In riding a horse we borrow freedom — Helen Thompson
I still remember the first time I met Mel Daniels. We were both quite a bit younger, and I took the opportunity to talk to him about his bio and his passion for horses. He was amazed that I knew the names of his two favorite horses (Bo and Sauce), and we spoke at length about everything but basketball.
That was Daniels in a nutshell. Sure, he was the toughest hombre that ever pulled on a Pacers jersey, grabbing more rebounds than any player in the history of the franchise, but he was quite a bit more as a person.
He was the proverbial gentle giant who would often pull his truck over and give clothing and money to someone living on the street. It did not matter to him where you came from and what you had; he could connect with people from all walks of life and mesmerize them with his infectious smile and his booming laugh. I last saw him just two days before his tragic death, at Bankers Life Fieldhouse in the media room named after his good friend Bill York.
He had lost some weight from his recent cardiac surgery, but he was still the beacon of joy that all who knew him personally had become accustomed to over the decades. We conversed about the standing offer he had made to me long ago regarding my desire to ride a horse. He knew I was afraid of the magnificent animals, but he assured me he would provide a tame one for my maiden voyage.
There was only one requirement to ride at his place: Daniels insisted I wear boots instead of “those sissy loafers.” He conceded they did not have to be the expensive custom-made ones he wore, but there would be no exceptions to this rule. I humorously scoffed at that, citing the cost of a pair of boots I would likely only wear once, and it became the prerequisite that kept me from taking him up on his generous offer. I often thought about canvassing the local thrift stores hoping to find a pair that would fit me, and thereby enabling me to fulfill a lifelong dream of mounting up and pretending to be Roy Rogers just for a day, but unfortunately I waited too long, and now the only horseman in the Naismith Basketball Hall Of Fame with three championship rings to his credit is gone, without the opportunity to squash my fear of riding. This I truly regret.
Clearly, I never dreamed the man I watched outplay the ABA’s best in a smoked-filled fairgrounds coliseum would leave this earth, and figured someday I would reluctantly plunk down the money for a pair of boots and make the trek to his spread. Yes, he was a world-class hooper, but family and friends, along with horses, meant more to him than the sport he loved and was so dominant within.
There was also a more surreal side to the man, which was illustrated eloquently by Mark Montieth, a longtime basketball journalist who knew Daniels well. While speaking at the recent memorial service honoring Daniels’ life, Montieth talked about Daniels’ passion for writing poetry, a fact that many Pacer fans knew nothing about. He mentioned one particular poem that chronicled the physical and mental suffering many nursing home residents experience, and how it poignantly described what Daniels saw when visiting people. There was also the poem he wrote to convince Pacer legend Reggie Miller to stay retired from the game of basketball, and as you might imagine, poems illustrating his love for horses. Indeed, not something you would expect from a guy who wreaked havoc on the basketball court every time he laced up his sneakers, but that certainly describes the complexity of his great life.
I still want to ride a horse before I, too, leave this earth, and I regret that Mel Daniels can no longer be my instructor. People often search for ways to honor those they admire, and in addition to making a donation in his name to a summer camp that provides horseback riding experiences for physically challenged children, I think I will put my loafers aside and begin shopping for some boots.
Something tells me that would make Daniels laugh, and right now we all need to hear him do that one more time.
Danny Bridges, who will really miss Mel Daniels shaking his head as he looked at my shoes, can be reached at (317) 370-8447 or at Bridgeshd@aol.com.
Danny Bridges is an award-winning journalist and a longtime sports columnist for the Indianapolis Recorder. He covers college, professional sports and especially all things IndyCar racing. He can be reached at 317-370-8447 or at bridgeshd@aol.com.
