It’s good to see my Phoenix Suns doing so well. I wondered how they would do against a team with a legitimate big man, but the other night, they trounced Shaq and the Miami Heat. Don’t know what’s particularly different this year. Steve Nash is certainly a good addition, and Amare Stoudamire has blossomed into a huge presence. But beyond that, it’s pretty much the same team as last year. But this year, they’ve got the best record in the West.

I spent my freshman and sophomore years of high school in Lake Havasu City, Ariz., kind of a resort town on the California border. Every fall, the Suns came to Havasu for a week to practice in our gym. During PE, we got to watch them. The star, the person we all pointed out to each other, was Connie Hawkins. He could palm a basketball like it was a softball, and had a lightning spin move. They also had Dick Van Arsdale, Paul Silas, Clem Haskins, and two hulking centers, Neal Walk and Walt Wesley. Cotton Fitzsimmons was the coach the first year they came, in 1971.

One year, the week ended with an exhibition game against, I think it was, the Houston Rockets. The Suns won. Every time Connie Hawkins got the ball, we held our breath, expecting something wondrous to happen.

I played freshman and JV basketball in Havasu. During my freshman year, the varsity won the state championship. In our class. Class basketball was a stupid thing in Arizona. The closest school to us was 40 miles away in Needles…California. Kingman, the nearest Arizona school–60 miles–was in a different class. We would travel all the way to Phoenix, three hours away, to play schools in our conference. Ridiculous. But our varsity did win state, led by a sharp-shooting all-state guard and our 6’3″ center (yes, our tallest player was just six-foot-three).

Soon after my sophomore year ended, we learned that a group of college students were coming to town to do street evangelism. It was a Campus Crusade thing. Several members of my youth group joined them. This was in the Jesus People days, a multi-year revival movement which transformed our school–and me. Kids were coming to Christ regularly. Christian leaders today seem reluctant to talk about the Jesus Movement as a revival movement, maybe because it involved so many long-haired hippy types who were definitely non-establishment in those days. But believe me, it was a real supernatural thing.

Before hitting the street, we all gathered to talk about what we would be doing and to pray. I was surprised to see two persons from my high school who had graduated the year before and had just completed their first year of college. Bart had been king of the party animal crowd, a real life-of-the-party type. Somewhere, somehow, he had become a zealous Christian. At his side was someone who was never at his side during high school–Doug, a clean-cut, straight-A starting forward on the state championship basketball team. Doug had found Christ, too.

We fanned out across the city. I remember seeing Bart in a cafe booth witnessing fervently with someone, with Doug quietly listening. Bart was on fire. I hope he still is. We moved to California a few months later, and I’ve not heard of Doug or Bart since. But it was neat seeing, in 1973, that God had reached down and touched those two very different lives.