NBA Blew Chance to Raise Standard

He died last week in Mozambique, Gabriel Estavo Mondjane did. He tripped and fell in his back yard, hitting his head on a concrete patio.

During all the customary commotion of Super Bowl week, I did not get a day free to comment on Mondjane’s death, which was hardly a proper way to see off a giant of our times. Now that football season is officially over and basketball season is back on my mind, however, I have been giving a great deal of thought to the big guy.

Gabriel was 8 feet 3/4 inches tall.

Talk about your power forwards. There isn’t a lineup in the NBA that couldn’t have used Mondjane. He could have gone up to Manute Bol and called him “Shorty.” He would have had to duck to dunk.

This is one dude who wouldn’t have needed a pump in his sneakers. Gabe could have won the opening tipoff barefoot. Teammates could have run give-and-go plays between his knees. He could have become the first player in history to bump his head on the overhead scoreboard.

He was 45 years old when he went, younger than Wilt, who still believes he can play, and not much older than Kareem, who was playing as recently as June.

Oh, if only Jerry West or some other sharp NBA general manager had taken the time to go see the big fella in his hometown of Maputo. For the price of round-trip air fare to Mozambique, some team could have had the center of its dreams.

David Robinson? Hah! That little squirt? Big Gabe had more than 12 inches on that puny San Antonio Spur.

Patrick Ewing? Small potatoes. Put him at point guard. If the Knicks had bothered scouting Gabriel Mondjane, they could have been reading about him on the back page of the New York Post by now. He’d be the second-biggest center in town, after the World Trade.

Manute Bol? Everybody makes such a fuss over him, merely because he’s 7-feet-6, or 7-7, whatever. What’s that compared to an authentic 8-footer? Mondjane could have guarded Bol with one hand and adjusted the 24-second clock with the other.

Alas, I guess the big guy never did play basketball. According to his obituary, he weighed 392 pounds and used to work in a Portuguese circus. He was billed as “the Giant of Mondjacaze,” after his birthplace in the province of Gaza. As nicknames go, it wasn’t exactly “the Human Highlight Film” or “the Round Mound of Rebound,” but pro basketball reporters would have come up with something better eventually.

Upon his death, the Guinness Book of Records confirmed him as the world’s tallest man. The tallest man ever was one Robert Wadlow of Alton, Ill., who died in 1940. He stood 8-11.

Recently, I have spoken to several NBA general managers, all of whom agreed that, yes, they could probably use a good 8-11 man.

I have to believe that if Gabriel Estavo Mondjane had been approached by somebody, he definitely could have been a lottery pick.

Steadily over the last couple of decades, we have seen the growth of professional basketball, in more ways than one. When Chamberlain came along, he was colossal. Then came Abdul-Jabbar, who was even more so.

Abdul-Jabbar led to Tom Burleson, who stood 7-4. Next in line was our old friend, Chuck Nevitt, who was 7-5. Then came Bol, tallest of them all. We ushered in an era in which 6-9 Magic Johnson was a playmaking guard and 7-4 Ralph Sampson was somebody’s forward. The word tall was redefined, right before our eyes.

A census earlier this season revealed that the NBA had 40 players 7 feet or taller. There was talk of raising the hoop, widening the floor, raising the roof. Referees are getting bloody noses, merely trying to toss up the opening jump ball. Centers are going onto the disabled list with vertigo.

Coaches, bawling out a player, start screaming: “Sit down while I talk to you!”

“I am sitting,” the player says.

By the time he retires, an Abdul-Jabbar is a pipsqueak. At old arenas like Boston Garden or Chicago Stadium, nozzles of the locker-room showers are aimed at the players’ kneecaps. Beds in hotels are so inadequate, players keep waking up with their feet in the minibar.

By the turn of the century, who knows how big our basketball players will be? There’s a baseball pitcher now, Randy Johnson of Seattle, who stands 6-10. Someday, he is going to go into his delivery and kick some batter in the chops.

Too bad about Gabe Mondjane, who would have been the biggest thing in sports.

People would have come for miles to see him dunk a free throw.