Look in any direction.
North. South. East. West.
But particularly West.
Thatòòò½ÊÓƵ™s where the best basketball player in the history òòò½ÊÓƵ” the all-time history òòò½ÊÓƵ” of the game was from. In fact, the irony was both touching and factual.
There always was something special about Jerry West being from West Virginia. He always seemed like one of us, whether he was living in Los Angeles, Memphis, San Francisco or Cabin Creek.
Thatòòò½ÊÓƵ™s why West Virginians were so proud of West.
He always seemed like one of us.
Which is also why it is so difficult to say good-bye to West now that he has died at the age of 86.
It is both sad and frustrating at the same time.
We never expect our heroes to pass away. We just donòòò½ÊÓƵ™t. They are supposed to be invulnerable. You name it. Bulletproof, disease-proof, failure-proof òòò½ÊÓƵ¦ our heroes are supposed to live forever òòò½ÊÓƵ¦ and ever.
We never ever want to let them go.
We age, but our heroes arenòòò½ÊÓƵ™t supposed to succumb to that piece of humanity. They are supposed to stand strong forever and ever.
Donòòò½ÊÓƵ™t we wish that were true?
When Jerry West died, it was yet another wake-up call for the rest of humanity. As special as he was. As great as he was. As proud as we all were of him.
At the end of the day, Jerry West died, just like all of us will.
In some ways, that is very sad. But, in other ways, it speaks to our souls. It tells us to live our lives like itòòò½ÊÓƵ™s the only one we will have.
Because it is.
Some people realize that more easily and more profoundly than others. Iòòò½ÊÓƵ™d like to think that Jerry West fell into that category.
Here is why.
Back in 2000, at the changing of the millennium, the former Charleston Daily Mail staff decided to interview well-known West Virginians and chronicle their memories of the Mountain State.
It was quite the success.
Especially for me.
I got Jerry West.
So, I telephoned his office and told the secretary what I was trying to do. A few moments later, my phone rang.
òòò½ÊÓƵœHello,òòò½ÊÓƵ said the speaker. òòò½ÊÓƵœThis is Jerry West.òòò½ÊÓƵ
Wow.
I already was impressed. So, we chatted about the usual things, until I brought up old East Bank High School òòò½ÊÓƵ” Westòòò½ÊÓƵ™s alma mater òòò½ÊÓƵ” in Kanawha County.
West, who grew up in a house under the old Chelyan Bridge, grew very pensive when speaking of that portion of his life.
òòò½ÊÓƵœIt was the best time of my life,òòò½ÊÓƵ West said quietly.
As he spoke of those high school days at now-defunct East Bank High School and how special those memories still were to him, West choked up.
He needed a moment to hit reset.
Except, there wasnòòò½ÊÓƵ™t any reset. This was Jerry Westòòò½ÊÓƵ™s life. And a very special portion of it was spent in old East Bank High School, playing basketball and enjoying his friends.
The mere thoughts and memories of those days rekindled emotions in West that he believed were long gone.
But they werenòòò½ÊÓƵ™t.
Talking about those days and reliving those memories were all it took to bring West back from Inglewood, California, home to Chelyan and East Bank High School.
Jerry West never forgot where he came from.
He was born a West Virginian and he died a West Virginian.
God bless you, Jerry West.