After calling his final regular season game, we say goodbye and thank you to the LA Clippers’ legendary commentator, Ralph Lawler.
I’ll be honest, I didn’t much care about the basketball game being played last night. By the time I had gotten to the arena, the LA Clippers’ playoff seeding had already been decided, as both Oklahoma City and San Antonio had won their final games, leaving the Clippers firmly in the 8th seed. The Clippers would have to face the Golden State Warriors in the first round. The game being played, seemed rather insignificant compared to what was going to be celebrated at half-time. That celebration was what had brought me to the arena anyway.
What I had gone to witness was the end of not only an era of Clipper basketball, but an end to a very large part of my life. Ralph Lawler had been the narrator to my basketball life for as long as I can remember. And over his 40 year career as the Clippers’ broadcaster, I’m sure there are many, many more people who feel that way, too. I wouldn’t, well, couldn’t, have missed last night for anything. I needed to be in the building to help send off a man who had so powerfully impacted my life.
You see, being a Clippers’ fan wasn’t the easiest choice growing up.
I was born and raised in Los Angeles and was constantly reminded by those around me that the team I rooted for “needed to leave their city”, as though I didn’t belong just because I liked a team that didn’t wear purple and gold. The team’s play didn’t really help much either. I suffered through years of rooting for the laughingstock of the NBA, given fleeting moments of joy from the likes of Darius Miles, Q-Rich, and Elton Brand.
But the one constant good thing in my basketball existence was Ralph. He made the lowest points palatable. His energy and excitement were contagious. His love for the game and the team made me fall in love, too. I was hooked. I owe a lot of my fandom to Ralph. I also owe a lot of my basketball vernacular to him.
“Bingo!”
“Oh me oh my”
“Lawler’s Law”
All phrases that are now embedded in the fabric of how I came to love the game. All phrases that make me smile. All phrases that I will miss.
The moment I had been waiting for was an emotional, albeit short, ceremony. There was a tribute video. I started to choke up. There was an introduction, a presentation of gifts. Then, Ralph was given the microphone. He thanked his wife, the organization, the fans. He repeated what he had said in his interview with Jovan Buha of The Athletic, saying that he wished he was 10 years younger to witness the multiple championships the team was going to win. He left, hand in hand with Sweet Jo.
I cried. I probably wasn’t the only one.
Ralph means so much to me, to us. Him leaving now hurts, especially with the organization finally being in position to rise to true, sustained success and recognized legitimacy. He gave us an air of respectability, of class, even at our lowest point. He was one of the only things that was unassailable about our organization. He deserves a statue, and should be the first one the Clippers put up. He deserves a banner, too.
And even if this doesn’t make it’s way to him, I hope he knows how much we appreciate him. So I want to end this with a heartfelt thank you. The joy you brought to every broadcast will not soon be forgotten. We will miss you more than you will ever know, Ralph.