Hank Gathers

Rarely does one man have such an impact on another's life despite the fact that they never met. Hank Gathers, a prolific college basketball player, died March 4, 1990. I was eight years old at the time. From that day until today, I have shed many a tear pondering this tragedy.

Hank Gathers, #44, forward from Loyola Marymount.


Hank's style of play was exciting. He led the nation in scoring one year. Due largely to Hank, along with teammate Bo Kimble, a fellow Philadelphian, who was friends with Hank before college, Loyola Marymount was the most anticipated team to watch thanks to coach Paul Westhead's frenetic philosophy of more points, more success. This basketball doctrine is actually quite different from my own belief in the power of defense.

During a West Coast Conference tournament game, Gathers collapsed on the court. People witnessed on television the fall of a great player and a likable man. While many felt sad, anger was boiling in the hearts of those in the know. Hank had collapsed the previous December of a heart condition.

Hank was a terrible free throw shooter. It was the one weakness of his game. By the end of his life, his form had broken down into a one-handed hurl at the basket from fifteen feet away. He'd grab the ball in his left hand, keep his right hand off as if the ball were a precious jewel, and pray that it went in. After Hank died, Bo borrowed Hank's form for each first free throw attempt. It went in every time.

Hank Gathers died just one and a half short months after my father. I believe grieving for Hank all these years has been a way for me to grieve for my father. My dad never played basketball, never even enjoyed the game. He probably knew virtually nothing about it. But Hank has given me an outlet to express my emotions, on terms that I can understand. I really can't articulate it any more than that. I will simply continue to reflect on Hank every March 4th. And whenever else I feel the need.