Below is the text of the induction comments by Lenox Rawlings, upon his entrance as a member of THE NORTH CAROLINA SPORTS HALL OF FAME.
Lenox is a retired writer. This becomes obvious. What was equally impressive was the way he presented his insights.
Lenox is a “homey” from Wilson,NC. A lot people were proud of Lenox, myself certainly included. But none more than BROTHER RUSSELL

LENOX RAWLINGS
NC SPORTS HALL OF FAME
MAY 15, 2015

When I was a boy growing up in Wilson, my grandfather would pick me up on Sundays around lunchtime and drive downtown to the Cherry Hotel newsstand across the street from the train station. He would buy a New York newspaper, and then we’d ride over to Fleming Stadium and enjoy the lazy hour or so before a Carolina League baseball game. I’d lay across the back seat in his Buick Special and get lost in the sports pages of the Herald-Tribune or the Times. We’d ask each other questions and exchange opinions – none of which I remember specifically. But I do remember feeling completely at peace.

It’s impossible to say when my love of sports and my love of language met at the crossroads, but one thing led to another, and now that I’m my grandfather’s age, I’m somewhat astonished to find myself standing here tonight accepting this great honor. There are lots of people to thank, beginning with my family, who taught me the difference between right and wrong and encouraged me to be myself and to do whatever I wanted to do in life.

My parents read at the beginning and end of every day and took us to the library where my mother later worked. My father, Lenox Jr., was a masterful storyteller with a dancer’s fine sense of timing, and he could leave a room roaring with laughter. My mother, Gloria, had a dry wit and precise powers of observation and considerable insight into human character. When I was about 11, she handed me her new copy of “To Kill a Mockingbird” and said, maybe for the only time, “I think you should read this.” She was right, of course. My brothers John and Russell and my sister Ann supported whatever I did and read my columns even if they had little interest in the subject. My wife Janice was a bit more discriminating. She preferred the good ones or the unusual ones, like that one about the alleged intelligence of the elusive largemouth bass. Janice reinforced the importance of intellectual honesty in everyone around her. She carried on cheerfully whenever I took off across the country to cover another story, and she traveled with me far and wide, especially after Jennifer and Barak grew up.

All of them sacrificed something for my freedom of movement.

So did my editors and publishers at the Winston-Salem Journal and other newspapers. They gave me freedom of expression. They defended my freedom of speech whenever they had to, which required more spine than you find in fair-weather guardians of the First Amendment. Fortunately, most of my interview subjects were civilized and cooperative. Many of the people I’ve written about and many of the writers I’ve worked beside are loyal friends. I’ve been lucky that way – in so many ways, really.

From elementary school through college, certain teachers recognized my affinity for descriptive writing and reacted positively. This happens every day in every school around the state, so it galls me when I hear politicians lump all teachers together and criticize them for failing to fix every breakdown in our society.

I’ll admit to an inherent bias. My other grandfather was a high school teacher and football coach before he became the town manager of Wendell. And, for half a century, I have watched teachers and coaches help young folks change their lives for the better. I’ve seen the modest home where my high school teammate Carlester Crumpler lived, raised by his loving grandmother. I’ve seen the neighborhood where Rodney Rogers grew up. I’ve seen the backyard goal where Kay Yow and her sisters and brother learned to shoot, long before women had a tangible future in basketball.

The beauty of sports – the democratic essence of sports, really – is that everyone stands on his or her own merits. Success depends on talent and work and persistence and passion, not privilege. These are basic values that endure long after the cheering fades. I’m more impressed with Carlester as an adviser to college students than Carlester the teenage legend. I’m more impressed with how Rodney has handled personal tragedy than how he handled basketball glory. I’m more impressed with Kay’s legacy as a cancer pioneer than her record as a pioneering coach.

They represent the best among us, but they aren’t alone. This room is full of people whose formal educations began in North Carolina’s public schools, people who developed a love for fair competition and helping teammates reach their potential, people who can look back through the clutter and clatter of modern times and recognize the wisdom of these simple ideas. When I was young, North Carolina was a leader in public education, but we’ve slipped. We should vastly improve the public schools for a future beyond our time – not because it’s the liberal or conservative thing to do, or the black or white thing to do, but because it’s the right thing to do. And because out there tonight in North Carolina, other kids are sitting in cars reading their electronic devices – maybe even reading the New York papers – and wondering how their stories will turn out. They deserve a fair chance, too.

Danny Talbott lost his war with cancer. Many thought he’d win. He won every thing else. Danny was a baptist preacher’s kid. In the 1960’s in North Carolina he was legendary. His pre-integration time called for every able bodied, red blooded male to play football. Most added basketball and baseball, as did Danny. Tennis and golf were for sissies. No one had heard of soccer. Maybe Pele. No girls allowed.
Coach Henry Trevathan coached Danny in Rocky Mount, NC. He said Danny was like another coach on the field. And not just in football. Rocky Mount won state titles in football, then basketball, then baseball, then football again the next year.
I was a “Peacock” in 1963/64. Danny’s freshman year at UNC-Chapel Hill. Peacocks were so called as our graduate school advisor was the beloved Dr. Bill Peacock. There were thirty college grads who taught the UNC freshman classes. I was teaching a basketball class on the Woollen Gym floor when Jack Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas.
Having lived in Wilson,NC, 18 miles from Talbott and Rocky Mt., I knew of his career. And told my fellow Peacocks who were mostly unaware of his feats. Freshman were ineligible then, and my colleagues hardly believed my hype. As basketball arrived Danny changed uniforms like a superhero. Shoulder pads for sneakers even after basketball and the remarkable Bobby Lewis show had started. All my buddies were there to watch Lewis. When they inserted Danny into the lineup, I loudly alerted them to his entry. Sure enough he was shortly on the foul line with two free throws. Nothing but foul lane, 1 and 2. howls and chagrin. Exit Danny until the game’s end, when fouled out Tar Heels dictated his reentry.
Sure enough, with one point down and seconds on the clock, there is Talbott on the line, with game on the line. Swish goes #1, swish #2, Game Talbott.
Come spring time there he is on the diamond, first year of an outstanding college baseball career. He later told me, “…I probably should have pursued pro baseball.”
Danny was easy to like. Big smile, rosy/rusty cheeks that glowed. Made you feel great. Bobby Dunn and I are friends and he and Danny were very close. When Danny went into sales after pro football, Bobby said he missed competition and was considering tennis. Send him over, I suggested.
Low and behold here he came to our college courts. Coat and tie abandoned for shorts and racket, on the run.
Danny was ambidextrous. He was hitting groundstrokes left handed forehand and backhand. His beginning shots looked good to me. “Why are you so discouraged?” I asked him.
“Watch this serve” he whimpered. He was correct. I never thought I’d see Danny Talbott look awkward at anything, but this was pretty awful to watch. He tried a couple of more serves. Then the duh? moment. Left-handed serve?
“Danny, aren’t you the quarterback that holds the NCAA record for 28 out o32 pass completions in the EAST/WEST All-Star game?” A puzzled “yes”. Did you throw them left handed ? Well, no of course.
Below is the quickest, most productive lesson I taught in my career:
1. The serve is a throw. Put the racket in your right hand. Turn your grip a little this way (“first knuckle, first bevel”). Now serve it like a throw.
2. Your wrist action at hit moment is much like a fast ball or slider is thrown.

I’m not sure if it was the first serve he tried, but I know it was before the fourth, that repeated ace like rockets zoomed over the net. I know he wanted to stop and thank me but he was having too much fun, I was too. So, I’d toss him a ball and a big “thump” would echo. I only asked about the grip, as that action is hard to see? “Yeah, fastball, slider, I got it!”
He would show up with questions and conversations. Eventually he played right handed while serving, left-handed on both ground strokes. On overheads he hit ones on the right, right-handed. The ones on the left, left handed.
It wasn’t long before I was getting reports that he was right in the middle of NC senior tennis tournaments. And, later, he did a similar thing with golf, becoming an accomplished player there too.
The last time I saw him was a year ago in Wilson’s DICK’S HOT DOG STAND. He was with a man I didn’t know, but later Danny said was his “cancer doctor”. “We go out to eat once a month”.
Rocky Mount named their hospital’s new cancer center after Danny Talbott.

Danny was so gracious with me. He always said “…that’s my tennis coach, he made my game.” But I always knew the “Big Coach” made Danny. He made a masterpiece.
PS–you guys who play sports up there. He’s coming. But you better be ready. He’s competitive.

I saw that happen in Kansas City once. A boy named Ben Taylor had lost a District title on a 9th point (old tie breaker) of the deciding set. Playing an hour from his campus, his coach said didn’t speak all the way back. His opponent’s own fans had seen the call and booed their classmate openly.
His coach dropped Ben off and confirmed: “Ben, you know your shot was good.”
Ben said, “I should have beaten him anyway.”
With a draw of 256 men in the NAIA Nationals, fate pitted Ben against the same guy.
Taylor by 6-2, 6-1.
Believe me.

About the time I started trying golf
Harvey Penick (with Bud Shrake) wrote
Harvey Penick’s Little Red Book (Simon and
Schuster, 1992). Penick, the longtime golf
coach at the University of Texas and golf
professional in Austin, describes the book’s
origin in the first part of the book:
“An old pro told me that originality does
not consist of saying what has never been
said before; it consists of saying what you
have to say that you know to be the truth.
“More than sixty years ago, I began
writing notes and observations in what I
came to call my Little Red Book. Until
recently I had never let anyone read my Little
Red Book except my son, Tinsley.
“My intention was to pass my Little
Red Book on to Tinsley, who is the head
professional at the Austin Country Club.
“With the knowledge in this little book to use as a reference, it would be
easier for Tinsley to make a good living teaching golf no matter what happens
when I am gone.
“There is only one copy of the red Scribbletex notebook that I wrote in. I kept
it locked in my briefcase. Most of my club members and players who came
to me for help heard about my Little Red Book as it slowly grew into what
is a slender volume
considering that all the
important truths I have
learned about golf are
written in its pages.
“What made my
Little Red Book special
was not that what was
written in it had never
been said before. It was
that what it says about
playing golf has stood
the test of time.

“I prefer to teach with images, parables and metaphors that plant in the
mind these seeds of shotmaking. These, too, went into the notebook— if they
proved successful.
“Maybe it was wrong to hoard the knowledge I had accumulated. Maybe
I had been granted these eighty-seven years of life and this wonderful career
in order that I should pass on to everyone what I had learned. This gift had not
been given to me to keep secret.
“A writer, Bud Shrake, who lived in the hills near the club, came to visit me
under the trees on this particular morning. “That morning under the trees we
opened my Little Red Book.”
Wikipedia states the book became the number-one selling golf book of
all time and calls Coach Penick perhaps the best golf coach of the
mental game. Among his star pupils, Mr. Penick lists Ben Crenshaw
(Masters Tournament champion) and Tom Kite (in his day the top money
winner for professional golfers and a U.S. Open champion).
The book is essentially 80 golf lessons, clearly stated in one to two pages.
A few are longer. What struck me immediately was the common-sense
approach, yielding succinct lessons. Lessons Coach Penick describes as
proven help. I doubt if anyone could make me much of a golfer. But more
than golf was the realization that this man knows how to teach and coach.
And he was the same kind of professional gentleman as my mentor,
Mr. Jim Leighton. Coach Leighton was Harvey-in-tennis. Perhaps not as
well-known, but he had the same kind of effective teaching techniques.
And, as I read Coach Penick’s book, I was stunned by the similarities with
Coach Leighton and the career experiences I had gathered over 50 years
of teaching and coaching.
Coach Leighton finished his career at Wake Forest University. The tennis
stadium is named for him. His book, Inside Tennis: Techniques of Winning is
a stellar tennis work.
My own writing is limited. I tried to compile a guide to coaching college
tennis in the early ’80s but abandoned the effort until 2007. Play Is Where
Life Is was about one-third tennis.
Like Coach Penick, I thought that was it. However, Coach Penick
published three more books. I like all of them, especially the title of his
second: If You Read This Book You Are My Pupil, And If You Play Golf You Are
My Friend. My son Dan says I am “on the other side of the digital divide” and
introduced me to blogging. The Little Red Book of golf may be the
first golf blog. I doubt if Harvey realized what was to come.

My blog (www.tomparham.wordpress.com) was a way to continue
writing—and writing about tennis especially.
I do not consider myself in a league with either Coach Penick or Coach
Leighton. I do have an admiration and appreciation for both. And a
realization that they both went about conveying proven valuable lessons
in a language and style that is quite similar.
Bob Dylan sang, “you’ve got to get up close to the teacher if you want to
learn anything.” (“Workingman’s Blues #2”). The Little Green Book of Tennis is
my attempt to pay tribute to these two great teachers/coaches/
gentlemen and their techniques.
Like Coach Penick I have tried diligently to select the lessons that
are valuable and true in tennis. Most have a connection to my many hours
spent with Coach Leighton.

The link below is to an article in ATLANTIC MAGAZINE, by Taylor Branch.

The comment following is from that article.

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2011/10/the-shame-of-college-sports/308643/

This sweeping shift left the Olympic reputation intact, and perhaps improved. Only hardened romantics mourned the amateur code. “Hey, come on,” said Anne Audain, a track-and-field star who once held the world record for the 5,000 meters. “It’s like losing your virginity. You’re a little misty for awhile, but then you realize, Wow, there’s a whole new world out there!”

There were 14 internationals drafted by NBA teams. NC State’s Cat Barber wasn’t drafted. NC State recruited 3 international men’s basketball players (pending eligibility). Which Americans got bumped?

Football at the Crossroads

In the late 1960’s an orthopedic doctor, concerned about the health of his football playing sons, wrote his observations. Dr. O. Charles Olsen’s book, “The Prevention of Football Injuries,” made note of the adverse and pronounced effects of “spearing” or head gear to chest tackling.   While this technique was effective and caught on quickly, the number of deaths and severe injuries rose as a rapid level never before witnessed before in football.

Dr. Olsen concluded that energy equaled one half of the mass times velocity squared. (e=1/2m x v squared).   The bigger, stronger, faster players were creating a force that couldn’t withstand head gear to head gear, or head gear to knee contact.

The consolidation of schools eliminated many of the smaller players.   African American footballers were added to the talent pool, along with weight programs, better diets, and better coaching, and in many instances steroids.   Tremendous contact ensued.   And, while efforts have been made to control this violent hitting, football is at a crossroads.

The question of the long term effects of head contacts have forced the questions of (1) are we dealing with concussions properly,(2) are we legally liable if we turn our backs on the problem (3) are the linemen more vulnerable than we thought and (4) can you “take the head out of football?” and on and on.   These questions have been around.   Perhaps no one has done more research than UNC Chapel Hill.   Dr. Carl Blyth and Dr. Fred Mueller have done yeoman’s work in an attempt to protect our young players.   This effort was begun a long time ago.   Dr. Mueller still pursues the data at the National Center for Catastrophic Sport Injury Research.

Pro football features a real ballet each game day.   The receivers and defensive backs are making plays that are at a new level of brilliance  . Truly a work of physical, human art. At the same time Olsen’s theory of force is hardly better exemplified than when a receiver crosses the field and is hit by a defensive back.   And, while a defensive back may be penalized for “head hunting”, he knows if he jars the ball loose, and or intimidates the receiver, his game rating goes up. While this risks tragic injury possibilities (his own included) is his job security a factor that urges him on?

The crossroads football faces include some other variables.   The more violent the hitting, the more the injury.   Yet the more violent the hitting the more market appeal the game experiences.   Are we getting to the “gladiator” level of violence?   And while college and professional football are in the crosshairs of violence, perhaps high school footballers are even more vulnerable.   And here is why: The weak and small and slow are eliminated at the college level.   But in many high schools, small players may face tremendous opponents.   These guys hitting the “canon fodder” can create catastrophe.

“You can’t take the head out of football” might become “you must take the head out of football.”   How to do this is the crossroads question.   I fear the 2011 season will make this even more apparent.   “I would let my son play football, but I would not encourage him to play football.”  James Michener, Sports In America 1976.

Looking back at the blogs did my suspicions hold up?
1. Football is still dangerous, and getting to be more so. Also–it’s no secret. Everybody knows (see CONCUSSION).
2. In pro tennis both men and women have learned the virtues of the drop-shot. One–it tires opponents quickly.
Secondly, it has a subtle psychological effect that discourages opponents. Years back I suggested Djokavic and Murray
were the most diligent in pursuing it’s perfection. Didn’t the 2016 French Open prove that. American juniors: Take
heed. Develop your drop-shot. And your DEFENSE AGAINST THE DROP SHOT. That starts with conditioning and footwork/posture.
3. College tennis again. There is a direct correlation between college scholarships awarded to Americans, and future American
quality professional players.
4. The Iraq war. History unfolds and reveals the truth. Unnecessary war mongering is evil.

In the mid 1960’S I was a small college assistant basketball coach. I suggested to my veteran head coach that a lot of teams were playing a “match up zone”. His reply was,”…Clair Bee wrote the book on basketball. Nothing has changed.” Only later while watching our film did I realize, “He is only filming the offensive end!”
As a fan watching today there is a lot of coach Bee’s weave and cut in modern basketball. Lot of defense too.
The obvious paradigm for all basketball people in the 50’s, 6o’s, and 70’s was the Boston Celtics. Auerbach-the coach. Russell-defense,rebounding, team. Cousy- ball handling. Sharman-free throw shooting. Sam Jones-clutch shooting. Frank Ramsey and Havlicek–the value of the sixth man.
In 1954 the Atlantic Coast Conference was formed. I was 14. Why were the coaches going north for players? It didn’t take long to realize these guys played harder, played defense, and played a full court press that we didn’t, nor did we know how to handle a lot of pressure.
Here are some more awakenings:
1957–We could be as good as anybody (1957 Tar Heels). Plus Lennie could shoot.
We could learn how to handle the ball. The first basketball summer camp was at Campbell College and Petey Maravich was our magician. Made a widespread film of him and his practice drills.
Boom! Then the BIG one: Integration. At the Carolinas Conference level our”first” was Henry Logan. Henry was our “Michael before Michael”. The game has never been the same.
I saw an interview of Isaiah Thomas when the question was asked about the great year he was having and was he the league MVP? Reply? Yeah, but have you seen what Michael be doing out there?
When all kinds of youngsters began playing with their tongues hanging out, a la Jordan, Michael explained it was a “mannerism” he simply adopted from his father, as he watched his dad work on his car.
My guess is we are about to see a whole lot of kids playing basketball while chewing a mouthpiece.
Whether anyone soon will be able to shoot from bleachers, sometimes without seeming to look, I don’t know. But Stephen is the new, new thing. And they will try. Buddy Hield of Oklahoma is the first to show a similar technique and ability. Up to this point, Curry is the best shooter I have ever seen.
There is a lot more, and to be fair, some of it is old-time fundamental stuff. While a great player can have a “man on horseback” effect on a team, this is not the case with Stephen and the Warriors. Maybe his greatest contribution has been the offseason work that developed the left hand skills (dribbling and passing and catching) that enables his teammates so often. Young players should never neglect passing and catching skills. Pros are great at these skills. Strategy also related that is time-honored: 1. pick and roll. Double teammed? Hit the open man. Curry is a master at this. Can he see better than most? Surely. At an almost “mystical” level. The Warriors as a team are similarly masterful at catching his assists. And they DO BLOCK OUT.
I wrote a tennis article yesterday about how today’s greats (Djokavic and Murray) have realized the value of dropshots. And are using them as Jack Kramer advised (“the fundamental strategy of tennis singles is to find out what your opponent can’t do or doesn’t like to do, and make them do that!”) Nobody likes being made looking silly trying to run down a great drop shot. And, as of now, not many can. They better learn. It’s is only getting more useful.
Maybe this is Curry’s greatest value. It seems obvious that in the final game of 2015 the Cavaliers threw up their hands in frustration. Didn’t the same thing happen to Oklahoma in the seventh game this year? And to the 2016 Cavaliers in the first two games? How does this guy leave teams and players this good (and they ARE very good), standing around in the fourth quarter with a look of puzzlement and blame shifting on their stunned faces? Is it mystical, or fundamental basketball?
Me thinks it is some of both.