Walton's Fused Foot Fixes Future Of No Hoops

AUBURN HILLS, Mich. - He limped into the Palace yesterday on crutches. Bill Walton on crutches is not news. For Walton, crutches have been his appendages for too much of his adult life.

He found a comfortable chair near courtside, but far from the crowd of reporters asking the usual between-game questions of the Detroit Pistons and Portland Trail Blazers.

It has been 13 years since Walton was the center of attention for the Trail Blazers in their only previous run to the NBA championship. They have been 13 pain-filled years. There have been preciously few days since Portland beat the Philadelphia 76ers that Walton hasn't lived with stabbing pain in his feet. He has lost count of his surgeries. A conservative guess would be 30.

``I've purposely forgotten,'' Walton said. ``Lloyd's of London or the Prudential Insurance people could tell you. They're the ones who keep score.''

Walton is here as part of CBS' ``At the Half'' crew. The show's sponsor is Prudential, a marriage prompting Walton to joke, ``I'm doing this in exchange for the coverage.''

But the pain is no laughing matter. Walton had the surgery to end all surgeries March 15 - ankle fusion. His right ankle will be locked in a permanent position. He will never play basketball again. He will never run again. His goals are to be able to walk and to wake each morning without pain.

``The pain went away two or three weeks ago, and I've been smiling and laughing ever since,'' he said.

``I'm just hoping this pain-free situation continues. I'll never be able to play again, but I do believe I will be able to walk without crutches.''

He may have been the best center to play the game. He could thread passes through crowds. His hands were magnets for rebounds. His shooting touch was as soft as snow. He could run the court like a deer. And he played the game with passion and intellect.

But his ankles and his feet hated the game. They rebelled against the constant jumping. They buckled under the pounding. They changed Walton's life.

``My immediate goal is to get my health back and recover from the many surgeries I've had over the past three years. Try to get back on my feet,'' Walton said.

``It's been a long, difficult struggle. Hopefully, except for the rehabilitation I have to do, it's over now.''

The longer Walton talked yesterday, the more reporters moved across the floor to listen. It was a familiar sight. Bill Walton, a pair of crutches leaning on the seat next to him, sitting in front of reporters, talking about a recent surgery.

Once he said he wanted to play the game into his 40s. His ankles and his feet never gave him the chance.

``I had no choice with this surgery,'' Walton said. ``I could not walk. Nobody wants to have a joint fused, but I had to have the surgery.''

He has been in bed for most of the past four months, in a cast from ankle to hip. In Portland, most of his troubles were with his left foot and ankle. The troubles with the right foot, which led to the fusion, flared in Boston in 1986, when Walton helped the Celtics to a title. Maybe he sacrificed a foot for a second championship ring.

``I don't know if I did. I really don't know,'' he said. ``I'm very, very happy that I got the chance to be on another championship team. It's always nice to win championships. My only regret is that I won only two. I wanted to play a lot more, but you can't really look back. You've got to go forward.''

These June championship games are the games Walton thirsted to play. His joy in 1986 was evident. He said then that he felt as if he had been given a stay of execution, a second chance at a title. He savored every minute of that series. He didn't realize those minutes would be his last.

``I'd do anything to be able to play basketball again,'' he said ``But you can't be bitter. I have too many good memories. I've made too many good friends. You can always look back and wish you could have been better. You can wish everything could be better. But this is the way it is.''

He is left with his memories; those moments 13 years ago when another young team from Portland upset the 76ers and won the Northwest's first NBA title.

``Our team and this team really aren't comparable at all,'' Walton said. ``We aren't really similar, except that we're both from Portland and supported by some of the world's greatest basketball fans. Blazermania still lives.

``Our team relied more on speed and quickness, while this team relies a lot on size and strength. We had better low-post offense. We were a lot smaller. We only had two or three guys who could dunk it.

``We relied on creative passing to set up the second, or third, or fourth guy on the team. This team relies more on one-on-one. I'm not knocking that. It's just that we didn't really have one-on-one players.

``We didn't have the outside shooting that these guys have. We were always trying to get layups. Plus we relied on the fast-break opportunities that were created by our guards.''

Walton, 37, is divorced, a single parent raising four boys, ages 14, 12, 10 and 8. He is promoting a two-day golf tournament starting June 30 in Las Vegas that will benefit NBA old-timers who aren't eligible for the league's bounteous pension plan. He is involved in a computer business.

He seems happy. He has accepted his fate. But Bill Walton never will grab another rebound and spin with his elbows out protecting the ball. He will never spot another streaking guard and hit him with a pinpoint outlet pass.

He will never play basketball again. And there is no surgery for that pain.