Nothing came easy for Uncle Cliffy, but he did enjoy the last laugh

By Ken Davis

The night of the 1989 NBA Draft is forever etched in my mind. It was one of the most uncomfortable nights of my sportswriting career and I remember every difficult, painful moment as if they happened yesterday.

At the same time, it may have been one of the most inspirational moments I ever covered. It was the start of something truly special, a basketball story of personal redemption. We just didn’t know it at the time

More than anything else, I can still hear the words Cliff Robinson spoke that night.

Billed as a certain first-round pick, the 6-foot-10 power forward from the University of Connecticut slipped into the second round before the Portland Trail Blazers selected him with the 36th pick overall. Robinson left the Felt Forum at New York’s Madison Square Garden before his name was called. He walked out at 10 p.m., after the Detroit Pistons took Kenny Battle of Illinois with the final pick of the first round. Robinson stood up and made his exit. He had waited 2 hours, 15 minutes after Sacramento made Pervis Ellison the first pick.

A group of Connecticut writers had traveled to the Garden to chronicle this significant moment in history for the UConn program and for a young man who had overcome so much in his basketball career and his personal life. it was supposed to be a moment of unbridled joy and happiness. We ran down a hallway in pursuit of Robinson, knowing the last thing he wanted to do was speak to the UConn beat writers.

But he stopped and shared his emotions. Robinson tried to conceal his disappointment, but that was understandably impossible He could have waved us off and stormed away. No one would have blamed him. Instead the brief encounter may have symbolized the evolution of a college kid growing into a man who had just been swallowed up by the cruel business reality  of professional sports.

“I’m disappointed, but it’s no big deal,” Robinson told us. “I wanted to go in the first round. That’s what I worked so hard for.

“I’m just going to wait for my opportunity and prove them wrong. I’m going to work until I drop And when I do prove them wrong, I’m going to ask them, ‘How do you like me now?’ ”

When Robinson left the building, 27 picks had passed and not one team had taken a chance on the big man who, at the time, was the fourth-leading scorer in UConn history. That was their loss. Robinson, who played most of his career with a chip on his shoulder, had the last laugh. He was able to ask that question over and over as he became an NBA great.

None of those teams ever had a good answer because Uncle Cliffy definitely proved them wrong.

The sad news of Robinson’s death came Saturday morning. Robinson at his home in Portland, Ore. He was 53. Saturday evening the Robinson family issued a statement saying the cause of death was lymphoma.

Once again, the UConn basketball family was thrust into sadness and grief. Earlier this summer, former Husky Stanley Robinson died at 32. Cliff Robinson became the third player from the 1988 NIT championship team to pass away. Heart disease took Jeff King at age 31. Robert “Spider” Ursery died from Hodgkins disease at 44 in 2008.

Robinson played in the NBA from 1989-2007 with Portland, Phoenix, Detroit, Golden State and New Jersey. The Trail Blazers advanced to the NBA Finals in 1990 and 1992. He was the NBA’s Sixth Man of the Year in 1993 and was named an All-Star in 1994. In 2000 and 2002 he was named to the NBA All-Defensive second team. His 19,951 points scored ranks 54th in NBA history and his 1,380 games played ranks 14th. He played an additional 141 playoff games.

Robinson was the definition of durability and played 461 games in a row at the start of his career. That’s  a Portland franchise record.

Robinson was honored by the NBA before the start of Saturday’s playoff games.

Former UConn All-American and NBA star Donyell Marshall, now coach at Central Connecticut, expressed his sadness on Twitter Saturday.

“I’m so glad it’s raining today,” Marshall wrote.” I’m gonna need it to hide my tears. Not my big bro man. Uncle Cliffy taught me all I needed to know to be a stretch 4 in the NBA. UConn family has lost another great one. RIP Uncle Cliffy.”

Cliff was part of the first UConn team I covered during my 20-year tenure at The Hartford Courant. He was a freshman on the 1985-86 squad that turned out to be the finals season for Dom Perno as UConn’s coach. Robinson came to UConn from Riverside High School in Buffalo. Former UConn assistant coach Howie Dickenman, who had been an assistant at Canisius from 1977-82 before joining Perno’s staff, did the digging that led to the successful recruitment of the talented big man.

I don’t know this for a fact but you can assume spicy Buffalo wings played a role in that deal. Those popular appetizers were something Dickenman brought with him from his days in the snowy, frigid territory of New York State. In the end, Robinson’s decision came down to UConn and Oklahoma. Syracuse and Marquette were also involved. But Dickenman, one of college basketball’s great recruiters, got the signature on the UConn letter of intent.

And Robinson helped set the stage for the magical Calhoun Era at UConn.

“I don’t remember Cliff ever missing a game or even a practice because of an injury,” Dickenman said in a release Saturday from the UConn athletic department. “He was strong and powerful, the kind of player who could take over a game.”

Robinson did that many times during his UConn career. He averaged 5.6 points and 3.1 rebonds as a freshman. Under Calhoun and Dickenman, who worked with the UConn big men and engrained them with the work ethic he had demonstrated as a player at Central Connecticut, Robinson blossomed. In his senior season of 1988-89, he averaged 20 points and 7.4 rebounds.

With that, Robinson became the first great player under Calhoun at UConn. But once again, the Hall of Fame coach has experienced the sadness of losing one of his former players. From Northeastern’s Reggie Lewis to Robinson, grief has become a sidebar to Calhoun’s coaching career.

“He had a lot to do with the great success we’ve had,” Calhoun said in the UConn statement.”I hope everybody realizes the contributions that he and the others from that era made to our program.”

During his UConn career, Robinson could seem moody and defiant. He played with a scowl on his face.Things never came easy for him, but no one ever questioned his desire and his ability to work hard and improve himself. Calhoun said Robinson had slipped into a coma last week after several years of health problems. That is such a sad thing to consider.

Over the years, there was a transformation, perhaps brought about by his success in the NBA. Robinson was full of energy and personality, traits that were praised in a statement released by the Trail Blazers.

“…his contributions on the court were unmistakable, helping the Trail Blazers into the playoffs each of his eight seasons with the team,” the statement said. “We extend our heartfelt condolences to Cliff’s family and loved ones. Uncle Cliffy will be greatly missed by the Trail Blazers and all of ’Rip City.’”

Just before the start of the 1988-89 season, Robinson and I shared a rather unique moment. The college preview section at the Courant included a prominent feature on Robinson. After helping to the Huskies to the 1988 NIT championship, Robinson returned with the hope that UConn could finally return to the NCAA Tournament. That didn’t happen until 1990 but Robinson was the big man on campus heading into his senior year.

One of the memories that came flooding back to me Saturday was a photo shoot we did for that preseason story. I remember pulling up to the old Field House in Storrs and Robinson carefully sliding into the passenger seat of my Buick Regal. His knees bumped against the dashboard and he looked uncomfortable. That discomfort became even more visible as he posed for the photographs.

We took Rte. 195 – or Storrs Road as it is known on campus – past the old Dairy Bar and pulled off the road. With a wooden fence and the rolling green hills of the historic UConn agricultural farmland in the background, Robinson tried to put himself at ease for the photos. We traveled on to Horsebarn Hill Road to capture the quintessential UConn background. All the time, students and others were passing by in their cars, honking, waving and shouting out to Cliff.

This was not the type of environment he enjoyed. He squirmed a bit and didn’t seem himself. I said everything I could to relax him. Eventually that unmistakable Uncle Cliffy grin spread across his face. There was no doubt he was relieved when the publicity event was over.

Fortunately we saw that smile many more times when he returned to Connecticut for the semi-annual Jim Calhoun Charity Classic All-Star Game. Like all the other alumni from the Calhoun era, Robinson enjoyed being reunited with his basketball brothers. He returned as an NBA All-Star and clearly a stellar member of the all-time Husky roster. As the UConn statement noted, Robinson was ” a two-time Big East All-Conference pick and was named to the 1988 NIT All-Tournament Team. His “00” jersey number hangs on the wall of Gampel Pavilion as a member of the initial class of the Huskies of Honor.”

“Cliff had a very tough early life, but overcame it and became a man at UConn,” Calhoun said Saturday. “People ask me why I’ve coached for so long and the reason is stories like Cliff’s. My heart goes out to his family.”

After hearing the news of Robinson’s death Saturday, the first person I thought of was former UConn guard Phil Gamble. Robinson and Gamble shared every experience during their four years together in Storrs. The joy of the NIT title came one year after one of the most difficult times in program history. They arrived at UConn together. They left UConn together. Their legacy included academic difficulties that changed the course of athletics at UConn.

“It’s like they are one person and one name,” Calhoun said for a story that ran in the March 10, 1989 edition of the Courant.

The headline on that story read ‘CliffandPhil . . . PhilandCliff.” The drop head was “Robinson and Gamble forever linked with dramatic changes at UConn.”

So many of today’s UConn fans might not even be aware of what happened. Their contribution may be lost on those who only witnessed so many Big East and national championships. But their sacrifice should never be forgotten.

This is one paragraph from that story: “Gamble and Robinson watched as the off-court troubles of senior Earl Kelley overshadowed their freshman season. They saw Dom Perno walk away from the UConn coaching job after the season and they’ve been part of Calhoun’s effort to resurrect the program. They listened as a task force committee uncovered the problems of the athletic department, then they became symbols of UConn’s failure when both were declared academically ineligible halfway through their sophomore seasons. They witnessed a transition of power when Todd Turner replaced John Toner as athletic director after their sophomore season.”

Another difficult day came when both lost their eligibility midway through their sophomore seasons. Everybody saw it coming, but it was a seismic event nonetheless. Both players stood tall that day, allowing reporters into the UConn locker room to talk about their disappointment. UConn finished that season 9-19. Calhoun borrowed players from the soccer and baseball teams just to get through his first season. But Robinson and Gamble battled back to regain their eligibility and then sparked the stunning reversal that led to the NIT championship.

“You could hear people mumbling about us on campus,” Gamble said in that article. “They were saying things like, ‘Oh well, if they come back, they come back.’ I don’t think they were expecting us to come back.”

When they arrived in Storrs in 1985, Robinson was neither charming nor endearing. Gamble was shy and scared.

“I didn’t talk to people because I didn’t know them,” Robinson said. “And to tell you the truth, I really didn’t care to know them. I was just looking our for myself and basketball. . . . I was a mean person. I was liable to go off on people at any minute, just because they were looking at me too long.”

Gamble met Robinson at an AAU tournament in Sharon, Pa., during their senior years in high school. Dickenman pointed to a big forward carrying a boom box on his shoulder.

“That’s Cliff Robinson,” Dickenman told Gamble.

“We just came together,” Gamble said. “It was like we were buddies already.”

There were great times and tough times for them at UConn. They were so competitive that they even got into a fight during a pickup game. Gamble grabbed a rebound and suddenly they were hacking away at each other. Gamble threw an elbow to Robinson’s face and then the punches were exchanged.

Greg Economou, one of those athletes Calhoun borrowed to survive the 1986-87 season, recounted a story of a practice tussle he once had with Robinson in a Facebook post on Saturday.

Economou wrote, “What ensued was chaos – then as things calmed down, we looked at each other and both smiled, finding a place of mutual respect. We both hated to lose and both hated to be disrespected even more. From that moment on, our relationship changed for the better.”

Calhoun brought Robinson in front of the team for an apology after the incident with Gamble.

“I wanted to win every game,” Robinson said, “I didn’t want to lose. I wanted to let them know what the deal was, but I might have been trying a little too hard.”

That was the more mature Robinson speaking at the end of his senior season at UConn, the same Robinson who  handled his painful draft experience in a way that few others could have.

Before the draft, Robinson had told me, “When they call me up there on the podium and start showing my highlights  . . . that will be my happiest moment.”

That moment never happened. But Robinson went on to enjoy a long and successful career in the NBA, one that included many happy moments. In the end, the motivational moment that night in New York might have been the best thing that ever happened to him.

Rest in peace Uncle Cliffy. And rest assured your legacy at UConn is secure. You were a trailblazer for the Huskies. And you will never be forgotten.