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I saw that my pal Phil Jasner wrote in the Philadelphia Daily News the other day that Sonny Hill was being honored by the Naismith Hall of Fame. Hard to believe, but apparently there is a generation of basketball fans who have never heard of Hill.
The reason I know this is because when Hill accompanied the Philadelphia 76ers to Oakland in late February, he did his usual thing on the court pregame, meeting and greeting virtually every coach and player on either side. I say virtually everyone because there were some watching Hill's show and saying: “Who is that guy?”
Describing Hill to someone who doesn’t know him can be done infinitely better by innumerable people. I remember him growing up as some sort of basketball icon, a basketball ambassador. He epitomized Philly basketball, in other words an important guy for someone like me who grew up 45 minutes away, in Reading, Pa.
Hill created the group of high-school summer leagues that carry his name, served on the advisory committee to the McDonald’s High School All-American game and was a broadcaster, among many other things.

One of Hill’s current titles is 76ers executive advisor. He was more a basketball celebrity to me, and I remember having an autographed picture of him on my wall growing up as a kid. I also remember him speaking to basketball officials in Berks County, of which my dad was one back in the day.
Thinking about Hill brings to mind one of my all-time memories as a kid, and it involves Julius Erving.
It was Erving’s first year in Philadelphia, 1976-77, and I went with a group to see a game. I remember being down by the court before the game, which used to be a big deal for that era's Sixers, and seeing Hill. I shouted to him over and over and finally got his attention.
He looked over at me, and I yelled that I was one of the ref’s sons from the banquet in Reading, had heard him speak a few months back and was wondering if because of that he could somehow get me Erving’s autograph … and make it quick. I was 12.

He smiled and said he couldn’t do that. That’s not the story.
The story is that later that night, at halftime or so, I was walking around the Philadelphia Spectrum with my buddies, when I came across a table where the Sixers’ wives were raising money for Multiple Sclerosis or Muscular Dystrophy, to this day I can’t remember which.
As I was sizing up the situation, Turquoise Erving, Julius Erving’s wife at the time, asked if I wanted to donate money. I remember telling her that I’d donate money if she would get me her husband’s autograph.
She assured me she would, and I gave her one dollar and a slip of paper with my name and address on it.
That was more than 30 years ago and I’m still waiting for that autograph. Since then, it’s always been tough to be an Erving fan, as you can imagine.
Sonny Hill’s always been another story.


