Linfielder Greg Crawford quoted in story about basketball star
In the Oregonian 5/27/2022 story posted below, Linfielder Greg Crawford (Class of 1972) described as a “former local radio and television personality who is an aficionado on basketball in Oregon” is quoted extensively. He talks about the late Freeman Williams (see photo), who played men’s basketball 1971-1978 for Portland State University. Crawford, who lives in the Portland area, was Linfield men’s basketball manager for the 1968-1969, 1969-1970 and 1970-1971 teams. In his senior year, 1971-1972, Ted Wilson, head men’s basketball coach, impressed with Crawford’s knowledge, made Crawford the team’s advance scout.
Crawford is shown in a photo here with Erik Spolestra, head coach of the NBA Miami Heat and a grad of Beaverton’s Jesuit High School and the University of Portland.
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Vikings: Placing Portland State basketball legend Freeman Williams’ career in proper perspective: ‘He was an icon’
By Aaron Fentress, Oregonian, 5/27/2022
They gathered for a meal at a Southwest Portland restaurant to reconnect, talk about the past, and most of all, reflect on the career and personality of Portland State basketball legend Freeman Williams, who died at the age of 65 last month of bone cancer.
Four former teammates and their late coach’s son told stories a few weeks ago of Williams’ on-court exploits — the good, the sublime and the bad — and reveled in his talent and persona as a shining star at a mid-major basketball program tucked away in plain sight, but often overlooked in downtown Portland.
That reality made it easy to overlook Williams’ dizzying scoring numbers, especially for those who weren’t around to witness his performances in the late 1970s that earned him a place on the All-America team with the likes of Larry Bird and Magic Johnson.
No highlight videos exist on YouTube. Finding photos of Williams playing at PSU is also a chore. Perhaps the strongest archival log of his career is a four-inch-thick scrapbook filled with newspaper clippings, box scores, photos and game programs owned by former teammate Derreck Brooks.
It’s a shame because Williams wasn’t merely a Vikings legend. By any measure, Williams should be recognized as one of the greatest college basketball players ever to come out of the state. Right up there with former NBA All-Stars in Oregon State’s Gary Payton and Oregon’s Terrell Brandon.
Williams’ 3,249 career points rank second all-time behind only LSU’s Pete Maravich (3,667). He reached those scoring heights before the NCAA universally implemented the three-point line in 1986. Given that many of Williams’ deep jumpers came from NBA three-point distances, his point totals in college would have gone up tremendously, even without changing his style of play, had he operated during the three-point era.
Evaluating Williams’ overall legacy in the state’s history comes down to a few factors. First, did the level of competition he faced matter? Secondly, were his scoring numbers padded because he could shoot at will against competition inferior to that found in major conferences? And, was his overall impact in Oregon basketball lore limited by playing in an 1,800-seat gym rather than a basketball arena?
For those who saw him play and played with him, Williams’ greatness cannot be challenged, especially in Portland State lore. For former PSU quarterback great Neil Lomax, there is no debate in this area.
“Everyone always says, ‘Neil Lomax’ and ‘June Jones’ are the face of Portland State athletics,” Lomax said. “No, no, no. It’s Freeman Williams. He was an icon.”
WILLIAMS TO PSU
Williams had major-college talent but went overlooked by such programs. That made him the type of player PSU coach Ken Edwards hoped to reel in.
Edwards’ recruiting strategy — limited by an $800 budget — included sending handwritten letters to the top 20 scorers in Los Angeles in hopes that some would bite. He did so even without having seen many of them play.
“If they can play in L.A., they can play,” Ken Edwards would tell his son, Greg Edwards, a ball boy for the team who went on to coach high school basketball and run camps in the Portland-Vancouver area.
Brooks, another overlooked talent, also fit that bill. Brooks, from Fremont High in Los Angeles, and Williams, who attended Manual Arts, were friendly rivals who squared off several times in high school.
When Williams got his shot going, Brooks said, he would look to close the distance between them.
“Each time I would step out another five feet, and he would move five feet back and still hit the shot,” Brooks said.
After one meeting, Brooks said he left the game feeling that he had done a decent job defending Williams, only to learn that he had scored 37 points.
“I was like, ‘What?’” Brooks said. “I was pissed! But he was a good shooter even then.”
In 1973, Brooks and point guard Chucky Smith, Williams’ high school teammate, went to Portland State after not receiving offers from UCLA, USC and the like.
“People would say, ‘Why are you going up there?’” Brooks said. “I’d say, ‘John Wooden isn’t calling me. I’m going to go where I can play.’”
Both Brooks and Smith played right away and helped lure Williams to Portland.
“The whole idea was that we were going to start a tradition,” Brooks said. “Freeman came and it was a different dynamic.”
The 6-foot-3 Williams averaged 16.8 points as a freshman, taking 16.7 shots per game. That proved to be just the beginning.
“I didn’t really know how good I was until I arrived at Portland State,” Williams said in the documentary “Inner City Champions.”
As a sophomore, Williams took 28.9 shots per game and averaged 30.9 points per contest.
“He kind of took over,” Brooks said.
As a junior, he put up 38.8 points per game, which ranks sixth all-time in NCAA history. His average of 35.9 the following season ranks 15th. He led the nation both seasons and received third-team All-America status as a junior in 1977 and second-team honors as a senior in 1978.
The Williams show proved to be electric and often led to a packed house on the Park Blocks. So much so that at times, the fire marshal issued occupancy warnings.
Greg Crawford, a former local radio and television personality who is an aficionado on basketball in Oregon, said he saw every home game that Williams played.
“I’m not quite sure we ever knew what we had here,” Crawford said. “He was pretty spectacular. In a lot of cities, he would have been a box office phenom. But he wasn’t here.”
“WILLIAMS FROM THE PARKING LOT”
Greg Edwards recalled a game in which he sat on the bench folding towels when Williams walked over and sat down beside him.
“Little Edwards, that’s a golden arm right there,” Williams said, pointing to his right arm as he let it swing.
“Yeah,” Edwards recalled saying, “you can shoot.” From anywhere past halfcourt.
Williams had no conscience in discerning between a good shot and a bad shot. For Williams, if he could see the basket and get off the shot, it was a good shot.
Lomax was a freshman at Portland State in 1977 and played in the football team’s famed offense that produced wild passing numbers with its run-and-shoot offense. The basketball team was the equivalent on the basket court, Lomax said.
“My memories were of just going to watch him light it up,” Lomax said. “They were a fun team to watch. Running up and down the court. They were run-and-shoot basketball. Flying around.”
Lomax remembers many on the football team scurrying over to the arena to watch Williams play.
“We would get done with practice, or a game, or winter workouts, get dinner and then go watch him play if they had a home game,” Lomax said. “And that place would be packed. You had to go to the games. It was the biggest thing on campus to go watch him play.”
But Lomax missed the night when Williams scored 81 points against Rocky Mountain on Feb. 3, 1978. According to Brooks, Williams had about 40 at halftime and coach Ken Edwards wanted the team to help him go for as many points as possible.
That night, the game began with a relatively small crowd at home. But as word spread around campus that Williams was putting on a show, the crowd swelled.
“Even though we blew them out, the crowd got bigger as the game went on,” former PSU center Bob Sisul said. “By the end of the game, people were standing and watching. They came onto the court afterward. It was like we had won the NCAA title or something. It was amazing.”
Williams’ deep shots brought the fans to their feet.
“We didn’t have a logo on the court, but he would be taking shots from where the logo would have been,” Lomax said.
Former PSU center Mike Richardson recalled a shot that Williams hit just inside halfcourt with three defenders on him. When it went in, Richardson recalled the public address announcer saying: “Freeman Williams from the parking lot.”
“The fact that he made those shots encouraged him to take those shots,” Richardson said.
Williams’ abilities couldn’t be ignored. However, his gaudy statistics could be questioned given the competition. Was Williams truly that great or was he merely very good because he could take as many shots as he wanted against inferior competition?
Such an argument could be made while favoring the likes of Payton and Brandon. How many points could they have scored while playing at PSU rather than in the Pac-12?
Williams’ teammates say such arguments are nonsense because Williams also put up strong numbers against major powers. In fact, six of his top 41 scoring games came against major college programs:
• 49 at USC, Jan. 20, 1978
• 39 vs. Oregon State, Dec. 16, 1976
• 39 vs. Kentucky, Dec. 16, 1977
• 38 at Oregon State, Dec. 5, 1975
• 36 at Arizona State, Jan. 4, 1977
• 35 at Arizona, Jan. 27, 1976
“The tough games were when he came out,” Sisul said.
TEAMMATE ENVY
Williams made good use of the shots that he took, and he took as many as he wanted.
“He had the super green light,” former PSU guard Terence Burns said.
But that also raised the question: Did teammates ever complain that Williams shot too often?
“Yeah,” Brooks said without hesitation.
“To me, it wasn’t the ideal situation, because you had one person scoring and we had other guys who could do stuff,” Brooks said. “But those are coach’s decisions.”
Brooks recalled a game when Williams went 19 of 49 from the field. Brooks’ argument was that he could score a lot of points if given that many shots. Probably so. But would he, or anyone else on the team, have matched Williams’ scoring output?
Coach Edwards’ answer was no.
Greg Edwards said his father would tell players that he didn’t believe they could get off 45 good shots, let alone make enough to match Williams’ point production.
As a shooter, Williams was freakishly good for that era. Greg Edwards said the slick-shooting guard could have averaged 45 or 50 points with the three-point line.
“Now it’s used as a weapon and it’s emphasized, and now people play outside-in when before they played inside-out,” Edwards said. “Freeman played like Steph Curry and Klay Thompson, those kinds of players. That’s what Freeman was.”
Williams didn’t rely solely on his outside marksmanship. He also used his speed, quickness and leaping ability to create shot opportunities that others couldn’t generate. For that reason, Crawford said he believed Williams deserved the green light Edwards afforded him.
“I could see why people became irritated, but he was just so good,” Crawford said. “It was incredible. He could score from three feet or 30 feet.”
Several teammates acknowledged just how creative and talented Williams could be.
“They always talk about how good of a shooter Freeman was,” Sisul said. “But he was very, very athletic. He had to get himself open for those shots. And every team we played, every arena we went into, they would put their best defensive player or two on Freeman to stop him. They don’t just let you shoot the ball like that. You have to work for most of those shots.”
When defenders got too close, Williams could drive the lane and score.
“He could go dunk on you, too,” Burns said.
Said Crawford: “I loved the way he could drive to the hoop, too. It seemed like he was cutting through butter.”
Sisul, PSU’s career leader in rebounds (767), believed Williams would have been a dynamic wide receiver or defensive back in football.
Lomax agreed.
“If he was one of my receivers, he’s catching 12, 13 balls per game,” Lomax said. “He was such a great athlete.”
The big men simply had to accept that their roles were to set screens for Williams, grab rebounds and then get the ball to Williams.
“That’s how you stayed on the floor,” Sisul said.
Richardson said that, as a center, he knew he wouldn’t get the ball on offense. But that was OK.
“The thing is, nobody could say that it was a mistake to let Freeman shoot the ball,” Richardson said. “He hit so many incredible shots that you couldn’t believe.”
Other positions also simply had to accept that Williams was the centerpiece of the offense.
“He didn’t pass the ball, but he didn’t miss many shots, either,” Brooks said.
Williams was big man on campus but carried himself with humility. But he and his roommates did like to throw a good party.
“We got kicked out of every apartment building we lived in,” Brooks said.
Then one apartment owner offered them a house to live in where they could make as much noise as they wanted. And they did. Their house was the place to be. And Williams never acted as if he were better than anyone.
“He had a good heart and he had a big laugh,” Sisul said. “And if you were in the room, you were smiling. And he was very charismatic. He just had that aura about him.”
That presence also resonated on the court.
“If you didn’t know who Freeman Williams was before the game started, you could tell just because of the way he handled himself,” Sisul said. “It was amazing. Just the confidence that he had when he stepped on the court.”
Williams did have a nasty streak on the court. Burns, who prepped at Portland’s Benson High School, recalled being encouraged to go hard at Williams in practice but also beware that he could become volatile.
“He might punch you,” Burns said.
But most of all, Williams was a relatively humble man who enjoyed his ice cream. Richardson recalled that whenever he drove Williams home after a practice or a game, he would want to stop for ice cream along the way.
“He was a good guy, basically,” Brooks said.
FLEETING NBA SUCCESS
The Boston Celtics looked past Williams’ college address and selected him at No. 8 during the 1978 NBA draft.
Only eight college players from the state of Oregon have ever been drafted at No. 8 or higher, with just four coming since 1970.
Oregon has had 14 first-round picks but just three drafted No. 8 or higher: Greg Ballard (No. 4, 1977), Jim Barnett
(No. 8, 1966) and Jim Loscutoff (No. 4, 1955).
The University of Portland produced Ray Scott, selected fourth overall during the 1961 draft.
Crawford mentioned Payton, Oregon State’s A.C. Green, Brandon and Stan Love as the best he ever watched play, along with Williams.
“I would say he’s got to be right up there, one, two or three with anyone that’s ever played here as far as collegiate players,” Crawford said.
For Crawford, the greatest validation of Williams’ talent came during his short stint in the NBA.
“I heard some people say, ‘He didn’t play tough competition,’” Crawford said of Williams’ college career. “But look at what he did in the pros.”
Williams had the potential to put together a stellar career. He averaged 18.6 points per game during his second season (1979-80) as a reserve playing just 25.8 minutes per game. He played 24.1 minutes per game in his third season and produced 19.3 points per game.
He scored 51 points at Phoenix on Jan. 19, 1980.
Former NBA guard John Lucas II, who later would help Williams overcome drug addiction, played against the PSU star. Lucas said most NBA players didn’t know much about Williams because of his mid-major beginnings. But he proved right away that he could play in the NBA.
“He could always go right and he could always score,” said Lucas, an assistant coach with the Houston Rockets.
Williams once scored 30 points on Lucas and the Golden State Warriors on Dec. 5, 1981.
“He was a walking bucket,” Lucas joked.
Williams’ professional career never truly took off, however. Stardom never materialized.
After his playing days ended during the 1985-86 season, Williams began having problems with drugs and alcohol.
“It was like I lost everything,” Williams said in the Inner City Champions documentary.
Richardson said he believed based on conversations with Williams that moving from city to city prevented him from establishing roots and that led to him getting involved with the wrong crowd.
After his NBA career, Williams enrolled in the John Lucas Clinic in Houston.
“John Lucas was instrumental in getting him off of drugs and trying to keep him off,” Richardson said. “And Freeman listened to him. He respected Lucas and Lucas was a mentor to him.”
Lucas, who also went through recovery, said Williams entered his recovery program around 2000. He wasn’t doing well at all. Lucas said the NBA reached out to him to help Williams.
“People don’t come see me on a winning streak,” Lucas said.
The two bonded and became friends during that time. Lucas said Williams did well in the program and maintained his sobriety for years afterward.
“He had a good spirit about him,” Lucas said.
GONE TOO SOON
Williams’ life became bumpy from then on. He would disappear for spurts. He had a small role in the 1992 hit movie, “White Men Can’t Jump,” as a fictional playground basketball legend named Duck Johnson.
Richardson recalled Williams being around and giving his daughter, Melissa, basketball pointers while she played at Lake Oswego High School. He even showed up at a game to cheer her on.
Burns told of a man who
maintained his competitive edge but had also developed a temper. Williams played on a recreational league team Burns ran. At times, he would challenge opponents to fights. Burns ultimately kicked him off of the team because his competitiveness made him too volatile.
On another occasion, Williams went to Burns’ home in Washougal, Washington, just to help paint a white picket fence. Williams took his time, Burns said, enjoying being outdoors and doing some work for a friend.
“He just wanted something to do,” Burns said.
Williams’ teammates learned of his death in various ways. A phone call. Text message. Facebook post. In each case, the news seemed surreal.
“It’s a bitter pill to swallow because he was young,” Brooks said.
Gathering together to talk about their fallen teammate brought laughter tinged with sadness. They recalled when he began having health problems years ago. But they had heard recently he had been doing much better.
Now he is gone.
The reality stings, but his former teammates carry the memories and the knowledge that they played with one of the all-time greats in Oregon history.
“I love him,” Burns said, “and admire him to this day.”
