He’s short, flabby and can’t jump a lick, but . . . : Fulton Still Manages to Carry Cal Lutheran Despite Diseased Knees
It was Randy Newman who sang those now-famous words that, while ticking off short people everywhere, ring truer on the basketball court than anywhere: “Short people got no reason to live.”
Just where that leaves short, chubby people with bad knees is anybody’s guess. In college basketball, at least, such players are usually left out completely. They warm the bench or become team managers or mop up the court at halftime. Strangely, though, at Cal Lutheran, Coach Larry Lopez gives one such unlikely player credit for turning the Kingsmen around this season.
Outside of the fact that CLU point guard Michael Fulton (5-9) is short, he’s also flabby, slow and can’t jump a lick. He is perhaps the unlikeliest looking college basketball player in America.
“Let’s put it this way,” says teammate Steve deLaveaga, “he’s not a gifted player. He doesn’t exactly possess, uh, a basketball physique.”
What Fulton does have is a degenerative joint disease in both knees called osteoarthritis. He began feeling the effects of the arthritis--pain, swelling and stiffness--two years ago while playing at Marin College in Northern California. Even though the problem has gotten progressively worse, Fulton wanted to continue playing basketball and Cal Lutheran was the only four-year school that was remotely interested.
Lopez, who hadn’t seen Fulton play and who wasn’t even aware of his health problems until three weeks ago, told the guard he was welcome to walk on at fall practice but no scholarship money was promised. When the coach first saw Fulton play, his impressions ran along these lines: “Gee, I don’t know if this guy can play,” and “He isn’t real impressive.”
Initially, Fulton saw little or no playing time, but after CLU fell hopelessly behind in its game against Cal Poly San Luis Obispo on Dec. 6, Fulton was sent in to mop up. Instead, he hit three straight shots and ran Lopez’ offense better than any of the other guards.
He’s been a starter ever since.
“Since he began starting, we’re a much better team,” Lopez says. “He’s not quick, but he makes up for it with his court sense. He doesn’t move well, but he knows when to pass the ball.”
To watch Fulton attempt to run is to feel pain. He shuffles along the floor in what looks like a hurried penguin walk. “One of my teammates calls me ‘Flipper,’ ” Fulton says. “The guys kid me about the way I run--I’m flat-footed and my whole foot hits the floor at the same time. It looks goofy, but that’s the way I have to do it.”
Even though Fulton hesitantly admits that he plays in pain, it’s an obvious conclusion. The arthritis is eating away the bone in his knees and he says he will have both knees replaced with artificial plastic joints next year after his basketball eligibility runs out.
Meanwhile, Fulton is forced to go through a daily ritual of ultrasound and whirlpool treatments and stretching exercises in order to walk, let alone play. The ultrasound treatment sends electric shock waves through the muscles surrounding the knees and lessens the tightening in the joint. “That saves me,” he says. “Otherwise I couldn’t do it.”
To keep his knees warm, Fulton wears braces made of the same kind of rubber material used for wet suits. “For the first five minutes of a game, I’m usually OK, but after the first timeout or any break for more than a minute, my knees start to lock up. For about 80% of the game, I’m in pain.”
The worst is saved for last. After the game, Fulton puts ice on the knees for 20 minutes to slow down the swelling and, “I try to stay off my feet as much as possible.”
Says DeLaveaga: “On road trips, I’ve had to help him out of bed in the morning. He’s had to overcome so much adversity, but he works hard. I have a lot of respect for him. There’s no question that he’s our leader.”
Such respect has come slower from Cal Lutheran’s opponents. At times, opposing players have openly laughed as Fulton wobbled up and down the court. “I hear something almost every game,” he says.
Earlier this week, when CLU played Westmont, Westmont guard Ricky Collier taunted Fulton, saying: “You can’t shoot. You can’t do anything.” When Fulton hit two key shots late in the game to help the Kingsmen beat the NAIA’s ninth-ranked Warriors, Fulton says Collier quit hassling him.
“But,” says DeLaveaga, “Michael does his fair share of talking, too. He talks a lot. He’ll never be intimidated, though. He knows he’s little and he knows teams will try to push him around. But he doesn’t take it. He’s a tough kid.”
Sure, sure, he just shuffles up and pops a jumper in an opponent’s face.
The fact that Fulton looks slightly out of place on the court is, at least in part, his own fault. Before the Kingsmen’s first game, he got a butch haircut and then shaved a Nike swoosh on each side of his head. By his own admission, he looked more like a basket case than a basketball player. Since then, his swoosh-doo has grown out to an Army-style crew cut.
All of which brings up the other service Fulton provides for Lopez and the other players--he is the self-proclaimed team clown and resident knucklehead. Just like his knees, he tries to keep his teammates loose. “I like to keep everybody laughing,” he says. “Coach Lopez is such a hyper guy, he needs to calm down sometimes, so I clown around some.
“But my best attributes are my leadership and my desire. I just want to play so bad. When the guys see me hustle, it picks up the team. They know what I have to go through every day. It’s painful, but it’s worth it.”