Butler Turns the Jokes on Irvine’s Opponents

Well, it’s official: No more Ricky Butler fat jokes allowed.

The former prince of pork rinds, duke of double dips, earl of eclairs, baron of burritos is hereby released from all heckling sessions. The wait for his weight to drop is complete. The Chunkster Dunkster, now at a more manageable 250 pounds, has left the state of portly and is on his way to pleasingly plump.

And not a moment too soon, says UC Irvine Coach Bill Mulligan, whose team has experienced a mini-resurgence with the new and improved Butler at center.

In two months’ time, Irvine has gone from being a team hell-bent on chaos to a group of sneakered funnels, where almost every pass eventually makes its way into the low post where Butler resides. Along the way, Irvine has become a respectable team and, at times, dangerous.

Butler has had help, mind you. When he struggled in December and January, guards Kevin Floyd and Rod Palmer did what they could to keep Irvine afloat. And now, as teams begin to drape their defenses around Butler, forwards Mike Doktorczyk and Jeff Herdman pump away from the three-point line, enough times to find themselves now ranked among the nation’s leaders in long-range shooting percentage.

But truth be known, it is Butler who makes the difference. Logic dictates that short shots, like slam dunks or layups that lightly kiss the glass, have a better chance of going in than jumpers from press row. With that in mind, Mulligan has resorted to an old standby, which is the inside game. It worked before, with the likes of Kevin Magee and Wayne Engelstad; it works again, this time with Butler.

If not, Irvine might as well save itself the cost of chartering a bus for next month’s Big West Conference tournament at Long Beach Arena.

Strange thing is, Butler isn’t tall--6-feet-6, tops. He isn’t fast. He isn’t a leaper. “I can jump about this high,” he says, holding his thumb and forefinger about two inches apart.

But he has a sense for the game and a knack for making difficult catches and perfect passes. He also is proud owner of a considerable bottom, which makes it possible for Butler to carve out space in the land of the giants. No amount of exercise and dieting has affected this, uh, asset.

“People always tell me I’ve got a big butt,” he says. “They always tell me that’s the key to my success.”

Maybe, but Mulligan likes to think it was the 40 or so pounds Butler has shed since summer. At least now, Butler can make it up and down the court without needing a Twinkie timeout. No longer is his body-fat level higher than that of a walrus.

Back in December, as he sat on the bench against San Diego State, Butler decided something had to give, mainly his weight. “It wasn’t that I ate a lot,” he says, “it’s just that I ate all the time.”

So he started staying after practice to ride a stationary bicycle. He started eating less. And just when he thought he had made progress, Irvine played UNLV.

There are certain moments, so humbling and embarrassing, that you never forget them. The evening of Dec. 15 was one such time for Butler.

As he took his place on the court, UNLV’s David Butler introduced himself.

“I’m going to dunk over you, fat boy,” he said.

Or . . .

“This fat guy can’t hold me tonight.”

Ricky Butler didn’t quite know what to do. After all, he was on the rotund side. And this was UNLV we were talking about.

Earlier this month, Butler--Ricky, that is--received a measure of revenge when Irvine upset Vegas at the Bren Center. The victory was as sweet as a slice of chocolate cake. And more filling, too.

It’s been quite a trip, this journey from inactivity (Butler missed his freshman season because of academic deficiencies) to borderline stardom. This is the same guy (a svelte 230 pounds at the time) who outplayed the famed J.R. Reid at a high school tournament, who was recruited by 19 of the top 20 teams that year, who was listed at or near the top of every California player rankings.

J.R.? LeRon Ellis? Bryan Williams? Butler was considered their equal.

“I hope one day I can have that back,” Butler says.

He’s trying. His scoring average, almost non-existent at season’s beginning, is steadily climbing. In Butler’s past six games, he has averaged 19.3 points and 8.3 rebounds. Over that same period, his field goal percentage is a robust 60. “I’m just starting to play good,” he says. Just imagine if he started a season the way he’s ending this one. Consider the possibilities of a Butler who arrives at 1989 summer practice with a lunch-box mentality, rather than just a lunch box. Already, Butler has plans.’

“I’m going to come here next season as a lean, mean, fighting machine,” he says. “I’ll be ready to go.”

Ah, ha, so Butler finally sees the light. The good news is, this one isn’t inside a refrigerator.