I first heard the news when I got off work at 5 p.m. A report I heard on the radio indicated that Wright's body was found just across the street from the entrance to TPC Southwind near Hacks Cross and Winchester. I realized that I was very close to that area, so I decided to go to the scene. I didn't know why I decided to go, really. I knew it would be a major news story and I wanted to be there to cover it. But there was more to it than that. I felt I had to go; Lorenzen was such a powerful figure on and off the court and my devotion to the Tigers, Grizzlies and the city of Memphis made the loss that much more devestating. Most of all, however, I wanted to get peoples' reactions. I was deeply saddened by the tragedy and wanted to hear people echo what I felt. Echo they did.
I arrived on the scene at about 5:15, just as a crowd was beginning to swell. Traffic police directed traffic on Hacks Cross since the right lane was blocked by dozens of parked cars. I too parked my car and walked toward the wooded area via Callis Cutoff Road. Dozens of people around me were doing the same. The first person I saw was another Tiger and NBA great, Penny Hardaway. I had always seen him smiling, but he was anything but that yesterday afternoon. I approached him and simply asked for his thoughts. He informed me that he had just learned about the body and was shocked at the news. "There's this unbelievable feeling that you have in your gut," he said, searching for words to explain the inexplicable. "It's shocking and sad at the same time." Although sunglasses hid his eyes, his body language told the whole story. His shoulders slumped, making him seem much shorter than his 6'-7". He was visibly choked up and kept shaking his head, searching for answers for a "senseless tragedy."
After talking with Penny, I sought out Geoff Calkins, a longtime Commercial Appeal columnist. Geoff covered Lorenzen many times throughout his career and couldn't have been more impressed with him. "He was the nicest, most upbeat guy in the locker room," Calkins said. "This is just a terrible tragedy." Like Hardaway, Calkins' body language said even more. His voice was hollow and he wore an abject frown on his sunken face.By 5:45, the crowd at the scene had grown to 250. Yellow police tape and a barricade of squad cars kept the crowd at a 50-yard distance from the woods. 12-15 uniformed officers stood by their cars, but they weren't forced to hold people back from the area where the body was found. Nobody wanted to see. Nobody wanted to believe that Lorenzen Wright was really gone.
It is still too early to tell how exactly Wright went missing and how his body ended up in the woods behind the intersection of Hacks Cross and Callis Cutoff Road. What is known, however, is that a 911 call was placed from Wright's cell phone early in the morning on July 19. The call was dropped, but not before multiple gunshots could be heard. The 911 operator tried to call back, but no one answered. Police did eventually confirm that the body was in fact Wright's and that he had been shot multiple times. The number of shots has not been released, but many reports indicate that Wright was shot at least a dozen times. As the investigation into his death continues, more details will surely become available.
In talking with Hardaway, Calkins and others that knew Lorenzen, a common thread emerged: his love and pride for the city of Memphis. His presence on the basketball court has been well documented, sure, but the attitude at the scene was not one of "we lost an athlete." Rather, it was "we lost a Memphian." Hardaway expounded on Lorenzen's passion for Memphis: "he was a city icon. He did a lot for this city that people didn't know about." Calkins echoed Hardaway: "He was really proud to be a Memphian." The stories about Lorenzen's love for Memphis could fill a book. Grizzlies fans will recall how he beamed with pride when he was selected to model the Memphis Grizzly uniforms at the team's first press conference. Tiger fans will remember how he adored playing for his hometown team and relished the chance to represent Memphis. When Lorenzen was traded to the Grizzlies in 2001, he called it "a dream come true." In the woods behind an apartment complex, however, that dream manifested into a nightmare.
Another common sentiment shared by those that knew Lorenzen was his upbeat, positive outlook on life. His financial and marital troubles were significant: two of his houses were forclosed and he divorced his high school sweetheart last year. More than that, his young daughter Sierra died in 2003, one month before her first birthday. Despite all of those struggles, Lorenzen remained gregarious and outgoing. "No matter what Lorenzen was going through, that didn't make him who he was," said Hardaway. "He always stayed positive." Radio commentators spoke about how the Grizzlies locker room, under coach Hubie Brown especially, was very close knit and that Lorenzen was the emotional leader of those teams. "He was much more than just an athlete," one commentator noted. "He was a truly great person who loved life and loved his family."
If his love for basketball and for Memphis was big, his love for his family surpassed everything else. He had six children and cared for them deeply. This whole investigation was started because Lorenzen hadn't spoken to his kids in days, something that never happened. He spent time with them regularly and always called to talk if he couldn't be with them. A picture he posted on his Twitter page two weeks ago shows him with his kids at a hibachi restaurant, beaming with pride. When with his family, Lorenzen was truly happy.
By 6 o'clock, I had spoken with enough people to get a good sense of the effect Lorenzen's death was having on those gathered at the scene. Who would commit such a heinous crime?, people wondered. Why did this have to happen to Lorenzen? How could such a great person end up like this? Similar questions were asked by everyone and, sadly no one had any answers.
As I was walking back to my car, I called Lafayette Williams, the manager at Chings Hot Wings, a restaurant popular with the Memphis athletic community. I asked him if he had heard the news and he said he had, that it was unbelievably tragic. He said that, although he did not know Loreznen well, he had met him a few times. "He was such a nice guy who cared so much for this city. It's just sad to see him go." He then told a heartbreaking story. "Lorenzen actually came into Chings a couple weeks ago," Lafayette said. "I told him 'Ren, I want to get a picture of you to put on the wall, but I know you're busy and I don't want to bother you. I'll get it next time.' Now, there won't be a next time."
Rest in peace, Lorenzen. You will be missed,
Owen
Joking aside, I would like to buy this pen and have a vote for what to do with it. Should I A) use it to write a letter to Michael Heisley telling him how horribly he runs his team, B) blow it up, a-la the "Steve Bartman" ball, in hopes that doing so would rid the team of its notoriously bad luck? In my opinion, those are really the only two rational choices.