Long after he dominated for his beloved Bruins, Bill Walton never stopped making UCLA feel special

The text messages about Bill Walton’s latest on-air absurdity pinged the UCLA basketball staffer’s cellphone with only a few minutes left in the game.

It wasn’t what the broadcaster was saying that was as remarkable as what he was singing … and who he was serenading.

The staffer.

“Happy birthday, dear Alex,” Walton warbled on ESPN late in the Bruins’ victory over California in January 2017.

The idea to give Alex Timiraos, the team’s athletic communications director, a birthday shout-out had been raised at the morning shootaround. Never one to seek attention, Timiraos asked the television crew not to do it.

“I said, ‘No, no, no, guys, please don’t,’ ” Timiraos said. “ ‘You don’t need to include me in the broadcast.’ Of course, they did.”

Walton and fellow broadcaster Dave Pasch used the segue of legendary Bruin center Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s No. 33 jersey to mention that Timiraos had just turned 33.

“Alex is 33?” Walton asked on the air. “He looks like he’s 19. Alex has been here for 10 years. Phenomenal to see the young people grow up, the sports information directors who are incalculably invaluable to us in our jobs. Thank you, Alex. Happy birthday.”

Walton then launched into a few bars of the birthday ballad before the camera panned to Timiraos sitting courtside.

Decades after leading UCLA to two national titles in his three college seasons as one of the most dominant centers to ever play the game, Walton remained an outsized presence in the lives of those around the program. Ask almost any usher, broadcaster, staffer, player or coach about the “Big Redhead” who died in May at 71 and you’ll hear some appropriately wacky story about how he touched their lives.

At shootarounds, Walton would point to everyone affiliated with the team and say their name as if making a mental Rolodex, going from one assistant coach to the next and on down the line.

There’s Darren Savino!

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There’s Rod Palmer!

There’s Nate Georgeton!

“He really did seem to care,” Timiraos said, “about the people who made the program run.”

Walton’s inclusive approach could make the giant void left behind feel even more inescapable Sunday afternoon inside Pauley Pavilion during the school’s tribute to one of its greatest players and quirkiest personalities.

Before playing Ohio State, the Bruins will wear tie-dye warmup shirts in a nod to the preferred fashion choice of the player who won his first 73 games at the school while leading it to the 1972 and 1973 national titles. UCLA’s jerseys will feature blue-and-gold “BW 32” shoulder straps bearing his number.

Lori Walton, Bill’s wife, will be the honorary captain. Other family members will join her on the court at halftime for a celebration of Bill’s life that includes video tributes to the player who went on to win NBA titles with the Portland Trail Blazers in 1977 and the Boston Celtics in 1986 before being inducted into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame.

Nine months after he succumbed to a lengthy battle with cancer, Walton will finally get a public send-off.

“The tribute will be like our funeral,” UCLA coach Mick Cronin said, “because he didn’t want a celebration of life and you have to respect people’s wishes.”

Perhaps no other Bruin celebrated life quite like Walton. Lingering at Cronin’s Encino home deep into the night after most everyone else had departed a basketball alumni barbecue in the summer of 2019, not long after Cronin had taken the UCLA job, Walton even helped with the cleanup.

Several months later, sitting in the corner of an office inside the Pac-12 headquarters in San Francisco, Walton recalled the menu for the event as only he could.

“He had lots of appetizers, lots of water, a beautiful, warm home and an inviting atmosphere and then he had all kinds of really good food — chicken, ribs, potatoes, vegetables, salad, corn,” Walton said. “Did I say potatoes too? And all the things I like, which summarizes my experience with Mick Cronin. I’ve been most impressed.”

There was reciprocal admiration between the celebrated Bruin and his successors. Sophomore center Aday Mara, whose personality leans toward the lighthearted, said he enjoyed Walton’s joking nature tinged with helpful tidbits.

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“I felt like we could talk for hours,” Mara said. “One of the things that he was saying to me was to be patient because most of the time, big men have a slower development than smaller players. So just be patient and enjoy every day.”

Junior point guard Dylan Andrews remembered Walton recognizing him during a pregame breakfast at the Luskin Center on campus before Andrews’ home debut as a freshman.

“He called me by my name,” Andrews said, “and I was just so surprised and I was like, ‘You know who I am?’ and he was like, ‘Man, yeah, you’re a phenomenal player’ and he told me to be great.”

Practically everywhere he looked, Walton found someone to highlight. During one crosstown rivalry game he called between UCLA and USC, Walton mentioned fellow Helix High graduates Chris Carlson (a Bruins associate athletic director who oversees basketball) and Eric Mobley (a USC assistant coach) as the camera found each of them inside the arena.

“He’s like, “Helix Highlanders, we’re everywhere!’ ” Carlson said, “and he was very prideful about his neighborhood and where he came from, which was always kind of neat because then I would get a flood of texts and calls like, ‘Bill mentioned you last night!’ ”

Sometimes Walton knew when to keep quiet. After learning that Cronin’s father, Hep, experienced a medical emergency the day before UCLA faced Villanova in a nationally televised showdown at Pauley Pavilion, Walton did not mention it to anyone.

“Most guys would have said, ‘Oh, yeah, Hep’s in the hospital next door,’ ” Hep said. “Him? Not a word. I appreciated it because I didn’t want to divert from the game.”

Always leading the way, Walton secured A1 boarding passes for Southwest Airlines flights from his home in San Diego to Portland, Ore., to broadcast UCLA games against Oregon and Oregon State. Whenever he was on the same flight with Josh Lewin, the Bruins’ play-by-play radio voice, Walton would tell the gate agents that Lewin needed to board with him, never mind that Lewin often had a C27 boarding pass that was supposed to consign him to being one of the last to board.

Read more: Letters to Sports: Bill Walton was one of the greatest human beings

After ambling to his preferred seat in the aisle of the emergency exit row, the 6-foot-11 Walton would ask the 5-6 Lewin to sit next to him, proceeding to say nothing about himself.

“He would pepper me with questions about me and my little life, which is nothing,” Lewin said. “All I wanted to do was ask him about his life, but instead he was so curious about everybody and everything else around him.”

On the occasions when they chose the same rental car company, Walton always insisted that Lewin go first to get his vehicle, once again elevating those around him.

“He was basically taller than 99.9% of the people he came in contact with,” Lewin said, “but every single person he did have contact with would leave feeling like they were his height and that was what made him so special.”

Walton also showed appreciation for the rare 7-footer. On the night that the Denver Nuggets selected UCLA center Thomas Welsh late in the second round of the 2018 NBA draft, Walton requested Welsh’s number from Timiraos so that he could personally congratulate him.

“He was so touched,” Timiraos said of Welsh, “that Bill Walton called.”

During one of his last visits to Pauley Pavilion, Walton arrived long before tipoff so that he could show a friend the exhibits on the concourse dedicated to coach John Wooden.

Spotting the familiar face outside the arena, veteran usher Peter Lee waved him inside.

“Come on in, Big Bill,” Lee told Walton before kidding him about the special chair he used to support his lanky frame on broadcasts.

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As a matter of habit after games, as they were leaving the arena, Walton and Tracy Murray, the Bruins’ color analyst on radio broadcasts, would enjoy the same exchange.

“I love you, Bill,” Murray would say.

“I love you, Tracy,” Walton would respond.

They were the moments that have made every trip to Pauley Pavilion this season feel like reopening an old wound.

“I miss that,” Murray said of the goodbyes. “Because you never think it’s going to be the last time.”

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This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.