Former NBA center Jason Collins battled brain cancer.
Former NBA center Jason Collins battled brain cancer.Jonathan Bachman/Associated Press
Every day seems to serve up harsh and painful reminders that the good ol’ days are just decaying memories, that your childhood heroes are indeed mortal and will perish, and that even your peers aren’t promised long lives.
A few hours Tuesday after the shocking death of NBA forward Brandon Clarke, which is being investigated as a possible drug overdose, the league announced the death of Jason Collins, a former NBA center who was battling brain cancer. He was 47 years old.
That may not sound very young, but it is when you remember 17-year-old Jason playing high school basketball along with his twin brother, Jarron, in Southern California in the mid-1990s — literal twin towers swatting away shots and dunking on overwhelmed opponents for Harvard-Westlake School.
My journey with the twins took me to Arco Arena in Sacramento, where they teamed to win the California Division 3 state championship over Sacramento Grant, and as much as I tried to nudge them to consider my alma mater, Cal, as a college destination, they decided on Stanford.
Both reached the NBA, Jason as a physical center who played in two Finals with the Nets, Jarron as a versatile forward mostly with the Jazz. Toward the end of his career, Jason landed with the Celtics, by then a backup whose best skills were screening and laying hard fouls.
A few weeks after the 2012-13 season, months after he was traded by the Celtics to the Wizards, Jason went public about his sexuality in a Sports Illustrated article, becoming the first active NBA player to be openly gay. It was a landmark decision, one that influenced several athletes who followed him, sending a message that world-class athletes can be gay, too.
And for the final 12 years of his life, Jason became a symbol of independence and bravery. He continued to play in the NBA after his announcement, with no incident or judgment. He was highly respected among his peers, a gentleman of the game whose crusade for acceptance became the mark of his courage.
That courage was tested even further when he announced last year that he was diagnosed with Stage 4 glioblastoma, an aggressive brain tumor. In December, he penned a moving article discussing his struggles with cancer.
At All-Star Weekend this past February in Los Angeles, I learned that Jason would be participating in an NBA Cares event just 10 minutes from my childhood home in South Los Angeles. My 80-year-old stepfather and 78-year-old mother offered to drop me off at the Weingart YMCA, where the great Oscar Robertson, NBA commissioner Adam Silver, and Dominque Wilkins were present, along with dozens of kids. There I sought out Jason.
He was kind enough to give me some of his time. We discussed the old days. It had been 30 years since that state championship game. Jason had transformed from a 7-footer teenager with limitless potential to a 47-year-old man in the battle of his life. Still, despite his condition, dabbing sweat from his brow, he made time for the kids.
The kids were his focus. He was reluctant to discuss his condition, complain about his plight, or laud himself for even participating with his declining health. Jason wanted to talk about the new basketball court for the younger generation of kids, how helping out and serving as a role model not only for the LGBT community but for other communities was therapeutic, and how it gave his life true purpose.
And that final decade of Jason’s life was filled with fulfilling that purpose, living in his own skin, reaching the point where his sexuality became an afterthought. He shifted his focus to ensuring that glioblastoma patients in America could receive the best treatment, but he was relegated to traveling to Singapore for medication because it wasn’t approved by the FDA.
“It was so frustrating, once I realized where my situation was and you have to do this particular standard of care before you do anything else,” he told me. “It made me upset, so when people are like, ‘OK, I have a brain tumor, what can I do?’ Unfortunately, you have to do chemotherapy, radiation, and then a shot of Avastin. But there are other options.
“So I want people to know that I’ve gone to Singapore because Singapore gave me full access within 48 hours. The FDA is very strict, and it would have been weeks had we had tried to wait. I don’t have weeks. Because of what we’ve done in Singapore, I put more time on my clock.
“It’s kind of funny how all things relate back to sports.”
He smiled. Jason knew his time was limited, but the battle continued. Jason’s was a life well-lived. He broke barriers. He galvanized communities. He fought with humility and grace. In many ways, he carried the same characteristics of that 17-year-old from three decades ago. But instead of merely an NBA player, Jason evolved into a pioneer, a leader, a hero.
“It’s kind of weird,” he said of the attention. “But it obviously makes me feel good that I’ve lived a life that has had a positive impact on other people. So I think that’s a goal for every professional athlete, is to have a positive impact on someone else. It’s about legacy. So, yeah, that’s all I can say.”
Gary Washburn is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at gary.washburn@globe.com. Follow him @GwashburnGlobe.