Dikembe Mutombo was surrounded by his teammates, every last one of them, as they whispered words of encouragement, touched him, let him know they cared.
It was an extraordinary scene for the Rockets in Portland on Tuesday night as Mutombo lay on the floor, his left knee wrecked, his 18-year NBA career apparently over. He cried tears of joy and sadness, tears of pain, tears of thanksgiving. Only later would he remind us all how lucky he'd been.
"I need to be positive and thank God for the wonderful 18 years I had," the 7-foot-2 center said.
Because Mutombo was lucky, we were lucky. We're the ones who should be thankful for having a professional athlete who took seriously his responsibilities of being a role model and using his influence to do good deeds.
Why must endings be like this? So abrupt, so painful. Mutombo, of all people, a man of charity and grace, a man beloved by so many, deserved to go out with an appropriate punctuation mark.
Come to think of it, maybe this was the perfect ending. Maybe that's how Mutombo will see it in years to come.
He was reminded Tuesday night that he touched people in a way most NBA players do not. The respect he drew went way beyond blocked shots and rebounds. Hopefully, he saw it in the looks of those helping him onto that stretcher, then heard it when Portland fans gave him a long, loud ovation.
That's just a beginning. Over the next few days, he's sure to hear from former teammates, coaches and teachers. From charity workers and others.
Two years ago, George W. Bush invited Mutombo to a State of the Union address to sit with the first lady and be recognized for his charitable works.
At Toyota Center, he arrived each day by working the hallways, greeting everyone, smiling that amazing smile and laughing that coarse, booming laugh. His African accent was so pronounced and his voice so gravelly that at times it was impossible to know what he was saying. His teammates all tried to imitate him at one time or another, to laugh at him the way he frequently laughed at them.
Locker room presence
Mutombo rejoined the Rockets after midseason this year. General manager Daryl Morey and coach Rick Adelman wanted him because he could help on the defensive end, but they also wanted his locker room presence. They wanted, that big, disarming laugh and that smile to relieve tension that could have ripped the team apart.
"One of the things I'm happiest with is the transformation that has happened inside our locker room," Mutombo told the Chronicle's Jonathan Feigen a few weeks ago. "The joy, the peace, the smiling on the guys' faces are very rewarding to see. That is what made me happy, like I accomplished something."
He's funny, smart, gracious and absolutely committed to leaving the world a better place than he found it. In the end, that part of his legacy, more than the Basketball, will be what made Mutombo so special. All the Basketball did was give him millions of dollars and a large stage.
Mutombo, 42, told reporters he would have surgery to repair the knee and has no intention of playing again. Don't take this promise to the bank. He has attempted retirement before and failed. He was always lured back by the money, the game, the camaraderie and all the rest.
Important things to do
Two decades ago, Mutombo arrived in Washington, D.C., from the Congo with an academic scholarship at Georgetown. He was going to study medicine and return home. He got detoured by Basketball, became a star for the Hoyas, and got degrees in linguistics and diplomacy.
Yet as he made millions, as he became famous for wagging that finger after blocking shots, he never forgot his real priority. He established the Dikembe Mutombo Foundation in 1997 to raise funds to improve life for people in his homeland. He donated $19 million to build a hospital there and $150,000 to help children in South Africa.
"The Congo lost more than 300,000 children last year alone from malaria," Mutombo told Feigen. "The treatment will cost no more than $10. If we can come up with $2 million for treatment, with 100,000 people donating $20, there is a chance for us to really eradicate malaria in that particular area. . . .
"I know it is going to be difficult to stop people from dying, because death is part of our lives," he said. "But to prevent as many deaths as possible, it is up to us to do so. This is something I will do the rest of my life."
Mutombo is old only in Basketball terms. He'll miss the game terribly at first, but he'll end up doing something important and significant with the rest of his life. Professional Basketball will be a poorer place without him, but it was very, very lucky to have had him for 18 seasons.
richard.justice@chron.com
