Photo by Valdhy Mbemba
I learned yesterday morning of Dikembe’s death from a brain tumor. Today I had a conversation with his wife, Rose, in Atlanta which is the home of the Mutombo family. She and Dikembe share the same characteristics of warmth, love, and engagement with others. We didn’t talk about basketball. We talked about his gift to the world by his very presence. The family is in deep grief watching his fighting spirit to the insidious disease of a cancerous brain tumor which was diagnosed two years ago.
Her son’s response was why did something like this happen to my dad. He was so good. I told her that was the first question that I thought when I learned of his death. His memory of love and affection for family and the world beyond is his greatest legacy. They are a family of faith and will need that moving forward. Even though the outcome of his illness was known, it still came as a sudden shock to them and to the many of those who benefitted from his warmth and affection.
She finally broke into laughter when I told her that whenever he saw me, he and his big smile would come over and embrace me. I am six feet one inches tall, but I was always looking into his stomach. He was a hugger. He would call out, Reverend, and follow up with, “How are you?” and then the embrace. I know that I was just one out of a million who received the gift of his friendship. Rose said, “I am not saying this because I am his wife, but he was such a good person.” I asked her to give EA’s best and our prayers to her children as well as to her.
Not one word about basketball! When I picked up the Inquirer this morning, there was an article on the front page about Pete Rose’ death as well as Dikembe’s passing. The whole article about Rose was filled with impressive stats of what he did on the baseball diamond. Surely, he was one of the greatest, but there was little about his character except to remind us that he gambled in baseball and never got into the Hall of Fame.
Dikembe’s stats are noteworthy as well. He played two seasons for the Sixers, including on their 2000-2001 team that reached the NBA Finals and played the final years of his career with the Houston Rockets during Morey’s tenure as general manager. When Morey, who is now the seventy sixers president of basketball operations, learned of his death during a press conference on media day, he paused to reflect on what Dikembe meant to him. (Inquirer)
“There aren’t many guys like him,” Morey said. “Just a great human being. When I was a rookie GM in this league, my first chance in Houston, he was someone I went to all the time. He was older than me, which is rare, and obviously his accomplishments on the court. We don’t need to talk about too much, but just an amazing human being, what he did off the court for Africa.” (Inquirer)
I knew more about Dikembe’s work in the Congo than I did about his legendary court statistics, but when he wraps his arms around you all you can think about is that Gospel hymn “he has the whole world in his hands.” He is not God, but he is the embodiment of being a good citizen of the world. Rose, his wife, would tell you that.
So, back to the front page of the Inquirer for a large lesson, one article on Rose and the other on Mutombo. When our obituaries are written, do we want it to focus on personal stats and great deeds that we did on the field of life, or would we rather choose to be known for what we did for others on and off the court?
The answer can tell us about the direction of our lives.
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