Without Bias

Director: Kirk Fraser

That Len Bias never played in the NBA is a tragedy.

I was only seven-years-old when Bias died on June 19, 1986 of cardiac arrhythmia induced by a cocaine overdose, but as a basketball fiend up until the time I was 21, I knew all about the former University of Maryland standout.

We never got the chance to find out, but Bias could have been a superstar. Should have been is probably the more correct wording, because I don't think there was much chance that he wouldn't have achieved greatness in the NBA, especially not playing alongside Bird, McHale, "The Chief," DJ, and Ainge at the Garden every night.

It was the perfect situation for a player like Bias to come into — a spot on the defending NBA champions, removing the pressure placed on so many young shoulders to come in and turn around a franchise.

Adding an athletic 6'8" swingman to that squad would have been nasty, and it's a shame that we never got the chance to see it.


It's also a shame that so many people either don't know the story of Len Bias or have stored it away in their memory banks already, because to me, this is the cautionary tale that we need to be telling every kid as they come up — athlete or not.

Nobody thinks those drug commercials that show the clean cut kid devolve into being a junkie is going to happen to them, so it doesn't hit home all that much.

I don't know if Bias was a regular recreational drug user, but all accounts say he wasn't a dope fiend, yet here he was — 22-years-old, celebrating with his friends, having a little taste... and then it was over.

That's the story kids need to hear, and hear again, and again.

This was a guy who had worked hard to make his dreams a reality, and was standing on the precipice of realizing those dreams before his life suddenly ended, changing the lives of hundreds of other people as a result.

We always talk about the people who made it, but being one of those lucky few is a one-in-a-million chance, and even then, nothing is promised.

I used to love all the preps-to-pros kids who brought swagger and energy to the NBA; the one-and-done players who had their brief layover in college because it was what they had to do to get into The Association.

Now that I'm a little bit older, a little bit wiser, and a whole lot farther removed from hanging on to pick-up game pipe dreams of slick handles and no look passes, I miss the days of senior-laden teams making a second or third run through the NCAA tournament.

I miss watching a kid with raw potential develop over his final two or three years of college.

I miss sound fundamentals and an understanding of the game that stretches beyond "I'm faster and more athletic than you."

I miss kids like Len Bias who developed a deadly 18-footer to go along with his athleticism in the paint, tenacity on the glass, and first-rate springs over a four-year career at Maryland.

I also wonder whatever happened to the litany of kids who chased that dream when they probably should have went to or stayed in school. Where did they end up, and would they do it differently if they had the chance to go back in time?

The NBA has become a developmental league, where kids are drafted with an eye on where they'll be two or three years down the line, when they learn what it takes to play an 82 game schedule, and that there half the players in the league were the stars of their team in college, and most of them were monsters in high school too.

We've gotten to a point now with hoops where there is a sense of entitlement — that these kids should be allowed to go to the NBA whenever they want to make their money, but it isn't their money, and they're not entitled to anything.

They haven't earned the millions of dollars that are going to be handed over when they sign their first contracts, and they're sure not going to give it back if they're the next Nikoloz Tskitishvili or Kwame Brown.

It's funny because ten years ago, I hated Stockton to Malone on that prehistoric pick-and-roll as much as the next guy. Now, I want to see it — I miss it.


I still love a big dunk, but I wish JR Smith had a reliable jump shot too or that these guys who can do incredible things on the court could hit a goddamn foul shot.


I proudly love "The Big Fundamental" Tim Duncan — save for his free throw shooting — because it takes more skill to knock down that 15-footer with a kiss off the glass every single time than it does to drive the lane, put up something acrobatic and look for a foul.

The NBA is coming back this season after all, with a new class of first-year players whose lives are about to change, if they haven't already.


Without Bias should be a mandatory part of the rookie diet; here's what can happen — no one is invincible.


Now go work on your foul shots and 15-foot jumper.