Kemba Walker, local New York hero
He was not as hyped up as Felipe López, but he was better than Sebastian Telfair. His quickness and work ethic brought him to bigger places than expected.
Last week, Kemba Walker announced that he is retiring from basketball at age of 34. His shockingly shot knees made his career decline. The annoucement came by way of the Caremlo Anthony and The Kid Mero podcast, 7PM in Brooklyn, which Walker was a guest of, on the 5th. In a Ruff Ryders hockey jersey, Walker was humble, with a raw amount of self-respect. “Before anything, I have to thank the man above, blessing me for the ability to play basketball and travel the world”, Walker said. “I want everyone to know that I am retiring. It was a great run, a helluva run.” A true believer in family and the sacrifices your elders make for your talent to shine abundantly, Walker thanked his parents for holding it down for him despite their lack of economic freedom. He thanked local heroes like Corey Fisher and Mo Hicks; names that all Black male New Yorkers of a certain time know. It was a reflection by way of nostalgia. Is the point guard from New York still alive? Maybe not. Regardless, hearing Walker talk will flood your brain with recollections before they took the soul — the Black soul — away from the city.
Walker was the son of two Carribean immigrants, one from Antigua and the other from the US Virgin Islands. He grew up in the Sack-Wern Houses in Soundview, a neighborhood in The Bronx. Soundview is a remarkable neighborhood, bordered by the underappreciated 6 Line, and was home to names like Big Pun, Phil Spector, Justice Sonia Sotomayor, the infamous Sex Money Murder gang, and KRS-One. Walker forged his own legend there, and friends of mine in high school who lived in Soundview would tell stories of Walker’s game, and personality. The Bronx, widely made fun of but widely celebrated by the real, was the perfect neighborhood for Walker to call home: underappreciated, gritty, and blessed.
Catholic high school hoops in NYC is something that you had to be there for, and Rice High School in Harlem — where Walker went — was the greatest of its kind; a baptism of sorts, for hoopers with dreams of making it further than their neighborhoods. Rice was a borderline factory, churning young players out by the year. Basketball was heaven; contention for city or state titles was expected. Calling Gauchos gym in The Bronx its home, Rice was eden before it shut down in 2011 due to financial difficulties, and Walker was, of course, a part of that legacy, but not its most famous alumni. Felipe López, another alumni, was on the cover of Sports Ilustrated. López, however, was a phenom, the Dominican Michael Jordan who sparred with Bill Clinton on the national stage. Walker was less heralded than that, and it made his story infinitely more compelling. It wasn’t until his junior year, after a win over Derrick Rose’s Simeon High School at Madison Square Garden, that Walker became a prospect that people were excited about. He was later a McDonald’s All-American and committed to UCONN, a place that has been home to more than a few New York products.
Was he always going to be a star? I would have bet some loot on it, but not everyone. At merely six foot, Walker played bigger — played fearlessly. How can that grit continue against bigger talent, though? It was the question on everyone’s minds. Walker shined in college too; as a freshman, as well as later in his college career, in case you didn’t remember. In the Elite Eight against a scrappy Missouri team, Walker was the best player on the floor for the Huskies, scoring 23 points and leading them to victory. The next year ended in disappointment for the Huskies, but it was his junior year – once again — that provided Walker with a legacy for generations to come.
College basketball is about the magical run, not total domination. Usually, it happens in the NCAA Tournament. The beauty of Walker’s run in junior year was that the entire season was magic, even when it was a grind for the relatively young team. Not expected to compete for a title, they began the season unranked. The moments in that season are burned in people’s brain, including this writer: The Maui invitational, when he embarrassed Brandon Knight and Kentucky; the 31 points against Georgetown. None was more memorable than in the Big East Tournament, when Walker hit Pittsburgh’s Gary McGee with a step back from heaven, or hell if you ask McGee. In that play, Walker was back at Soundview: a switch prompted McGee to think that he had a chance at guarding Walker and he took advantage with glee, dribbling the ball back and forth — with an Iverson-esque crossover — to get McGee off balance until McGee’s hands were on his ankles. It was half-ballet, half-basketball. “Cardiac Kemba!”, the announcer said.
UCONN won the title that year, but everyone remembers that play specifically. That summer, he was drafted by the then-Charlotte Bobcats, now Charlotte Hornets. Watching Walker in the NBA would make me smile. It took him a while to find his footing against stiffer competition, but as usual, he persevered, turning the Hornets into a playoff team with their own culture. On pick and rolls, Walker was devastating, abusing switch happy defensive teams. He would later make four all-star games and a 2018-2019 All NBA team. When he joined the New York Knicks, after knee injuries cut his time with the Boston Celtics short, it was ephemeral, but a celebration more than anything. The marriage ended in a disappointing divorce: He was out of the rotation and sidelined by February.
To see Walker was to see the last remaining New York beacon. The city is much different now. As he retires from the NBA, only the Pelicans’s Jose Alvarado remains as a product of the CHSAA (Catholic High School Athletic Assocation) league. The story is rewarding: Walker took his talent, and made it considerably larger, through an exceptional work ethic and spirit. The logic of work ethic can be weird in basketball — the greatest athletes in the world are in the NBA — but there is a world where Walker does not become as excellent as he was, in his entire basketball career. In the wake of his retirement, there’s been people from New York — people who lamented the moral rot that has made this city less dynamic — talking about what Walker meant to them. I think he’s valued because he comes from a time where local sports was impactful, where you could run into a stranger who would know what Walker did at Gauchos Gym the night before; the time where Tom Konchalski was the only scout that mattered. Or, such as myself, your friends could look up to someone who is making it out while still being true to themselves, as you dream to do. New York basketball is no longer the mecca, as Jersey or Connecticut prep schools and YouTube highlights, have become Christmas Day for the wide-eyed teenager. The loss of local basketball programs is rooted in a certain kind of capitalism, the kind that strips away opportunities for local heroes like Walker to become college legends and all-stars.