Sunday, July 29, 2007

Marvin Zindler: Another Reason Houston Ain’t Dallas (Yet)

He’s gone and of course you can say one thing without fear of contradiction: We won’t see his like again. He was sure enough from another time, before everything got so brainlessly serious and money-slick.

He was Jerry Lee Lewis’s lost cousin. He did some good, too.

We used to see him at Rockets games back in the early ’80s, in that post-Calvin-and-Rudy dry stretch when you could buy a decent scalped ticket out front for $2 or $3. People went nuts when he’d amble in to The Summit to take his seat, which we don’t recall as being at courtside but rather up a ways and almost behind one of the baskets. Black people always seemed to get a special buzz from Marvin, a phenomenon we’ll leave to black people to explain.

When our oldest child was real little he saw Marvin with his wife buying a large bag of dog food at the Wal-Mart that later became the privately run alternative school for hardened children. Our son talked about the sighting quite often then and says he remembers it to this day.

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