By Felicia D. Purcell
While most of my memories are vague of the excitement in and around Oakland after the Golden State Warriors won their 1974-1975 NBA Championship, there are a few things I do recall and that would be that the most popular player, Rick Barry and my cousin George Johnson shot under handed while at the free throw.
My first memories of the Warriors is keeping score in the back seat of our Impala for my beloved daddy as he drove. The legendary Bill King would be blaring, painting a vivid picture of each play; I felt as though I was in the arena but I took more pleasure in hearing my dad's reaction when I'd tell him the Warriors were ahead. However, my most momentous memory would be meeting George for the first time.
The back-up center to Clifford Ray, I would watch George on our small black and white t.v. in the living room of our E. Oakland home approximately 10-blocks from ORACLE Arena. My mom would gently point at the t.v. and say, "That's your cousin," whenever my dad had the game on. I don't recall my initial reaction but what I do recall is thinking wow, he's a tall handsome man with a cool mustache, huge biceps and a large Afro.
When my parents told me I would attending a party at our cousin Gloria's for George in honor of the Warriors winning the NBA Championship I was so happy; not only would I get the chance to stay up late I'd also get to meet that tall handsome man accompanied by his cool mustache, huge biceps and large Afro.
Earth, Wind & Fire's 'Get Away' was blaring through the dark room and everyone was dancing as I stood with my parents watching the love fest, all for George. I particularly remember my younger cousin Chris, Gloria's son, bopping up and down and playing air Congo drums as his small body swung side-to-side.
"Say hello to your cousin," my mother said proudly, a broad smile on her face. Partly afraid of this 6"11-foot monstrosity, it had to be o.k., after all my mom said so and my 5"6 superhero dad was standing there watching.
George picked me up and there I went, ascending into the air like a roller coaster chugging towards its peak. It all went in slow motion and my stomach tickled as I went Up...Up...UP, still a little apprehensive but excitedly awaiting to reach the top. "Hi little cousin," said the handsome man with the cool mustache, huge biceps and large Afro. Over the loud music and through my shyness I managed to mouth a 'hello.' Hey wait, am I heading down already, Before I reached ground level I felt a kiss grace my cheek. The gentle giant just kissed me on my right cheek! A typical kid I was embarrassed and happy at the same time. As soon as I felt my feet touch the floor I bolted to a corner and watched him the remainder of the evening, periodically touching my cheek.
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| My Cousin George and I. Photo by Z'ma Wyatt |
On the ride home I looked into the darkness watching the shadows of trees pass by thinking I couldn't wait to tell my classmates the next day about my night.
The next morning my mother summoned me to wash my face and that's when all hell broke loose. "Felicia, go wash your face," she said. I protested, telling her I couldn't wash off his kiss so I began washing my left cheek. My mother gave me that look before the whooping. "Honey, that is your cousin, you have to wash your face!" When you're seven that's irrelevant, I thought that washing off his kiss would somehow wash away the moment.
When I saw George recently I was finally brave enough to share my story and he gave a heartfelt chuckle.
As the team celebrated the 40th anniversary of their championship George and his teammates fondly reminisced with the media about days gone past. They laughed and got misty reliving their exploits and comical stories.
While I would never experience the path they traveled during that Cinderella year, I do have a wonderful memory of my own that I will never tire of telling, just like them.
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