I started watching basketball the year that Larry Sanders
was drafted. Looking back at that roster, it’s hard to believe that the Bucks
were even 9th in the conference. Keyon Dooling played meaningful
minutes. I’d already decided to watch the Bucks and make them my team, which
ended up being a rough time to hop on the creaking Bucks wagon. Sanders became
a player of interest for me as he and I both arrived on the scene at the same
time, albeit in a much different capacity. I hadn’t yet learned enough about
the game to dissect a bad player, but I noticed that Sanders got very little
play time, and when he did, he either shot long range 2 point shots that never
went in or dropped the ball when passed to him around the basket. At the very
least I knew enough to know that Sanders wasn’t very good. I wanted to make a
connection between Larry and me, between our ventures and hopeful success, but
I couldn’t. Despite the self-created connection I wished to make, I didn’t
become attached. He wasn’t a lovable loser. He just struggled and it was hard
to watch.
His second season shapes up to be mostly the same in my
memory. The Bucks didn’t run a real center that year, working Drew Gooden to
the bone at the 5. A lot of his time on the court resulted in flagrant fouls,
earning him a reputation as a hothead. He seemed to hold the team back more
than anything else. My opinion was entrenched against Larry, having without
intention become emotionally invested in the Bucks without investing in any particular
player. I called for his dismissal, although at the time I didn’t understand options
like buyouts or anything like that. I believed that he sucked irrevocably, he
was a bust and the team should have found a better player for that roster spot.
The next season was his pleasant turnaround. Larry finally
came through and developed an NBA caliber skill, earning him the nickname LARRY
SANDERS among bloggers and fans. It came late in that season, just in time to
help the Bucks earn the right to get stomped by the Heat in 4 games, but that
didn’t matter all that much to me. I had heard from Ted Davis that “the long
arms of Larry are the law of the lane” and that was fun enough. He still got
plenty of flagrant fouls and he might have been a net negative with his
improving-but-still-bad offensive skills, but Larry, more than any other player
in the league, again felt like the guy that I wanted to see be a leader and a
star. The Bucks’ choice to sign him for big money to him lead me to believe
that he was finding his way. It was silly for me to believe it, but with this
found and substantiated investment, his success after such a period of
not-success helped me feel that I might find success too, on my path in my own
way.
I don’t need to rehash what all happened to Larry in 2013. I
drafted him early on my first ever fantasy basketball team with confidence, but
really, fuck fantasy sports. They don’t matter. People mocked him for problems,
but I felt bad that so many people I read online or knew in my life turned on
him. If someone started giving me millions of dollars, I’d probably party a bit
too. Larry should have been more mature, sure. I know people who get shitfaced
and do things they regret. I still do things that I regret. We’re just not on
the same stage that Larry is, that all professional players are. Some might say
that with limelight comes responsibility, but so help me I’m going to see Larry
as a human being, not a role model, a piece on a game board, or whatever. I’ve
never met Larry, probably never will, but through the course of watching him,
then despising him, then embracing him, I was a fixture on the Sanders
bandwagon. I greatly anticipated his return to this season, excited to see him
help lead the Bucks out of the gutter into something more beautiful than it had
been in the past few decades combined.
Now, Larry is gone from the team. Reports from Yahoo make it
sound like he’s out of the league because he can’t quit smoking weed. I’m
pretty sure that’s wrong, but even if that’s the case, marijuana should be
legal. Even if the States haven’t caught up yet, the NBA should fix its’ shit.
I’ve also been told rumors that he might have cancer. I certainly hope that’s
not the case. I’ve had friends mock him, and I’ve jokingly said I’ll be holding
a candlelight vigil, but I actually feel a little bad to be saying shit like
that. With ridiculously little insight into his life, I find myself a fan of
Larry Sanders the person. As talk of the buyout dragged on, I hoped against
common sense that Larry would find his way back on the court. I selfishly want
him to be covered and discussed so I can continue to chart his life and see his
ups and downs compared to mine, rooting for him to improve as a player and grow
as a person, validating my fandom to the world. Yet outside of a stray future
follow-up, that some journalist might wonder what is going on with Larry and
get in touch, he’s out of sight and out of mind.
I’ll hazard that the buyout is what’s best for Larry and
leave it at that. I suspect that my affinity for the man will wane with him off
the Bucks and out of sports chatter. My faith that he flourishes is fixed at
this point though. Larry, know that you’ve got fans and we wish you the
absolute best.
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