I May Be Wrong But I Doubt It - Charles Barkley [30]
Early in my career in Philadelphia, the 76ers owner Harold Katz questioned whether Andrew Toney’s feet were really injured. Andrew had missed some time and was really struggling with his feet, and everybody was expressing an opinion as to why he was missing games. And Philadelphia is not the kind of place where you can just shrug off that kind of criticism and ridicule. I need to point out that this was happening in the mid-1980s, before MRI tests were around, or at least before they were commonly used. Team physicians had to read X-rays, and stress fractures apparently didn’t show up on X-rays. But because he was made to feel like he had to play, Andrew tried to play. And he shouldn’t have been playing at all, not at all, not even a little bit. A couple of years later, as new medical technology was put to use, the doctors found Andrew had all kinds of stress fractures in his feet. The guy was injured. I felt guilty for thinking at times that he wasn’t injured as seriously as he really was. I think about it now because Andrew Toney was probably the best player in his prime that I played with. Doc and Moses had already had their best years by then, but Andrew was just coming into his prime when I got to Philly in the fall of 1984.
My very first practice, there’s Toney shooting jumpers, and he’s in the process of making something like fifty straight shots. I called my friends after practice and said, “This guy, Andrew Toney, may be the best shooter I’ve ever seen.” It was unbelievable the way he shot. Man, we could have done some damage together. He was just a tough old southern dude. (He’s also the one who got me started playing golf.) And he wasn’t the kind of guy who would ever complain, so it was hard to know exactly when he was in pain or how much pain he was in.
But one night, I’m sitting on the bench next to him. And you know how close guys are sitting next to each other on a bench. I was moving around and accidentally kicked his feet and tears literally came to his eyes. I saw that and I thought, “My God, there must be something seriously wrong with this man’s feet.”
I never had anything quite like that. But I know the cumulative effect is going to be serious. I hurt my back the first time when I was playing in Philly. And I would have back problems the rest of my career. I know my body’s going to be shot when I get older. A lot of my friends are pro athletes and their bodies are going to be shot, too. I go to these charity events and all the legends are limping around so badly. Right now, when I play golf with John Elway and Dan Marino, we’ve got the same ex-athlete walk and we’re just forty years old. The way we’re moving now, I look at the legends and I know that’s going to be me in a few years. That’s the biggest negative about playing professional sports. People ask me about being approached in public and signing autographs and being asked to do so many things. And while that might inconvenience you and consume your time, it doesn’t take a toll on your health. But you make your peace with it by simply saying, “This is the price you have to pay to play.” Your last two, three or four years, it’s hard just getting out of bed in the morning. Past thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four years old, it’s a struggle and I don’t care who you are. Hakeem Olajuwon, Patrick Ewing, John Stockton . . . I don’t like to see them struggling. People say it’s amazing that John and Karl can still play like that at forty, and that’s true. But these