Matt Steinmetz

You know B.J. Armstrong as a three-time NBA Champion with the Chicago Bulls – the guard who played with Michael Jordan during that 1990s run. You know who I’m talking about: Jordan’s teammate who looked like he was 12-years-old, had this baby-faced grin and, was lucky enough to get to play with Jordan, Pippen, Kukoc, etc.

B.J. Armstrong knew how to play, and he took advantage of what he did best about as well as anyone I’ve been around. He was smart and reliable, made all the big shots that ever mattered, and knew what he had to excel at: knocking down open jumpers, playing conscientious defense, and being the ultimate professional.

Armstrong had three championship rings by the time he was 27. During those years, Armstrong was at his best … humble and earnest, honest and respectful, just a multitude of positive adjectives. But like I said, that was B.J. Armstrong at his best.

I saw B.J. Armstrong at his worst. 

I saw him the year after that third title, when the Bulls’ left him off their expansion roster, and he wound up in Golden State. He found himself in a mess of a situation with a new coach and first-year GM. It was the year after Don Nelson and Chris Webber, figuratively, blew up the organization. The Warriors went 36-46 that season, and missed the playoffs. They would get worse down the line.

Armstrong was brought into Golden State that year to be a leader and example for a young team. He was also brought in so the veterans could get a real up-close look-see at an NBA champion.

But like I said, I was covering the team back then, and I saw B.J. Armstrong at his worst.

And he was the exact same person in Golden State that he was in Chicago. B.J. Amstrong was one of the earliest players I got to cover, and he taught me so much about the NBA. He was a pillar of class at the start of what would become maybe the most chaotic and disorganized runs the NBA ever saw.

The details of what made and makes B.J. Armstrong a special man, hopefully, will come down the line. But this guy pretty much took me under his wing at a time when I “didn’t even know what I didn’t know,” as Mike Montgomery once said. Armstrong is the essence of a pro’s pro.

Here’s to B.J. Armstrong. He’s one of the names that always comes to mind when I hear the word “Class.”

East Coast meet West Coast …

I’d like to introduce you to James Dailey, a player I met out here in the Bay Area that I only wish could have played with and against Roz, Bobby Ford, Jeremiah Williams, Mike and Dave DeCusatis, Curt Conrad, Dave Stafford, Alfie Rossignoli, Doug Blessing, Eric Key, Gary Minngia, Roger Yoh, and, what the hell … Al Sobotor and even John Stott. All you all.

You would have liked and respected James’ game. By the way, J.D. is still alive, and very much doing well here in Oakland CA. Just wanted to clarify because when I wrote about Bobby Hollinger the other day Dennis Westley thought Bobby died.

J.D. is a guy I met out here in Oakland, late 1990s, which put me in my mid-30s at the time. I was still playing pickup basketball back then but J.D. had no idea when I first met him. James is 6-foot-5, was about 30 years old at the time, and was still in pretty good shape.

We found out we had basketball in common, and because I’d just moved to Oakland from San Francisco, I was looking for pickup games. Big James smirked when I told him I was looking to play, but he invited me to Club One in downtown Oakland. My guy didn’t think I could play, plain and simple.

That began a terrific relationship between J.D. and I, both on the court and off. The power forward and the point guard both knew how to play, is how I’ll put it. We won a lot of games at Club One.

You Back-Easters would have really liked and respected the hell out of J.D’s game. J.D. was legit … grew up here in the Oakland/East Bay area and played against all the big boys out here before high school, during high school, in 

college and after. Yeah … that means Gary Payton, Jason Kidd, though JK was younger, the legendary Hook Mitchell, Antonio Davis, Greg Foster, Brian Shaw, J.R. Rider … that group. Pretty good, huh?

J.D. started out at Laramie Community College in Wyoming, then finished his college career at Division I St. Mary’s, where he led the team in scoring as a senior. J.D never shot the 3-ball in college, but the second he left school, he began stretching his game.

In his prime, J.D. could do it all. He could post you up, he could step out and make 3-pointers, and when the situation called for it he could tenaciously defend on the interior. Oh, man would he and Steve Rossignoli have had some battles … I’m telling you!

Here’s to James Dailey, a player with Oakland pedigree and a Division I game!

I don’t know which was prettier: Paul Harter or his jump shot.

Who was Paul Harter? Well, let me tell you two things about Paul Harter: there’s what I remember about him as a player/persona and what I remember about him as someone I’ve talked about and thought about for almost 40 years.

First off, Paul Harter was a hell of a player. He was a 6-foot-3 shooting guard who could get stuff off the dribble or catch-and-shoot … kind of whatever he wanted. He was one of the greatest perimeter shooters Reading/Berks has ever seen, and any mythical 3-point shooting contest among the greatest shooters in that area must include him.

And, yes, I know, there wasn’t a 3-point shot when Paul Harter played. That’s my point. He had that kind of range. He was like a white Ray Allen … at least that’s the way I remember him from back then in the mid- to late 1970s at Wyomissing High School.

And here’s the other thing about Paul Harter: He was good-looking, I mean, really good looking, and the kind of guy who everyone knew was good looking. You know how they say … “every cheerleader on the squad would have a crush on Paul?” It was more than that. Let me tell you who had a crush on Paul Harter. Every cheerleader in Paul’s class at Wyomissing; any cheerleader who wasn’t in Paul’s class at Wyomissing but was older or younger; every cheerleader at every high school in the county where Paul played; every cheerleader whose team ever played against Wyomissing and Paul Harter; every mom who ever came to the game, and hell, any gal who ever held a pom-pom.

All right, enough about that. But, damn, I e-mailed my mom about a detail or two about Paul Harter and she replied: “He was gorgeous.”

He was also really good at hoops. Paul Harter received a full ride to La Salle University, where he received a free education and played four seasons. He is, was and always will be someone who received a Division I basketball scholarship. And that makes you legit in any league. So what if he didn’t get a ton of playing time?

It’s a question that countless players ask themselves: Would you rather play at a Division II or III school or sit on the bench at a Division I school? I would have gone the Paul Harter route. But I never got a scholarship … and I never had Paul Harter’s looks, either!

Here’s to Paul Harter! Make a list of all the Berks/Reading players who were Division I, and it’s a small, small percentage of athletes. Paul Harter: Division I.