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A SUITE HIGH

ABOVE THE

COURT IN DALLAS,

SHAWN BRADLEY

PEERED DOWN ON

A PAST LIFE.

I

N

Under the spotlight below, gangly giants—Kristaps

Porzi ̧ng‘ is, Boban Marjanovi ́c, Bol Bol—galloped and

grinded as their 7' 6" forebear watched, still and silent.

As the 7' 2" Bol used his long arms to swat a shot, Bradley’s

wife, Carrie, fetched him popcorn and nestled a small

Styrofoam bowlful onto his napkin-covered stomach.

The 7' 4" Marjanovi ́c sprinted back on defense and gulped

down air; Bradley started to feel faint and reclined his

electric wheelchair to raise his blood pressure. The 7' 3"

Porzi ̧ng‘ is powered home a two-handed dunk; Bradley

enveloped a can of Dr Pepper in his claw-like hands and

sipped carefully.

On May 20, 2005, Bradley took his last steps on the Mavs’

home court. Retiring at 33, the No. 2 pick in the 1993 NBA

draft never reached the potential his height portended,

although he was a daunting, dependable defender. After

12 pro seasons, he had to confront a life devoid of basket-

ball. On Jan. 20, 2021, at 48, Bradley took his last steps,

period. He’s now confronting a life devoid of so much more.

In the third quarter of that Nov. 15 game at the

American Airlines Center—the first Bradley attended

after being paralyzed from the chest down in a bicycle

accident—Dallas’s vice president of basketball operations,

Michael Finley, visited the suite. Finley and Bradley were

foundational pieces of the team’s early-2000s ascendance,

arriving just before Steve Nash and Dirk Nowitzki, so it

was no surprise that Finley was the first to reach out with

a text when news of the accident became public: Prayers

are with you, big fella.

Time and distance have separated them, but the

warmth between two men who used to drive each other

home after games was still evident, even if Finley’s eyes

betrayed the shock of looking down upon someone who

long towered over him. They talked about their kids and

their former teammates—Bradley was stunned to learn

that the mercurial Josh Howard was now a college coach

at UNT-Dallas—and Carrie insisted upon capturing

the moment with a photo. She carefully obscured the

catheter bag that hangs from Bradley’s wheelchair, and

the friends crammed together to pose...until Bradley

asked her to wait. He pawed at the controls on his right

armrest and, ever so slowly, his chair began to rise. A

mechanical whirring underpinned nervous silence as

the group watched the third-tallest player in NBA his-

tory grow just...a bit...taller. When Bradley and the

6' 7" Finley were finally shoulder to shoulder, Bradley

acceded to the pic and smiled.

His desire to loom as tall as his chair would allow

is understandable. Bradley’s height has long defined

him. It imbued him with confidence. It enabled him,

even at 235 pounds, to become a lottery pick out of BYU.

It helped him to average 2.5 blocks, ninth-most in NBA

history. It pulled every gaze toward him whenever he

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