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| The Covted Akeem "The Dream" Olajuwon Etonic |
The spring Sunday afternoon was warm and sunny. My mother wasn’t entirely pleased. My athletic shoes were falling apart and wouldn’t get me through the end of the school year. By the time I was a teenager, my shoes had become more expensive, and my mother instilled in me the goal of making them last until summer. As the prices rose, the durability seemed to decrease. Also, I played basketball on pavement almost every day.
After showing that I was still an all-star baseball player, I decided I wanted to devote my
time to basketball. I am 5’11, two-thirds of it torso, and of Scottish descent. We didn’t use the term “stay in your lane” back then, but it would have been appropriate. However, I’d taken to the game when the pro basketball surge of the 1980s swept in.
My dad was a star player in high school despite a lack of size. His best advice was for me to develop a quick release. I shot pretty much every day, working not only on accuracy, but speed. Before long, I was able to get my shot off, even against taller players. On most days, I was just as accurate.
Like my dad, I liked the Celtics. My second favorite team was the Houston Rockets. The Rockets then became my team during the 1986 playoffs with their playoff upset of the Lakers and a finals appearance against the Celtics. That Celtics team was one of the best squads ever assembled, and the Rockets were no match.
Basketball was so all-encompassing that high-tops were my everyday shoes. I don’t know that I needed ankle support in English class, but if so, I had it.
I walked into the sporting goods/shoe store at the mall to gaze at the on-hand selections. I knew I would get high-top basketball shoes; it was just a matter of which style I liked and how much they cost. My eyes scanned the floor-to-ceiling display and stopped on one shoe. My eyes grew wide. My heart pounded. I raced over and picked up the display. It wasn’t necessary. It could’ve been made of lead or lined with barbed wire, and I would’ve wanted it.
It was the Akeem Olajuwon “The Dream” Etonic basketball shoe in Rockets red and gold.
“With purchase, you get a free record of Akeem performing 'The Unbeatable Dream,’” said the young woman overseeing the shoe section.
Etonic was an odd brand for basketball shoes. Though the company preceded the game of basketball by fifteen years, its focus was historically on golf and bowling. Incidentally, Etonic was the first company to develop water-resistant leather for its golf shoes. I didn’t know anything about their hightops, but they crushed the eye test. These were some damned good-looking shoes. I think they’re still attractive today.
Away from Houston and in Tulsa, Rockets memorabilia was difficult to come by. We didn’t have the Internet and web stores where we could order items from anywhere. There was the mail-order business in Hanover, PA, for which Larry Bird did television ads. That was more of a once-a-year thing. At that point, I’d only been able to find a red logoed t-shirt that I wore every other day.
Given this, it’s understandable that I got excited and that my materialism kicked in. Akeem was a burgeoning superstar and one of my favorite players. Here was a chance to purchase his signature shoe. Nobody at school had this.
My mother was far less impressed. She didn’t like basketball and couldn’t possibly grasp the significance. Her first question was what was printed on the price tag. I don’t remember the amount; it was elevated but not ridiculous. Still, it was more than she had planned on paying. What immediately followed is something I’m not proud of. As a matter of fact, telling the story now still feels a little rotten.
Anyway, as I mentioned, it was rare to find Rockets artifacts in Tulsa, and this was a big one. Also, I really wanted those shoes. I didn’t ask for a ton of stuff; it’s just that usually when I did, it was significant. At that time in my life, those shoes meant a lot to me.
Plus, I was fifteen. Children aren’t great negotiators. We’ll bargain, but that’s about the extent of it. I remember one dreary Saturday evening being at the relatively new phenomenon known as a video rental store with my mother and younger sister. It was pin-drop quiet when my sister offered to brush her teeth in exchange for renting The Muppets Take Manhattan. I laughed because I’m the older sibling, and part of my job description as such is to stir up as much shit as possible. My mother felt even worse, particularly after renting a pair of R-rated movies, meaning my sister and I would have plenty of time to brush our teeth that night.
I was an ardent toothbrusher, so that wasn’t a bargaining chip I possessed. My silent dismissal of the balance of the store’s selection had not worn my mother down, either. Short on ideas, I opted for a poor, pitiful, sad sack.
“I think I’ll just hang on to these a little longer,” I said, gesturing toward my feet. “They’ve got some life left, and I’m not crazy about anything here.”
My mother paused. I didn’t look at her. I knew the look she was giving me, and I didn’t want to see it. I rested my case. It was The Dream or bust. I was prepared to soldier on with my well-worn Converse.
She moved over to the display and grabbed the Etonic from the shelf, and gave it a good look.
“Do you have this in a ten?” she asked the clerk.
I turned away to allow a smile to creep across my face.
Moments later, the clerk returned with the shoes. I tried them on and loved them even more.
“Are you sure?” I asked my mom.
“You’re worth it,” she said with a reassuring smile. This is how my mother operated. She’d do without something to make up the difference. I never fully understood this until I had a child of my own. Clearly, she’d made her peace with it and was ready to move forward. Not that she wouldn’t replay the piteous scene for my father when we got home.
One of the cool things about Akeem Olajuwon is that, a few years later, when he became a genuine superstar, world champion, and league MVP, he partnered with Spalding for a new signature shoe. He realized that basketball shoes shouldn’t cost so much that kids would steal them or kill for them. These you could buy in the help-yourself racks at Kmart and other retail outlets for $35. It was a great gesture at a time when his popularity was at its pinnacle.
The Etonics rung up for considerably more. I tried to show my gratitude without spiking the ball. Yes, I had won and yes, I was happy, and yes, I was grateful and yes, I was a bit of a baby about it. Tactfully, I also talked up the quality of my new shoes. The ankle area came with extra nylon bands and release buckles. I made the assumption this would offer better ankle support and prevent me from turning my ankles on the court.
There is an adage when it comes to negotiating to the effect of once you get what you want, be quiet. My unnecessary yapping raised a point of contention.
“Those have to last,” my mother said emphatically. “You should wear your old shoes for playing basketball outside,” she said, thrusting a glistening steel pin into my big red balloon.
“But they’re worn out,” I protested.
“From playing on concrete,” she noted.
I was so angry with myself. I’d said too much.
“These are the coolest shoes I’ve ever had,” I said, chopping water and trying to stay afloat. “I’m going to take very good care of them.”
“That’s good to hear,” she said. “I’m glad you understand.”
I tried to keep the discussion at a stalemate until I could come up with a good argument. Part of it was my fashion sense, such as it was. From seventh grade on, I could have been a stand-in for Zack Morris from Saved by the Bell–button-down shirt, wash-of-the-season Levi’s, and high-top basketball shoes. By refusing to change it up, my shoes got more wear than they should have. Costing what they did–even then–my mom wasn’t crazy about replacing them multiple times each school year.
By that time, we were almost home. I’d won the war but was losing a major battle. In desperation, I made a statement that contained an element of truth, though it hadn’t been a primary concern.
“It’s just that the old shoes have been hurting my feet a little.”
I don’t know if my mother missed her calling as a podiatrist. She has always been concerned with my feet. Making sure they’re warm, dry, in a sturdy, well-fitting shoe, and in socks for bed during the winter.. Mentioning foot discomfort was a stop-the-presses, slam-on-the brakes, drag-the-needle-off-the-record situation.
I’d reclaimed victory and wore my Dreams to school and for playing ball afterward. To my word, I took great care of them and wore them until the soles had essentially eroded. I never saw another pair for sale anywhere. My tactics may have been untoward, but I’m grateful I was able to get them when they were available.
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| Twelve Inches of Dynamite |
Also in the bag, as promised, was the 12-inch single of “The Unbeatable Dream,” performed by Akeem Olajuwon and a fellow by the name of Hurt ‘em Bad. It should be noted that there was a disturbing trend in the 1980s, with sports teams recording songs. Now, disaster is often presaged by the words, “took to social media.” The analog in the 1980s was “went into a recording studio.”
Given the environment, Olajuwon adding a few lines to a song about him and his shoes wasn’t out of the question.
Hurt ‘em Bad, a character who fronted a group called the SC (soul connection) Band. They were among the earliest West Coast rap artists back when hip-hop was largely confined to New York City. They were out of San Bernardino, which clearly lacks the menace of Compton, but must be much better for securing an insurance policy and life expectancy. They were from the Inland Empire, which is at least an empire.
Musically, they weren’t prolific, nor did they demonstrate any real greatness. Hip hop performers often say they write about what they see. Ostensibly, Mr. Bad watched sports on television and wrote about them, cooking up some rad Casio beats to pair with them. He also did a lot more name-checking than chin-checking. “Monday Night Football” (and various remixes), “N.B.A. Rap,” and “The Boxing Game.” An internet rumor claimed a comeback was imminent with a new song about pickleball, but that’s yet to materialize. Not quite IShowSpeed’s bastardization of the World Cup in 2022, but not outstanding, either.
Whatever Mr. Bad’s musical limitations might be, he was astute enough to keep Olajuwon’s contributions to a minimum. Akeem has always spoken with a strong Nigerian accent, but it was particularly thick back in the 1980s. Hurt ‘em zips through verses praising Olajuwon while working in frequent plugs for Etonic. Hakeem punctuates each stanza with a phrase and then sing “unbeatable” at the end of each chorus. For instance, the last verse.
Hurt ‘em Bad
Akeem is back with shoes to match in his red, white, and gold
Work up a sweat get soaking wet keep striving like Akeem
And put ETONICS on your feet,
Akeem Olajuwon
And be just like The Dream!
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| Back cover, credits, lyrics, stunt feet? |
I still have the record. I put it on the turntable recently, and it’s really no cornier than it was when it came out. It’s an artifact from a bygone time. As such, it served as a nice reminder of a fun time in my life. And for several months back in the 1980s, even I could put Etonics on my feet and be just like the Dream.
