God, how I wanted to be Eddie Doucette.
Eddie was the voice of the expansion Milwaukee Bucks who came into being in 1968-69. He'd be at my side each night as my favorite hoop team battled the likes of Wilt Chamberlain and Willis Reed while I went to war with Mrs. Spindler's sixth grade math assignments. The Bucks were pretty wretched back then (as I was with my homework), since these were the pre-Alcindor days.
Still, we listened for Eddie.
The Bucks weren't competitive but Doucette framed the games so that each night was a struggle for Milwaukee's NBA respect--a scrappy bunch of expansion cast-offs fighting as one against pro basketball royalty. Yes, they'd lose, but they'd make a game out of it by working together for the common good, all while Doucette told of men in "the toaster" or strolling down "the boulevard of broken dreams". He had a glossary all his own (available in eight-packs of Coca-Cola bottles) and a legion of young fans including me who lived to hear the Bucks' struggles. Other guys had pictures of jocks on their walls--this middle-schooler had Eddie peering down at him each night, holding a mike and sporting a set of Koss headphones the size of the average family room.
Eddie was the voice of the expansion Milwaukee Bucks who came into being in 1968-69. He'd be at my side each night as my favorite hoop team battled the likes of Wilt Chamberlain and Willis Reed while I went to war with Mrs. Spindler's sixth grade math assignments. The Bucks were pretty wretched back then (as I was with my homework), since these were the pre-Alcindor days.
Still, we listened for Eddie.
The Bucks weren't competitive but Doucette framed the games so that each night was a struggle for Milwaukee's NBA respect--a scrappy bunch of expansion cast-offs fighting as one against pro basketball royalty. Yes, they'd lose, but they'd make a game out of it by working together for the common good, all while Doucette told of men in "the toaster" or strolling down "the boulevard of broken dreams". He had a glossary all his own (available in eight-packs of Coca-Cola bottles) and a legion of young fans including me who lived to hear the Bucks' struggles. Other guys had pictures of jocks on their walls--this middle-schooler had Eddie peering down at him each night, holding a mike and sporting a set of Koss headphones the size of the average family room.
The neatest thing about Eddie Doucette: he was cool, and he had the best seat in the house for the games we lived in died for: the Packers were in decline, the Brewers weren't here yet or were painful to watch, and the only thing for a sports-addled kid to catch on a week night was NBA drama as told, in staccato bursts, by Doucette.
Our loyalty earned us quick rewards--the Bucks won the NBA title in 1971 after drafting Alcindor the season before. Good times followed, with Milwaukee remaining competitive and the NBA entertaining into the early 90's.
Where is the league now?
Where is the league now?
It's changed...not all for the good. The lament of the modern day pro hoop fan is laid out in glorious detail right here, by an MSNBC contributor. He gets it down much better than I can, and, while I realize it can't be 1970 again, the fact that fans like me care enough to bitch means we also love the pro game enough to want it to morph back into something a little more palatable.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17354630/
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17354630/
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