SFCityBear said:

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bearister said:

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01Bear said:

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bearister said:

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Yeah, your Nate story about you and your date in the restaurant is a memorable one and a great testament to what a nice person Nate was.

The thing that gets my goat about the modern game more than anything else: How is a defender supposed to guard a guy that picks up his dribble and walks in for a layup? The very reason the offensive player picked up his dribble is because the defender was sealing him off....then the offensive player flips the script and makes himself unguardable by walking, often resulting in a foul and two FT.

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SFCityBear, what's the story? Would you mind sharing it here?

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I used Google* to locate it. SFCity Bear posted this comment in a thread on 12/16/20 (I copied and pasted):

" I think a told this story before, but I first met Nate Thurmond in Henry Africa's club on Broadway. I was having a drink with my date, when in the door comes Nate Thurmond and his long-time girlfriend. They sat down at a table on the other side of the crowded nightclub. I called the waiter over, and told him to bring a round of drinks for Nate and his ladyfriend, but don't make a big deal out of it. If he asks, just tell him the drinks are from a fan. A few minutes later, the waiter returned, and told me, "Mr. Thurmond won't accept the drinks unless you come over and join them at his table." So we went over to Nate's table and joined them, We spent about 3 hours together telling stories, and had a wonderful time. My date didn't know a basketball from a tennis ball, but we all seemed to enjoy each other. We talked basket ball, but then they wanted to know what we did, and everything about us as well. At the end of the evening, Nate asked me, "What are you doing this weekend?" Nate then said, "Well, I've got to fly down to San Diego this weekend for a game with the Clippers, and I'd like you to come down with me. There is probably no one in San Diego who will buy me a drink."

Nate also opened a restaurant, selling mostly BBQ, using his mother's recipes. Best BBQ in SF. I used to stop by from time to time, and Nate and I always laughed about how we met. Before that time, I had felt that all the 7-footers were eccentric people, not particularly open, somehow a little uncomfortable in their tall frames, but I found Nate the Great to be a very regular guy, and I am very happy to have known him."

* Search terms: bearinsider SFCityBear Nate Henry Africa (I remembered the name of the hostelry)

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Geez, Bearister, Thanks for searching and locating that story. I intended to retell it, but I was tardy in doing so. I got very involved with the Lowell High Alumni Association which is opposing the SF School Board which passed a resolution to rename 44 San Francisco schools, including my high school, junior high, and elementary school.

Anyway, I can add a few small details to the Nate Thurmond story. I remembered that I had met Nate for a moment several years earlier. I had a girlfriend at the time who was about 5 feet tall, and she had this crush on Nate Thurmond, and when we were attending a game in Oakland, she kept asking me if we could get Nate's autograph. I finally gave in, and after the game, we went down to the door of the locker room, where a few people were waiting for the players to come out. Several players came out and some met family members and they went off to their cars in the parking lot. There were three absolute foxes there, dressed to the nines. Out comes Sleepy Floyd, and they all snuggle up to him, and take his arms and walk to his Mercedes, off to a party somewhere, I suppose. Then Nate came out, and my girlfriend, who was very shy, and I asked him for his autograph, which he gladly gave her, and then asked us how we enjoyed the game, and thanked us for coming. He could not have been nicer. My girlfriend had never been up close to someone that tall, and she couldn't stop talking about him all the way home.

I also remembered that Nate opened a restaurant on Fillmore street at the edge of the Western Addition area. He had a cook and a manager who were both relatives, and the menu was mostly his mother's recipes of soul food. It had a bar as well. It was later on that he got the idea to open a soul food BBQ place on Folsom st that served take out or delivered BBQ.

Finally, I will add to the story that you posted above, that when we were about to leave Henry Africa's club, I went outside to get my car, a '54 MG TF Roadster parked a few blocks away, and bring it to the front door and pick up my girlfriend. I had left the top down when I parked it, and during the time we were in the bar, it had rained, a rather heavy downpour. My car was filled to the top of the doors with water. I opened one and all the water rushed out. I had a couple of towels in trunk, and I tried to dry off the passenger seat. The seat was still pretty wet, but luckily, she had so much to drink, she did not notice all the way home.

That is about it. Nate lived up on Twin Peaks, I think, I lived not too far away. I used to see him in his car from time to time in different neighborhoods. Did you know that Nate and Gus Johnson were on the same high school team? Gus was later a star for the Baltimore Bullets.

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Man, those are some great stories!

Also, thank you Bearister for googling and then copy and pasting the first story.

Finally, if SFCB's car was as sweet looking as the one in Bearister's picture, I can see why the ladies were drawn to him!

SFCityBear said:

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bearister said:

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It is so great to hear about sports heroes that are kind, nice people, especially when so many of them are a$$h@les.

Did not know that about Gus Johnson. I have this memory about him that may not be accurate: that he was one of the first players that could launch from the free throw line and dunk.

Finally, this one's for you:

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Gus Johnson was 6-8 as I remember, and played center on that high school team, while Thurmond played forward, maybe because Gus could leap and Nate had that sweet jump shot. Maybe Nate played center when on defense.

Thanks for the photo. That is the car alright, except that mine was black, and had wire wheels. I spent more time underneath it than I did driving it. It was a real chick magnet, as they say. I remember one sunny afternoon driving down Castro st. At a bus stop, a young lady was hitching a ride. The car in front of me pulled over to pick her up. I pulled in behind and gave her the high sign, and she closed his door and hopped into my car. We headed to the Marina for some cocktails. She worked for the Dead or the Jefferson Airplane, and told me to come by a side door at Winterland that night, and she would let me in backstage, and I got to see the whole show. Janis Joplin was there too, as I recall.

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In my limited experience with MGs, they were unlikely enough to start even when they WEREN'T filled with water.

Big C said:

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In my limited experience with MGs, they were unlikely enough to start even when they WEREN'T filled with water.

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And everything under them, including the mechanic, covered with oil.

Electrics by Lucas, the Prince of Darkness.

SU carburetors, aka cream separators.

Get a Miata.

Big C said:

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SFCityBear said:

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bearister said:

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It is so great to hear about sports heroes that are kind, nice people, especially when so many of them are a$$h@les.

Did not know that about Gus Johnson. I have this memory about him that may not be accurate: that he was one of the first players that could launch from the free throw line and dunk.

Finally, this one's for you:

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Gus Johnson was 6-8 as I remember, and played center on that high school team, while Thurmond played forward, maybe because Gus could leap and Nate had that sweet jump shot. Maybe Nate played center when on defense.

Thanks for the photo. That is the car alright, except that mine was black, and had wire wheels. I spent more time underneath it than I did driving it. It was a real chick magnet, as they say. I remember one sunny afternoon driving down Castro st. At a bus stop, a young lady was hitching a ride. The car in front of me pulled over to pick her up. I pulled in behind and gave her the high sign, and she closed his door and hopped into my car. We headed to the Marina for some cocktails. She worked for the Dead or the Jefferson Airplane, and told me to come by a side door at Winterland that night, and she would let me in backstage, and I got to see the whole show. Janis Joplin was there too, as I recall.

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In my limited experience with MGs, they were unlikely enough to start even when they WEREN'T filled with water.

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The car not wanting to start for the driver was a built-in feature. Part of the charm.

01Bear said:

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SFCityBear said:

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bearister said:

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01Bear said:

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bearister said:

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Yeah, your Nate story about you and your date in the restaurant is a memorable one and a great testament to what a nice person Nate was.

The thing that gets my goat about the modern game more than anything else: How is a defender supposed to guard a guy that picks up his dribble and walks in for a layup? The very reason the offensive player picked up his dribble is because the defender was sealing him off....then the offensive player flips the script and makes himself unguardable by walking, often resulting in a foul and two FT.

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SFCityBear, what's the story? Would you mind sharing it here?

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I used Google* to locate it. SFCity Bear posted this comment in a thread on 12/16/20 (I copied and pasted):

" I think a told this story before, but I first met Nate Thurmond in Henry Africa's club on Broadway. I was having a drink with my date, when in the door comes Nate Thurmond and his long-time girlfriend. They sat down at a table on the other side of the crowded nightclub. I called the waiter over, and told him to bring a round of drinks for Nate and his ladyfriend, but don't make a big deal out of it. If he asks, just tell him the drinks are from a fan. A few minutes later, the waiter returned, and told me, "Mr. Thurmond won't accept the drinks unless you come over and join them at his table." So we went over to Nate's table and joined them, We spent about 3 hours together telling stories, and had a wonderful time. My date didn't know a basketball from a tennis ball, but we all seemed to enjoy each other. We talked basket ball, but then they wanted to know what we did, and everything about us as well. At the end of the evening, Nate asked me, "What are you doing this weekend?" Nate then said, "Well, I've got to fly down to San Diego this weekend for a game with the Clippers, and I'd like you to come down with me. There is probably no one in San Diego who will buy me a drink."

Nate also opened a restaurant, selling mostly BBQ, using his mother's recipes. Best BBQ in SF. I used to stop by from time to time, and Nate and I always laughed about how we met. Before that time, I had felt that all the 7-footers were eccentric people, not particularly open, somehow a little uncomfortable in their tall frames, but I found Nate the Great to be a very regular guy, and I am very happy to have known him."

* Search terms: bearinsider SFCityBear Nate Henry Africa (I remembered the name of the hostelry)

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Geez, Bearister, Thanks for searching and locating that story. I intended to retell it, but I was tardy in doing so. I got very involved with the Lowell High Alumni Association which is opposing the SF School Board which passed a resolution to rename 44 San Francisco schools, including my high school, junior high, and elementary school.

Anyway, I can add a few small details to the Nate Thurmond story. I remembered that I had met Nate for a moment several years earlier. I had a girlfriend at the time who was about 5 feet tall, and she had this crush on Nate Thurmond, and when we were attending a game in Oakland, she kept asking me if we could get Nate's autograph. I finally gave in, and after the game, we went down to the door of the locker room, where a few people were waiting for the players to come out. Several players came out and some met family members and they went off to their cars in the parking lot. There were three absolute foxes there, dressed to the nines. Out comes Sleepy Floyd, and they all snuggle up to him, and take his arms and walk to his Mercedes, off to a party somewhere, I suppose. Then Nate came out, and my girlfriend, who was very shy, and I asked him for his autograph, which he gladly gave her, and then asked us how we enjoyed the game, and thanked us for coming. He could not have been nicer. My girlfriend had never been up close to someone that tall, and she couldn't stop talking about him all the way home.

I also remembered that Nate opened a restaurant on Fillmore street at the edge of the Western Addition area. He had a cook and a manager who were both relatives, and the menu was mostly his mother's recipes of soul food. It had a bar as well. It was later on that he got the idea to open a soul food BBQ place on Folsom st that served take out or delivered BBQ.

Finally, I will add to the story that you posted above, that when we were about to leave Henry Africa's club, I went outside to get my car, a '54 MG TF Roadster parked a few blocks away, and bring it to the front door and pick up my girlfriend. I had left the top down when I parked it, and during the time we were in the bar, it had rained, a rather heavy downpour. My car was filled to the top of the doors with water. I opened one and all the water rushed out. I had a couple of towels in trunk, and I tried to dry off the passenger seat. The seat was still pretty wet, but luckily, she had so much to drink, she did not notice all the way home.

That is about it. Nate lived up on Twin Peaks, I think, I lived not too far away. I used to see him in his car from time to time in different neighborhoods. Did you know that Nate and Gus Johnson were on the same high school team? Gus was later a star for the Baltimore Bullets.

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Man, those are some great stories!

Also, thank you Bearister for googling and then copy and pasting the first story.

Finally, if SFCB's car was as sweet looking as the one in Bearister's picture, I can see why the ladies were drawn to him!

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The car was a joy to drive. The soft warm leather seats that smelled so good. It handled great. Later I had a Triumph TR4A, which had a lot more power, but leaked a lot of oil. The MG was a touring car. My dream was to have an Austin Healy, and one of my roomies at Cal had one. It wouldn't run, and stayed parked in the SAE house parking lot for a year. As to the ladies, well, I was cute, but the car was cuter. It was the only car I ever owned that I sold for a profit. Bought it for $275, and sold it for $425. Today, you can buy one for $40,000

bearister said:

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Good read for a hoop junkie....but there was real sadness to his journey.

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Had a friend who played against him - my friend said his claim to fame was that he held Pistol to 46 points

stu said:

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Big C said:

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In my limited experience with MGs, they were unlikely enough to start even when they WEREN'T filled with water.

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And everything under them, including the mechanic, covered with oil.

Electrics by Lucas, the Prince of Darkness.

SU carburetors, aka cream separators.

Get a Miata.

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Ah, Stu, you sound like you have had the experience of owning one of these. I love the British car body designs but don't let them ever engineer the car. Why two carbs for a 4-cylinder engine? Two carbs that were always out of sync, and required constant adjustment. Anything that required fixing required dismantling of most of the car to get at the problem. Trying to keep the wheels clean was a full time job.

My MG had the peculiar habit of not wanting to start about every 4th time that I wanted to take the car for a ride. The problem was a dead spot in the flywheel, where the flywheel teeth were so worn, that the starter pinion would not engage with the flywheel. This was going to be a big repair job, that I refused to tackle. What I did whenever the car would not start, I would unbolt the starter from the engine, pull the starter out an inch or so, put the car in gear, and push the car forward or backward a few inches, which rotated the flywheel a few degrees. Then I pushed the starter back into place, and bolted it down. The car started every time I did this. I carried only two tools in the car, a ratchet handle and a socket wrench for the starter bolts. I could do the whole job in a minute or two.

The car I owned before the MG was a 1950 Plymouth Sedan, where there was so much room inside the hood, you could climb down inside it to work on the engine. The car I owned right after the MG was a 1939 Ford Sedan, which had even more room inside the hood. Except almost nothing ever went wrong with that car. You could fix just about anything inside it with a little oil or some emory cloth. Today, I drive a Toyota 4Runner. No room whatever under the hood, but I've never had to fix anything on it in over 10 years, except the seals on compressor, which had been damaged by the previous owner forgetting to keep the A/C turned on.

"I love the British car body designs.."

Carroll Shelby and Steve McQueen agreed with you.

Quote:

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Ah, Stu, you sound like you have had the experience of owning one of these.

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Two of my friends owned MGs and another owned a Jaguar XK-120 which we named "the albatross". I was (uncharacteristically) able to learn from the misfortunes of others and the first car I bought with my own money was a Renault R8. Admittedly not exactly what you might call a paragon of perfection but easy to work on. I removed a few cables, hoses, and bolts then lifted the engine out my myself (then a 155 lb weakling) and carried it up to my dorm room for a complete overhaul, following an article in Sports Car Graphic. I fitted a single Weber 40 DCOE carb on a manifold I ordered from England, a reground cam, head shaved 1/8" for 11:1 compression, pistons and cylinder liners to raise the displacement from 956 cc to 1108 cc, a 4 -> 2 ->1 exhaust header, and appropriate replacement parts. Ran fine, with a lot more power, though the cam didn't come on till 5000 rpm. Nobody can tell me I learned nothing in college!

bearister said:

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"I love the British car body designs.."

Carroll Shelby and Steve McQueen agreed with you.

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And here is a photo of my childhood friend, Dave Ridenour, in his Lister-Costin Jaguar at Laguna Seca. He was the hottest driver on the west coast for a short period, winning races at Laguna Seca, Riverside, and the Candlestick Park Grand Prix. He had a XK120 Jaguar when I knew him, and all us kids in the neighborhood (Upper Haight Ashbury) helped him take it apart and put it back together again to lighten it. We had lots of nuts, bolts and metal left over. He was killed in 1966, racing on a dirt track in Calistoga.

Reminds me of a time in college when I and friend stuffed ourselves into the back of another friend's MGB GT (not a convertible) to get up to Davis on a 100+ degree hot day--and the car's heater was stuck on whole way.

MSaviolives said:

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Reminds me of a time in college when I and friend stuffed ourselves into the back of another friend's MGB GT (not a convertible) to get up to Davis on a 100+ degree hot day--and the car's heater was stuck on whole way.

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I took the library bus. If you factor in repair stops it was probably faster than an MG.

Well, at least this a partial NBA thread:

Anthony Edwards:

stu said:

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Quote:

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Ah, Stu, you sound like you have had the experience of owning one of these.

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Two of my friends owned MGs and another owned a Jaguar XK-120 which we named "the albatross". I was (uncharacteristically) able to learn from the misfortunes of others and the first car I bought with my own money was a Renault R8. Admittedly not exactly what you might call a paragon of perfection but easy to work on. I removed a few cables, hoses, and bolts then lifted the engine out my myself (then a 155 lb weakling) and carried it up to my dorm room for a complete overhaul, following an article in Sports Car Graphic. I fitted a single Weber 40 DCOE carb on a manifold I ordered from England, a reground cam, head shaved 1/8" for 11:1 compression, pistons and cylinder liners to raise the displacement from 956 cc to 1108 cc, a 4 -> 2 ->1 exhaust header, and appropriate replacement parts. Ran fine, with a lot more power, though the cam didn't come on till 5000 rpm. Nobody can tell me I learned nothing in college!

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Outstanding job, in a dorm room, no less!

This is an NBA thread:

"Luka Doncic turned 22 on Sunday, joining LeBron James as the only players in NBA history with 4,000 points and 1,000 assists before their 22nd birthday.

Head-to-head...

Luka played 164 regular-season games before turning 22 (one full season, one pandemic-shortened season, plus 31 games this season).

Points per game: 25.4
Assists per game: 7.6
Rebounds per game: 8.5
Triple-doubles: 32
Durability: Played in 164 of 189 possible games (87%)

LeBron played 266 regular-season games before turning 22 on Dec. 30, 2006 (three full seasons plus the first 28 games of his fourth season).

Points per game: 26.6
Assists per game: 6.5
Rebounds per game: 6.6
Triple-doubles: 9
Durability: Played in 266 of 274 possible games (97%)

Wild stats:

Doncic: 32 triple-doubles before age 22 are more than twice as many as any other player. Magic Johnson is second with 13.
James has scored 10+ points in 1,030 straight regular-season games. The last time he failed to score in double-digits was on Jan. 5, 2007 a week after his 22nd birthday." Axios