Those Times I Guarded a Chubby Draymond Green

I used to line up against Draymond Green. This was many technical fouls ago. Before he went to Michigan State and the Golden State Warriors, and before I took my talents to lunchtime hoops.

In one corner, you had me at 6’3’’, maybe 180 lbs – and that’s if I had shoes on, a sweatshirt, and McDonald’s for lunch. In the other corner was Draymond Green. He had me by four inches and at least 70 lbs.

First time we matched up – as I’m sure he vividly remembers – was back in middle school. He was on a Michigan Dream Team known as “The Roadrunners.” Our team was the Wile E. Coyote, always getting close, always strapping ourselves to the back of a rocket, but, in the end, meep-meep, bested again.

We beat the Roadrunners a couple of times on Saturdays, but on Saturdays, the Roadrunners ran a pool hall hustle where they’d play one roster, then, oh by the way, Draymond and his buddies arrived for the Sunday playoffs. I’m still convinced that someone was roping overconfident fathers into enticing bets during Saturday games.

Hey, I’ll bet you $5,000 my Roadrunners win the title. AND I’ll give you the entire field. 

Oh, you’re on, buddy!

Roadrunners win again, and a few sweaty fathers prepare to tell their wives, “Honey, I might’ve just lost the Chevy Tahoe."

What was 13-year-old Draymond like as a basketball player? Honestly, he was chubby. He looked like a kid walking home with a bag of pizza-flavored Combos. But there were already murmurs in the crowd. That’s him. See him over there. That’s Draymond Green.

He lived up to the hype in his own relaxed way. He would hang out at the 3-point line, burying three after three. Swish. Swish. Swish.

We met again junior year, and they destroyed us. Won by 30. When I went up for a rebound, I was like Newman in Space Jam getting flattened by the Monstars. I’d try boxing out Draymond and Josh Southern (who was 6’9’’ and played at Boston College), but they’d put their arms over my head like I was their 6-year-old son.

But senior year would be different. The game was on our home floor. Midland, Michigan, baby. The home of the Dow Chemical Company. Nothing strikes fear into an opponent like seeing our logo (an atom) at half-court. We had this game circled on our calendars the second the schedule was released. For them? Draymond probably hopped on the bus and asked, “Yo, where we going again?”

Our chemistry teacher announced the starting lineups. Draymond jogged over and we met for the pregame handshake. Honestly, I wasn’t wondering, “Will this guy be in the NBA?” I was asking myself, “Is he already winded?”

To give you a sense of Draymond’s size — before Tom Izzo ran him into shape — here’s how the Saginaw High coach once described him in a newspaper article: 

“We just kept milking the cow. When Saginaw Arthur Hill went to a man, we went to the cow. As long as the cow keeps giving milk, you keep milking the cow.”

After the winded pregame handshake, we went to our respective huddles. You could sense our parents sending up short prayers. Hey, God, please let it be within 30. Right away, Draymond caught the ball a few feet behind the 3-point line. NBA range. I got in my defensive stance, but it wasn’t necessary. Draymond had no interest in driving to the basket. Fires up a shot. Perfect arc. Swish. A couple plays later, more of the same. And another one after that. And another one…

Everything was so casual for the big man. He worked up as much of a sweat in the pregame handshake as he did in the first quarter. This didn’t feel like a game of basketball; this was a game of PIG out in the driveway. I kept expecting someone to set up a lawn chair for him behind the arc.

First Quarter

Saginaw High: 25

Midland High: 7

Halftime

Saginaw High: 39 

Midland High: 16

Early in the third quarter, Draymond landed awkwardly and left the game with a twisted ankle. There was a mixed feeling of “I hope he’s okay,” and “Hey, this is our chance! We’ve got the Roadrunners on a Saturday!”

We played them even in the third. They scored 19, we had 18. Going into the fourth, we were still within striking distance: 58-34. By “striking distance,” I mean, “Saginaw pulls their starters.” 

In the end, we lost 74-58. Draymond scored 23. I had 10. 

Someday, my grandkids will get the edited version with no mention of the twisted ankle. The headline will read, “I scored double figures on Hall of Famer Draymond Green,” or “I held Draymond under 30!” 

It was not uncommon for me or my older brother to play against future college athletes. Future NBA players. Growing up in Midland, we ran into a long line of great athletes from Saginaw and Flint. Guys like Jason Richardson, J’Nathan Bullock, and Kelvin Torbert. I remember watching future Pittsburgh Steelers linebacker Lamarr Woddley play football, but arguably more impressive was seeing him on the basketball court, shaking the floor as he bulldozed into the lane, ripping the arms off of any 160 lb Midland High kids who stood in the way of his offensive rebound.

All of these guys were at their most dominant in high school when the competition was more likely to seek an autograph than block their shot. But Draymond has actually become more impressive on an NBA floor than he was in high school. Or even back to those Roadrunners games.

I wonder how we’d match up today. I mean we battled at 12, 17, 18 years old. I think we are long overdue for a rematch. We’ll cover the game on ESPN, then schedule rematches every 10 years. It will be an even playing field once we’re both in our seventies.

So, Draymond, let me know when and where. We can play this here in Chicago, or over there in Chase Center. Or hey, why not take things back to Michigan; back to the Saginaw Valley?

This time around, I’m pretty sure I’ll be the one who’s winded.

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This chapter is from the book "Here or There," which you can order here. Or There. Or by clicking the cover above.