Role of a Lifetime

by James Brown

  One example given during the seminar was of a video clip of Larry Bird, a white player, making a play that was described by the announcers working the game at the time in terms of “smart,” “savvy,” and “heads-up.” They spoke of the thought process behind the play and how quickly he processed the play as it unfolded.

  They then showed a highlight of Magic Johnson, a black player, making the same play, and his play was characterized by the announcers in physical terms, in terms of “strength,” “agility,” and “athleticism.” It was instructive for all of us, because many of us announcing can fall into those same thought patterns as well, and continue to perpetuate an unfortunate stereotype.

  One of the participants with me in the seminar was Tommy Heinsohn, the former Celtics great. Tommy and I had a wonderfully open and honest conversation afterward, as Tommy admitted that he didn’t understand the big deal that was being made of the announcers’ descriptors. “Help me understand, JB. That was an amazingly athletic play that Magic Johnson made. Incredible body control. Why is that bad to say that?”

  “It’s not,” I told him. “You’re absolutely right, except that you—or anyone—has to be even in their treatment of the two players. If calling it ‘athletically amazing’ is a compliment, then why would you shortchange Larry Bird when making the same play by simply saying he was ‘smart’? Wouldn’t he also want—and deserve—to be called ‘amazingly athletic’?”

  Tommy, to his credit, understood it. And my time with Tommy is characteristic of what I would hope we could all accomplish if we sat down together and talked. Openly, civilly, respectfully, wanting to understand, and without anger.

  There is power in that kind of communication. Bridge-building power.

  There is nothing wrong with recognizing and celebrating our differences. We all have different gifts—every joint supplies. But we need to make certain that we’re celebrating them—not differentiating between each other—because of them.

  We still have a ways to go. We’ve come a long way for sure. And together we will get there for a better tomorrow.

  CHAPTER 9

  MY DOROTHY

  A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies.

  Proverbs 31:10 (NIV)

  I met Dorothy Johnson when I was working at Channel 9, shortly after my poorly handled move from Channel 7. I was a longtime bachelor, often dating, but not very seriously, and certainly set in my bachelor ways. One of the reasons that I was slow to get serious was that I wanted my daughter from a previous relationship, Katrina, to be involved in the process. And I was very comfortable in my bachelor role, at least for then.

  Therefore, we took it slowly, Dorothy and I. At the time we met, I had what I felt was a crush on someone else, a co-worker at the local CBS affiliate in Washington, DC. I went down to her floor to ask her out, and she made me aware that she was engaged to be married to one of the marketing executives, another friend of mine. That bit of news ended the crush. However, she did tell me that she and her fiancé had a friend that I just had to meet.

  Great.

  I’d been down the whole “you’ve got to meet my friend” route before, so I didn’t show much interest. I told them that if we could work it out sometime, that would be great. I’d be happy to meet her. We tried to double-date a few times, but the timing never worked out. Finally, they invited me to their wedding that summer, saying that their friend, Dorothy, would be home from college and would be there and I could meet her in the midst of the other people who would be attending their wedding, without any pressure on either of us. I agreed, but actually skipped the wedding—I didn’t want to look like I wanted to get married—and headed, instead, straight to the reception. The wedding party was late in making their appearance—I waited about two hours at the reception with the other guests—and so I eventually left without meeting her.

  Dorothy and I chatted several times by phone when she was back in school at Hunter College in New York City. We were discussing what would be a mutually convenient time to try and finally meet. That would happen on Thanksgiving weekend, when Dorothy would be home in northern Virginia for the holidays. She agreed to meet me at the TV station after the late newscast. When I got word she had arrived at the station, I sent one of the sports department interns down to the lobby to greet her and to give me an advance scouting report. He came back just as I was going on the air, but gave me a two-thumbs-up, and I raced through the news that night to get out of the studio and meet her. That evening, I discovered that not only was she very pretty, but more importantly, she was a very nice lady and I found myself enjoying her company. I found out she had been born in Kitzingen, in what was then West Germany, when her father was stationed there in the U.S. Army, and from there the family moved to Fort Meade, Maryland, when she was thirteen.

  From the outset of our budding relationship, we tried to be realistic about the physical distance between us—she was in New York in school, while I was in DC. That distance could make things more difficult than they might otherwise be, but we both thought it was worth giving it a try. We agreed that if things got too difficult, or if one of us wanted to see other people, that we would just be straightforward about our feelings and let the other person know.

  And so sometime not too long thereafter, she fired me. That’s what I called it, anyway. She was very kind when she called, but said that it was just too difficult to date long distance. It just wasn’t going to work. Thankfully, a short time later, she called me back. She realized the error of her earlier decision, and our relationship was back on.

  The fact that I was working college basketball games for CBS Sports had me traveling to New York City fairly frequently, helping our relationship tremendously. At one point in our long-distance journey together, Dorothy was in Virginia visiting with her parents and decided to cook for me one evening. She was preparing goulash. That first dish she prepared for me really underscored how much I wanted the relationship. She was very proud of her goulash dish, and I of course couldn’t wait to try it. It was horrendous. I plastered the biggest possible grin on my face that I could muster, and told her it was great. I even asked for seconds. That didn’t bode well for our future together, however, as I was so spoiled by my mother that I hadn’t learned how to cook, either. If this relationship was going to continue to get serious, something had to change, if for no other reason than our mutual survival.

  Over time our relationship became more serious and reached a point where I felt I was finally ready to propose to Dorothy. However, I knew I needed to talk to Katrina about it first. Katrina had spent a great deal of time with Dorothy during the times Dorothy and I had spent together in DC. I told her of my decision, and as we talked, she asked me if she said that she didn’t want me to marry Dorothy, whether it would make my difference in my decision. As it turned out, she was jerking my chain, and said, “How could somebody not like Dorothy? Of course I’d love for you to marry Dorothy.”

  And so, after we had been together for several years of dating, we became engaged. There wasn’t much change until another several years passed, and we finally set a date— January 1, 1994. That’s when the tension really began to set in, at least for me. I had been a bachelor for so long that I was starting to sweat bullets with the prospects of all of that changing. I was having second thoughts—that had nothing to do with Dorothy. She was wonderful. It was me. I didn’t know anything else but my bachelor lifestyle. Of course, that lifestyle was all about—me. I had no one else to worry about in my personal life—but me—and of course, my daughter. Decisions regarding what I wanted to do or places I wanted to go—were about me. I was seeing the end of all of that, and I’m sorry to have to admit, I wasn’t sure I could, or wanted to, give it up.

  As the date drew closer, there were so many “voices in my head” about what this commitment meant, comprehending what this lifestyle would entail and the like: bottom line is, I got cold feet. My way of dealing with it was absolutely a coward’s way. Wh
ile in Los Angeles on assignment I called Dorothy on the telephone a week before the wedding and said to her that I love you, but I couldn’t go through with the wedding.

  Dorothy was as composed as ever, and very clear in her response that was along the lines of, “James, I appreciate your honesty, and you have to do what you feel in your heart. But, will you kindly do me a favor, please don’t ever call me again.” I said okay. From that point forward, for the next few weeks, I don’t remember a thing. Time stood still. It’s all blank.

  I was not in a good place.

  I was lethargic for weeks thereafter. Three months later, I was still in terrible shape. I missed Dorothy to the point of hurting deep in my soul. I was an emotional wreck when I discussed how I was feeling with one of the ministers in our church, Tony Jefferson, telling him that I had made a dreadful mistake. He already knew everyone at church knew and all were certain that I had made a dreadful mistake, including my mother and the rest of my family. (In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that they were secretly plotting to get Dorothy into the family and me out, if I hadn’t come to my senses.)

  Dorothy and I had each spoken with our pastor Clarence Givens separately, and he was excellent at giving each of us counsel based on the Word of God. He did not take sides or point fingers of blame, but rather gave us each a chance to speak with him and share what was in our hearts. I still have a vivid recollection of him looking at me when I finished and saying, “She’s very beautiful on the outside. But James, she’s even more beautiful on the inside, a Godly woman.”

  Shortly thereafter, and about eight months after our wedding was to have originally occurred, I called her one day in that fall of 1994 and told her of the mistake that I had made. She made it clear that she was not willing to go back to dating. Either I knew what I wanted or I didn’t. I assured her that I did. She accepted my second proposal, and we proceeded to set the wedding date—December 1.

  There was a period of adjustment though, which we both went through. The patterns of my life had become so ingrained by the reality of being a longtime bachelor that it was a struggle for me at times to learn to think of myself as part of a couple. Dorothy was very patient with me as we grew together spiritually and as husband and wife. But there is one thing that has occurred that is surprising. I can barely make any decisions on my own as it relates to what I wear for business or formal occasions. I thought I was a pretty good dresser, but apparently that was in my own mind! I’ve learned it is better to get her input on the “front end” of a choice—something I would assume most husbands know.

  I don’t think that I suddenly was any worse at picking my clothes or that she was any more difficult about my selections, I just think I wasn’t nearly as aware of—or concerned about—things like that when I was single as I am now. I would always dress nicely, but I didn’t have the immediate feedback if something wasn’t just right. As a result, after a period of her feedback as to some of my selections, I’ve become almost paralyzed in trying to select what I should wear.

  I will sometimes lay out a suit before I get into the shower, along with my dress shirt, shoes, and tie. Inevitably I will come out, Dorothy will be nowhere in sight, and the tie will be different. I will wear the tie she’s chosen, and without fail, at least once that day, someone will say, “Hey—great tie!” So, therefore I’ve pretty much given up on dressing myself. After all, Dorothy was a fashion merchandising major in college—duh!

  Dorothy has been a wonderful soul mate. My only regret about our marriage is that I didn’t meet her and marry her earlier. She reminds me of Ruth in the Bible, because she is so obedient and faithful in her daily walk with the Lord, and so loyal and loving with me. Her biggest challenge with me and my lifestyle, she says, is that I allow myself to get too busy. Some of our nicest times have been when we’ve vacationed, at our favorite place in the Bahamas—Great Exuma—or at a friend’s waterfront home near Chincoteague, Virginia. Those times seem to soothe my soul and allow me to disconnect from the busyness of my world, and just enjoy my time alone with her. When we’re in town, I’m still trying to learn to do a better job to just stop every now and then and reflect on things—to slow down and enjoy simple moments, time with her and my family, all the daily joys of life. It’s a process for me—but I’m getting better.

  She likes to tell the story of our ninth anniversary. I returned home late from broadcasting in Los Angeles, and she decided that she wanted to create a romantic mood, and welcome me home with a path of rose petals, beginning at the front door all the way to our bedroom.

  She heard the door open, and awaited my arrival, knowing that I would rush up the stairs. Seconds turned into minutes. No James in the doorway. Finally, she came to the top of the stairs, and saw me stooped over, with broom in hand sweeping up the rose petals!

  “What are you doing?”

  “Hey, Sweetie. I just got in and found that somebody dropped flower petals all over the floor, and I didn’t want you to have to worry about cleaning them up.” Oh, well… talk about being too busy to smell the roses!

  I’m so bad around the house that using a dustpan is one of the only things that I can do. I can’t cook, and I’m not very good with my hands as a handyman. When I was young, my parents had asked me to put in a glass shower door, including caulking it—I’ve blocked out whatever else was involved. I did a terrible job, and from that point forward when something similar came up that needed attention, my family was quick to say, “James isn’t very good with his hands,” and would send me instead to go wax the floors. Again.

  Dorothy also claims that my mother turned me into a very high maintenance individual, and I think she’s right. My mom would even fix my plate when I ate at her house. Dorothy grew close to my mother, a development for which I am so grateful. For us, our experience was the exact opposite to many stories that we hear about how one spouse or the other feels about in-laws. Dorothy and Mom spoke by telephone nearly every day, and many days we went to my Mom’s house to spend time with her and soak up all the wisdom she had. That occurred every Sunday in my offseason as we went to Mom’s house for dinner. Even during her last years, battling health issues, Mom would have a feast for the family to enjoy on Sundays, reminiscent of the scenes from the movie Soul Food—where Mom, the matriarch, expected everyone to show up, enjoy good food and fellowship, and hear her thoughts on whatever was going on in our family, and dispense her advice, whether we asked for it or not!

  At the same time, she gave us our distance and let us live our lives as husband and wife; yet we both cherished the fact that Mom was always around as a sounding board. She would sometimes mediate as to something Dorothy and I had going on, but only if asked. Both of us valued her opinion.

  The only problem for me was that despite me being a mama’s boy, she never took sides, at least in my favor. If anything, her initial assumption was that Dorothy was right and that I was messing up. If I was wrong she had no compunction about telling me pointedly that I was wrong. She would always open the Bible and start to ask me pointed questions: “Are you honoring your wife?” “Are you showing her respect?”

  Now that Mom has passed we have continued to read the Bible and pray together, and to grow together through Bible study sessions we attend every Wednesday at our church which help to strengthen our understanding of how relationships are to work, reinforcing the Scripture, how can two walk together lest they be agreed (see Amos 3:3).

  I’m thrilled I’m not a bachelor any longer.

  CHAPTER 10

  THE RIGHT WAY…

  Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you.

  Romans 12:3 (NIV)

  During the time I was dating Dorothy, following my disappointment with not becoming the lead play-by-play announcer for college basketball or the studio host for March Madness, I still stayed on with CBS. I was even more determined to continue to push ahead, certain t
hat I would end up wherever God wanted me. In the meantime, I reminded myself that God had me where He wanted me now. It was important to me that I embraced that and realized that He knew my future. My responsibility was to do the best I could for two reasons: I owed it to the people and the task at hand; and God would use it to prepare me for wherever He wanted me, and whatever He had next for me to do.

  And so, I remained true to what I was doing, and tried my best to remain patient. I was still working NFL games as a play-by-play announcer at CBS, with a broadcast partner by the name of John Robinson, the former head coach of the University of Southern California and the Los Angeles Rams.

  One week, we were in Atlanta to do a game for the Falcons, and Coach suggested we go shopping at a store where athletes would go whenever in Atlanta, Friedman’s, where they could find the latest shoe fashions in larger sizes. I hadn’t fully made a total transition to conservative attire—at times I still liked to dress with the panache I thought I showed at Harvard. So Coach Robinson and I decided to visit Friedman’s. After a quick review of what they had to offer, he held up a pair of shoes.

  “JB, you have got to buy these.” I protested. They were, after all, lime green, snakeskin shoes. I pointed out that he wasn’t buying a pair. “Of course not, those are totally you. Not me. Those are perfect for you.”

  I couldn’t recognize at that moment that I was being played. “Coach, I have nothing to wear with lime green, snakeskin dress shoes.”