Dr. J: An Autiobiography
Karl Taro Greenfeld, Julius Erving
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Just released today. Enjoy, you sports fanatics!
With startling honesty and an unmistakable voice, Dr. J is a historic self-portrait of an American legend, Julius "The Doctor" Erving.
With his flights of improvisation around the basket and his towering afro, Julius Erving became one of the most charismatic (and revolutionary) players basketball has ever known. But while the public has long revered this cultural icon, few have ever known of the double life of Julius Erving. Dr. J traces the inner lives of the nearly perfect player and the imperfect man--and how he has come to terms with both.
a technical on us. I look over at the ref, a bald guy with a mustache and a chest puffed out like a rooster. He looks at me as if to say, What are you going to do about it? Mr. Wilson is clapping. “Don’t worry about it. Focus. Focus.” But the next time down the court, when George’s man swings over to double-team me and I pass the ball to George, he is called for traveling again. “What the—?” George bounces the ball hard off the floor. I grab him and pull him downcourt. “Don’t worry about
Hills North, the athletic dorm just down Pleasant Street from the campus pond, I move my suitcases up into my dorm room where my mom makes my bed for me and puts away my clothes in the careful, precise, sharply folded manner that I like. Marky points out that we live on Pleasant Avenue in Roosevelt. “That’s quite a coincidence.” I tell him that we’re on Thatcher, off Pleasant, but still, I can see that Marky finds the parallel reassuring. Mom insists that I show her the athletic dining hall
steam coming from the kitchen, the wet grassy smell of the greens. My mother’s voice singing a hymn: At the cross where I first saw the light The burdens of my heart rolled away It was there by faith that I first received my sight And now I’m happy all the day. Freda. Marky. Mom and me. We’re four of us. I’m the man of the house, Mom told me. I’m older than Marky, my younger brother, Marvin. He’s a baby, in his crib, wheezing. Still in a diaper. If I stand on tiptoes, if I jump, I can see
penthouse in downtown Norfolk with a waterfront view. And I’m just one guy, basically a bachelor. I tell him that sounds fine. I’ll stay up in New York and join the team for their game at the Nassau Coliseum and then drive back down myself. That’s what I have to admire about Earl. We go through four months of bitter legal battles about where I’m supposed to play, accusing each other of cheating and saying awful things about each other in court filings. But when the judges hand down their
estate agent and we drive around a few neighborhoods and look at some houses. I decide I want to live on the beach, not far from where Marky, Freda, and I used to go swimming. She shows me a condominium in a brand-new development in Lido Beach, and I close on a modest one-bedroom next to the water, about twenty minutes from Hempstead and the Nassau Coliseum where the Nets play. I offer $50,000 and we make the deal. Irwin is pleased with how prudent I am being with my money, but I have learned