By New Times
By Connor Radnovich
By Robrt L. Pela and Amy Silverman
By Ray Stern
By Keegan Hamilton
By Matthew Hendley
By Monica Alonzo
By Monica Alonzo
An hour before the game started, Richard Dumas was out on the court, chewing gum and blowing gingerly on his hands to warm them up. He was always one of the first players out of the dressing room.
His hair was cut very short. His eyes always seemed so wide open. It was as though he was astonished to be in America West Arena as a member of the Phoenix Suns, then the hottest team in the National Basketball Association.
He had reason to doubt his good fortune. Dumas' adult years had been full of trouble that was of his own making. No matter where he went, his basketball skills made him welcome. But after a while, his drug problems prompted team officials to request that he leave.
Dumas was six feet seven inches tall, but he moved more quickly than players much smaller. He possessed so much natural grace. When Dumas took jumpers from outside, his accuracy was high. When he drove to the hoop to stuff the ball, he was as smooth as glass. Sometimes, after a particularly good move, Dumas would allow himself to smile.
Cedric Ceballos would be there on the floor, too. He moved slowly in warm-up, like a big cat. Another who came early was the player they called "Big Daddy," better known as Mark West. Most of the time, he stood under the basket and threw the ball back out for the shooters.
So was Frank Johnson. He was a mere six feet tall and seemed to have muscles on muscles. Watching Johnson warm up was almost an education in pregame preparation. "Fourth-Quarter Frank," as the radio announcers called him, was already in his mid-30s. He was hanging on because he knew so much more about the game than any of the kids.
He was also Charles Barkley's friend and running mate. When it came time for someone to tell Charles he was out of line, it was Frank Johnson who did the job. And when Frank talked, Charles listened. Frank was like another coach on the floor. His value to the team was much greater than his scoring average.
Jerrod Mustaf was another you could count on to be early, too. Mustaf was six feet ten inches tall and could run the floor and rebound. Mustaf reached the Suns in a complicated deal that saw Xavier McDaniel, a big-time player, go to the New York Knicks. Mustaf had potential. But he was always in hot water. His girlfriend died mysteriously. He hurt his hand in a car-door accident and didn't show up for work. He was making big money. He wasn't producing and showed no sign that he cared.
But Dumas was playing at that time for the minimum $140,000 per year, and wherever he went, he drew attention. The first time he stepped onto the court, it was against the Los Angeles Lakers, and he was guarded by A.C. Green.
Dumas faked Green and dribbled right around him to the basket and put the ball in the hole. It was a sweet move. Players in the NBA don't often succeed in making moves like that against players of A.C.'s caliber.
Within weeks, Dumas was being compared to Julius Erving and Connie Hawkins, two of the game's all-time great players. That wasn't because Dumas was boastful. He rarely talked about himself. In his own mind, Dumas was under a cloud because he had a drug problem.
It was drugs that had forced him to leave Oklahoma State after only two years. Then he missed his first season with the Suns after testing positive for drugs and was suspended. Dumas went to Israel to play, but the Gulf War shut down the pro league in which he was playing.
He went on to play in the CBA, a minor basketball league, awaiting his chance. He had been through drug rehabilitation. He was ready.
And then, after watching Dumas play, Colangelo became enthusiastic, too.
Dumas arrived at just the right time. It was Barkley's first year in a Suns uniform. Almost everything went right.
Do you remember the last time Dumas got significant playing time? You have a short memory if you can forget his performance in the fifth game of the 1993 NBA Finals against the Chicago Bulls.
With Scottie Pippen guarding him, Dumas made 12 of 14 shots and finished with 25 points in a game that kept the Suns' chances alive for that fateful sixth game here at America West Arena.
His whole game was coming together. And everyone thought his life was, too.
But it was in Chicago that the reports started coming in that Dumas was seen drinking by himself in a bar near the team's hotel. He was off the track again. Not too many months later, Dumas was back in drug rehabilitation. He had turned himself in.