers. I believe I will make a great coach one day.

However, passing on jobs is a little stressful. I have never been the best decision maker. If I were ever on Let’s Make a Deal I would walk away with a goat every time.

‘Maybe I should take this deal and pass on coaching…Nah, I’m a shoe in.’

‘Perhaps I should retire from basketball and move on with my life…No way, teams will be knocking down my door.’

‘Perchance I shouldn’t invest in AIG…C’mon, They sponsor Man United, their stock will never drop.’

‘Maybe I should not sell my enormous pick-up truck…Nah, What do I need four wheel drive for?…It’s not like we ever get a blizzard in South Jersey.’

Anyway, the main reason I am so enamored with coaching is because of the atmosphere. I love college basketball. There is so much more passion in collegiate athletics than in the pros. When I think back to the most passionate fans I ever played in front of, it has to be from my sophomore year in college…The most enjoyable, rewarding and memorable season of my career.

Let me set the scene for the Monmouth University Hawks 2000-2001 season. We were a proverbial walking-mat for the NEC (Northeast Conference). During the two seasons prior to 1999, we were 4-23 and 5-21. That’s when we developed the nucleus that would take us to the first NCAA tournament appearance of my career.

During the 1999-2000 season, my freshman year, we acquired two transfers named Gerry Crosby and Rahsaan Johnson. We finished 12-16, respectable for the program at the time. During that summer we took a visit to France and Switzerland…and that is when it happened. It was the fourth quarter of a rough and meaningless game between MU and some random French team. We were playing in what felt like a grade school gym in the middle of August.

Gerry Crosby had the ball on the sideline when a large smelly Frenchmen (trust me I was guarding this monster all game) elbowed Gerry directly in the mouth. G retaliated and the benches cleared. Now, I never believed I would be in a brawl. If I did, I guess I envisioned lots of snapping and dancing. However this was intense. It all happened so fast. I remember having an attempted roundhouse kick flung my direction by a surprisingly limber gentleman. I also remember getting a jab in on a guy half my size. The next thing I know we are being dragged off the court by our coaches. In the locker room after that game something changed. We developed a trust. We realized we are not alone…we were all in this together.

We took that attitude into the season and finished with 21 wins, the most regular season wins in school history. We rolled through the playoffs…until the championship game. That night we played St. Francis (NY), with an NCAA tournament bid on the line. You may have watched it on ESPN. It was the game with no fans. We played in front of a raucous crowd of about 200 people. A powerful snowstorm blanketed the east coast making travel conditions a little shaky. Or at least that’s the excuse my roommates gave me.

As the game wound down we found ourselves in a deep hole. Down by over twenty points with less than fourteen minutes remaining we started to mount, what is now known in Monmouth inner circles, as “The Comeback.”

Little by little the lead was chipped away until it was 61-59 with just over a minute remaining. That is when our two leaders took over. Rahsaan drove into the middle of the lane and kicked to Crosby who buried a three giving us a one point lead, and we never looked back.

In the NCAA tournament we drew, quite possibly, the best Duke team in school history. Although we lost, I still maintain the game was much closer then the 95-52 score indicated. In that game I played against two future teammates. Casey Sanders, my teammate in the D-League, and Nick Horvath my teammate and now good friend, in New Zealand. It’s funny how small the world is when you are seven feet tall.

I was reminded of the Monmouth team this week by a posting on Facebook. It’s amazing how different everyone’s lives are now, but how strong the bonds still remain. I still pop in the highlight tape of “the comeback” every once in a while…or when I can find a VCR that still works.

Who would have thought a seven foot Frenchman would have impacted our lives so drastically. If I could meet this man now, I probably would shake his hand…or offer him some soap.

RIP Jay Dooley…teammate, friend, champion

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Waiting For Godunk: I'm Tall, I Get It.

My name is Kevin Owens and I have been playing professional basketball for the past six years. I decided to start a blog documenting my daily life. I have a degree in journalism and haven't written anything since college, so I figured why not. I don't particularly think I am that interesting, however when telling people about the traveling circus that is my life, they seem very entertained. I'll be contributing some of those stories once a week here at HHR. You can also now catch me on Twitter @Waiting4Godunk. Hope you enjoy!

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Well the Holiday Season is here and that means one thing...More people to stare at me whenever I walk more then ten feet from my front door. I don’t understand how I can live in basically the same area my entire life, but still be treated like I am some sort of mythological beast. What is wrong with you people? I am tall, I get it. I’ve been that way for my entire adult life. Coming up and telling me I am tall only reiterates a point that I am all too familiar with.

January through November, I usually deal with a significant amount of idiots who have some witty comment they have been saving for a tall person like myself. But once December hits, the remarks triple. There’s no way to avoid it. I, like every other person, have to run errands and do my Christmas shopping. That is when I am confronted by the drones of society about my height, either in a positive or unbearably annoying way.

Here was a basic conversation from my recent trip to the grocery store...

Myself: Sara, (my wife) I’ll run over and get the eggs.

Ignorant Observer: Holy F***in Sh*t!! (In front of his kids) You are tall as sh*t.

Myself: yea…
Ignorant Observer: How tall are you?

Myself: I’m 7 feet.

Ignorant Observer: Daaaaamn!!! Hold on...stick your hand straight up in the air.

Myself: Why?

Ignorant Observer: Man, I want to see how tall you are.

Myself: I just told you…Why do I have to lift my arm?

Ignorant Observer: Let me try to jump and slap your hand…

(After several unsuccessful attempts we move along with the conversation.)

Ignorant Observer: Do you play ball?

Myself: Yes.

Ignorant Observer: For who?

Myself: I’m still shopping for a team now.

Ignorant Observer: In the store?

Myself: umm…sure
Ignorant Observer: You should play for the Sixers…they suck.

Myself: I definitely wouldn’t say they suck

Ignorant Observer: Man they’re terrible…

Myself: OK, give them a call.

Ignorant Observer: Hell Yea!! I’m gonna call their ass!

Myself: Terrific

(I wonder if he ever called…Judging by the fact that my phone still hasn’t rang I am guessing he didn’t.)

Stimulating conversations like these seem to be the norm for my life. Only a few people truly understand how annoying this is. They include tall people or family members and friends of tall people. No one else can fully understand the mind numbing conversations I am forced to partake in everyday, until they walk along side of me in a crowded place. That’s when you see how the world reacts to height.

Some people stare without trying to get caught. Some just gawk. Some try to comment in a different language. (I know what alto means…You’re speaking Spanish not some cryptic code, geniuses.)

Some people mean mug me, others prefer to laugh. I don’t really understand the laughter. I guess they are trying to insult me, but I’m not going to feel bad about myself because a 32 year old guy shopping with his mom and wearing an “I Heart Jabba the Hut” T-shirt just giggled at me.

Whichever way people attempt to interact with me, the one question that I dread answering is, “Where do you play?” It is tough because I currently have no answer for it. For most of my life I would have been able to tell them exactly where I was playing. But for now I usually tell them “overseas” and hope they don’t know enough about basketball to realize the season is nearly halfway over. So with that said, I think I will be finishing my Christmas shopping online this year.

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Waiting for Godunk: Losing Control

My name is Kevin Owens and I have been playing professional basketball for the past six years. I decided to start a blog documenting my daily life. I have a degree in journalism and haven't written anything since college, so I figured why not. I don't particularly think I am that interesting, however when telling people about the traveling circus that is my life, they seem very entertained. I'll be contributing some of those stories once a week here at HHR. You can also now catch me on Twitter @Waiting4Godunk. Hope you enjoy!

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So I was lying in bed last night (Pause for obligatory female screaming ala Lance Harbor in Varsity Blues), and I was trying to figure out how I can get this train back on the right track. Then I became sidetracked thinking of how cool the nickname “Train” would be, and how I can get it to stick.

Anyway, I eventually realized that the reason waiting for a basketball job is so stressful, besides the obvious, is that I have no control. I tell myself everyday that I control my destiny. I repeat it to myself in the gym when I don’t want to do another rep. I tell it to myself when I am running and don’t want to go another mile. However I have started to realize that as a professional basketball player in my current situation...I have no control.

The people in control of my life now are my agent and the endless rabble of European coaches and general mangers that constantly inquire about me but don’t pull the trigger. I realize that I can do nothing else at this point to impress them. My time to prove myself has passed. They now know what I can do and what they are getting. Even when they are told how hard I am working, they probably don’t care. They are being told the same thing by the countless number of other agents they are speaking to. Most of the players I am competing against went to well-known basketball colleges. As I have figured out, that apparently matters more than talent. It’s a very superficial world we are living in.

Coming out of college I was a relatively unknown player. I finished my career at Monmouth University and, although I was not a superstar, I was, as my mother told me,"important to the team." I think that’s her nice way of saying that we would not have come in 5th place in the NEC had I not been there. Now that I think of it, maybe that was an insult.

Note to self: Call mom, ask her to explain herself!

I was drafted late in the 2003 NBDL Draft. As mentioned in older posts, I was not the strongest. I quickly learned how important muscles were. We had quite a few centers in training camp, including my brother. They all were stronger than me. I looked like someone’s kid brother out there...oh wait, I was. But I came to practice everyday with a confident attitude. Not only did I make the team but I ended up playing in a league which is one step away from the NBA, for three years.

I then moved my act overseas. I played in Australia, New Zealand, Korea, Poland and Kosovo. In all these locations I went deep into the playoffs, or won the championship. All except Korea...Details to follow in future blog.

I am also what I like to call a "class act." I never tested positive for drugs or was involved in an altercation. I just came to work everyday ready to go. I remember a few teammates of mine who were the exact opposite. One teammate I played with used to come to practice nearly an hour late reeking of alcohol from the night before. I averaged more points and rebounds than him. Yet, he currently has a job playing. Another teammate failed a drug test twice. He is also currently playing. Another teammate was thrown out of team meetings and practice numerous times for having a bad attitude. And yup, you guessed it…he is currently playing. Damn. If only I had lived it up. I could currently be a jerk and an alcoholic, but at least I would have a job.

It all comes down to this. I think I have proven myself to be a reliable asset for several different teams. Now, am I better then every player overseas right now? No. But I feel like I am definitely better than most. So how do I separate myself from the pack? When I figure out the answer to that question I probably won’t be waiting anymore.

I need to figure out how to gain the control back in my life. I guess my recent transaction could be a start. I recently started substitute teaching in a local school. This would be a lot less embarrassing had Eastbound and Down not been such a hit. But as always I have to live by my eternal motto…

"Do as Tony Danza does."

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