Loy Vaught:  A Personal Remembrance
By:  Gary Adornato
11/08/01
 
 
Report out of Atlanta is that Loy Vaught has been bought out of the last
$11 mil of his contract, and has announced his retirement. The stated
cause is the continuing struggle to overcome a serious back injury that
resulted in a metal plate being used to stabilize his spine some years
ago; likely, the injury issue will be the basis for applying for a
medical exemption by the Wizards.

This is your basic ho-hum transaction note: a player who achieved a
moderate level of past success, but who hasn't been a feature player for
many years, retires from the game. And there's little to feel sorry
about for Loy - a decent career, a great last contract, a lump sum
parting gift.
 
My note here is personal.
 
When I first approached the Maverick locker room last season, it was
with a sense of total confusion. Players milled around in various stages
of after-game, wandering in and out of the showers and training room
while reporters, cameramen and officials hung out in small packs at the
center, or huddled with a player quietly next to a locker. It was my
first time, I was there alone, and I was as intimidated as a 44-year-old
fan-turned-journalist could be.
 
Must have shown. From a locker near the door, a voice offered: "You look
lost. Can I help? My name is Loy Vaught." The voice was followed by a
warm handshake, and a wonderful, genuine smile. Over the months to come,
I would always stop at that locker near the door, often getting more
encouragement and support from Loy than I could offer to a proud player
whose career was winding down, and who was painfully aware of that fact.
 
Loy was my reference point for so much. When I "used" him to practice
interviewing on, he'd coach me on etiquette, on the types of questions
to ask, and on when to approach people. The team then was a bit
different - four new rooks, a handful of changes, and the talents of
Dirk and Nash just becoming evident... Loy would point things out to me,
quietly so that I wasn't embarrassed, and I'd gratefully write about
them as best as I could.
 
Loy knew what he was, or rather wasn't any more. He was looking forward
to mentoring rookies Etan, Donnell and Najera, to teaching a trick or
two to Trent and Dirk, and to being an elder statesman on a young team
that could use that support. A pure class act, Loy had the skins - he'd
been a star player with the Clips in his heyday - to command some
respect, and the generosity to stand in the background and cheer.
 
I remember the first time that I asked what some of Loy's remaining
goals were. It was December, and he pointed to Nowitzki. He told me that
he wanted to be here to watch Dirk become special - that nobody realized
yet how unique, how dominant Dirk would become. He wanted to be there to
see this team gel, and to be whatever small part of it he could be. He
often spoke of the chemistry, warning me that I was taking for granted
the locker room, pointing out that there simply weren't any like it for
harmony, for support and for quality of people.
 
I hope that Loy enjoyed the relationship. It might have been a small
pleasure for him to have someone to mentor as a journalist - his
personality made giving a priority - and on one day, I had a chance to
give a tiny bit back. Loy was being sent for a series of tests on his
back, apparently a procedure that he hadn't been through before. As it
happened, I'd been through those tests and MRI's dozens of times, so I
got the chance to sit with him and walk him through the natural fears.
That moment of giving some small comfort back was one of my precious
memories of that whole period.
 
As the trading deadline neared, I wrote an article suggesting that
Vaught would be traded to Washington in a deal for Howard. I had it just
wrong - I had Eisley going instead of Davis, and no Ekezie coming back -
but I was sure that something was going down. As I wrote it, I was torn
- rooting against losing my locker-room buddy, but believing that the
team needed the infusion of Howard and Booth to get to a higher level.
Vaught was kind (he never once helped me on my speculation, and often
politely ignored it) but it was clear that he had something to say on
the matter. Two days before the deadline, I asked him if I could do
anything to help... and his response floored me.
 
Loy asked if my family prayed. I said yes, and we talked a bit about our
respective faiths (his is a strong and loving one). He asked my family 
to pray that I was wrong, and that he would be allowed to remain in 
Dallas, to finish out his career in service to this Maverick team he had
just experienced. We did pray, sincerely, but I continued to write that
the trade would have to happen, that the Mavs would have to move 
Alexander and Laettner and Thomas... and my new friend, Loy Vaught. It
was a lesson in basic journalism, and it was tough... but Loy never once
took it personally, never flinched from addressing it when we spoke.
 
I didn't get a chance to say goodbye. When the trade was announced that 
day, I was running from room to room, gathering quotes, phoning in my 
information as quickly as I could. By the time I was able to get down to
the locker room, all the traded players had left. I was quick with the
work, and I was right with the guesses, but it really wasn't a good day
for anyone there - Davis was a special person to so many, and I wasn't
alone in my feeling for Vaught. New friends like Marc Stein, Matt Pinto
and Mark Followill all knew Vaught as a treasure, all were touched by
his basic goodness and warmth.
 
I learned more about the business of sports that day than I expected to.
I understood Nellie and Mark - believe to this day that they sincerely
hurt for the good people that they trade away, but understand the
overwhelming priority of making their team the best that it can be. I
admired the heck out of them both, seeing them as caring and involved...
and understanding that it would be easier to simply not care, to stay
detached and do what needed to be done without the complications. They
choose the hard way, and Mark in particular must have had some tough
times at first... but neither has yet flinched from what needed to be
done, and the team is what it is because of that.
 
I wasn't sure enough of myself, or of the etiquette involved, to get
Loy's cell number or email address. Never asked. I was hoping that when
Washington came to town on December 8th (as it happens, my birthday)
that he'd accompany the team, and I'd be able to get a message through.
Silly, but I wanted to let Loy know that we still prayed for him, and
that I still was thankful for the hand that he extended on that first
day in the locker room.
 
A good man. I hope (and trust) that the next phase of his life will be
equally successful, and that he'll find a team that he can stay with for
as long as he chooses.