‘Step away from the spotlight’: The pressure is off Adam Morrison, but his basketball dreams remain as he enters Hooptown HoF

Adam Morrison still dreams about basketball.

As the Gonzaga legend nears his 40th birthday, with his induction into the Hooptown USA Hall of Fame scheduled for this week, an update seemed appropriate.

So much was written during his career, yet so very little of him since, leaving the collective memory of most fans to go dark after his injury-shortened NBA career.

Relevant to nothing other than curiosity, he was asked toward the end of an interview if basketball still inhabited his dreams.

Why ask? It is easy to imagine that the subconscious mind of a great player like Morrison would be a place where all knee ligaments are still intact and springy, and those high-release 3-pointers still arc unerringly through the welcoming nets of slumber.

Besides, Adam Morrison’s mind seemed like an interesting place. He was so obviously intelligent and capable of critical thought, but always so cautious with the media that he rarely let much of it escape.

So, the question about dreams was posed without expectations, just as a possible trigger for a bit of insight.

“Every now and then,” Morrison said about the regularity of his hoop dreams. “I always wonder when those will stop.”

He then made an interesting distinction. “I don’t know if (I’m) always playing, but being involved with basketball. Not always in a game, but still as a player … hmm … it’s interesting, a subconscious thing.”

Not always in the game, but still being a part of it? Perhaps the most interesting element of that point is this: It’s exactly what he’s doing in his waking hours, as well.

• • •

Even Morrison chuckles at the unlikelihood he would ever become a member of the media.

He’s seen both sides of the typical promotion/demolition cycle that is the way of the media. But even in its building stages, he was wary.

Could he have envisioned doing a pair of podcasts and offering radio commentary on Gonzaga men’s basketball broadcasts?

“I didn’t at all,” he said. “If you had said ‘media’ 10 years ago, I’d have gone (crossing index fingers, symbolic of warding off evil spirits). It’s weird it works out that way, but I got the opportunity to call the games and do a podcast that people like and follow. And, it’s easy to talk Gonzaga hoops. That’s right up my alley.”

Morrison hosts “The Perimeter” podcast on his own, sometimes with guests, and joins GU All-American guard Dan Dickau on the “Talking Zags” podcast. He pairs with announcer Tom Hudson with commentary on the Zags’ radio broadcasts.

“As the years have gone on, as he’s gotten more comfortable, he’s been able to break it down nicely and share his knowledge in a way (that typical fans) can understand,” Dickau said.

Hudson, too, cites Morrison’s growing comfort as a broadcaster. “He’s always had strong opinions and understands the game so well, and he’s just gotten really comfortable doing it. I think you’ve really seen him blossom and open up as the years have gone on.”

Morrison credits the help of Hudson’s detailed preparation and Dickau’s skills as a moderator for his growth in broadcasting.

“We have to be cognizant that these are student-athletes so you don’t want to be too harsh, but the audience wants to know what you think, so it’s a fine line,” Morrison said.

The image of Morrison as intelligent but reticent goes back to his Gonzaga days.

“There were perceptions about him at Gonzaga: as a player, he did interviews, but I didn’t imagine it was his favorite thing,” Dickau said. “With being the face of the program at a place like Gonzaga, and that last year, he and JJ Redick were the faces of college basketball, there’s going to be an incredible amount of pressure and demand to give more of yourself.

“I can imagine that was a lot of pressure at that age,” Dickau said. “To see him evolving into somebody who does a really nice job (broadcasting) is very cool as a friend.”

• • •

Pressure on Morrison? Sure, even on the way up, as Dickau points out.

As a junior, Morrison was co-National Player of the Year, the only Zag before or since to earn that honor. He played with talent and passion, and a hunger to score, leading the nation with a 28.1 points per game average.

Opposing fans loved to hate him, targeting his shaggy hair and aspirational mustache. He generally responded with flurries of cold-blooded daggers from deep range.

But fans and media increasingly closed in, wanting more. A young man who was shy by nature, was forced, by his luminous talents, into a brightening spotlight.

Was the attention annoying? “One hundred percent,” he said. “It was a different era, cellphones were brand new. Somebody taking a picture now, it’s not awkward. Back then, it was still awkward.”

In your face? “Yes.”

In your personal space? “Yes.”

The management of his Type 1 diabetes fascinated many. And Morrison welcomed inquiries about his maintenance regimen, and he became an example of achievement for many young athletes with the condition.

At one of the NCAA Tournament games in 2006, he had trouble with the mechanism at his insulin infusion site during a game and he ripped off some tape at his stomach. Rick Reilly, columnist for Sports Illustrated, sprinted from the media table to courtside to find and examine what Morrison had deposited.

Big story? Really? Discarded medical apparatus?

Television cameras frequently pulled in for close-ups when Morrison came to the bench and tested his blood and gave himself injections.

An invasion of privacy? “Oh, yeah, it got annoying.”

Being the third player taken in the first round of the 2006 draft, by the Charlotte Bobcats, only broadened the spotlight.

Averaging 11.8 points a game, with scoring totals of 30, 27 and 26 in the first few months of his rookie season, Morrison finished fourth in the Rookie of the Year voting.

In the preseason of his second year, a torn knee ligament forced him to miss the entire season. Largely ineffective thereafter, he ended his NBA career in 2010 as a reserve for the two-time NBA champion L.A. Lakers.

“Good and bad,” Morrison answered when asked what he sees when looking back at his NBA experience. “Obviously, the career would have been different if I didn’t get hurt. I’ve had great experiences, high and low, but I guess it’s (something) I turn the page on.”

Morrison several times used that image of turning the page when asked about times in the past. That’s over, move on to the next chapter.

But before leaving his NBA experiences, a couple pages are worth re-examining: his relationships with the late Kobe Bryant and Lakers coach Phil Jackson.

When Bryant died in a helicopter crash in 2020, stories arose of his friendship with Morrison. “He was obviously one of the all-time greats, and to have that type of player and person taking interest in you as a person was flattering,” Morrison said. “It was a friendship I’m glad I got to experience. He always liked Gonzaga guys, Ronny (Turiaf) and Rob Sacre – he loved those guys.”

Morrison said he never saw a better manager of people than Jackson. “I enjoyed being around him. He was always respectful of all the players. That deep-thinking stuff and meditation, all that stuff was real, we did all that. He really believed in team cohesiveness, one-team mind. There were other guys who were better with Xs and Os, but he was the best at bringing personalities together and having them focus as one.”

His high draft pick and big contracts elevated the expectations. When he’s mentioned now, he is sometimes listed among NBA “busts,” frequently ignoring the impact of his knee injury and his medical challenges.

Morrison grossed a reported NBA bankroll of nearly $17 million, so he’s not about to complain about his treatment, nor make excuses.

But the question had to be asked: Do you think people fully understood what it took out of you, physically, to play in the NBA with Type 1 diabetes? “You’re right, the 82 games and constant checking on blood sugar, and the ups and downs, it was hard, physically, from hour to hour.

“It’s something you can’t say at the time, but it was a real thing, travel and managing (the condition), and playing the position I played, all the running around … .”

And at the end of the career?

“In some ways, it was nice, I guess, to step away from the spotlight, or not having it shined on me, that part was nice.”

Turn the page.

•••

His health, he said, “is decent.”

“Still Type 1 – it (requires) constant managing. I’m lucky I live in the era of great technology that makes it easier to manage.”

On the brink of 40, Morrison is still lean and apparently very fit. He arrived at his interview, on time, and wearing a flat-brimmed Gonzaga ballcap and a Madonna sweatshirt. Except for the shave and haircut, he looks very much like the Adam Morrison that starred at Gonzaga.

He stays active coaching two daughters and a son.

“I’m mostly a dad in the offseason, and I travel a ton during the season,” he said.

Two of his best podcasts featured discussions with GU legend John Stockton, in which they examined the joy of coaching basketball to their daughters.

“It’s a different game, in a sense, it’s not above the rim,” Morrison said. “(Girls) listen more and play harder, from my experience. It’s a more pure game, they’re usually more unselfish and they listen more. It’s fun. I enjoy it.”

Dickau thought that, had Morrison gotten into coaching as a profession, he had the potential to be “a spectacular coach at a really high level. His knowledge commands respect, what he did commands respect, and I think if he had gone that route, he would have been pretty dang good.”

Morrison and Dickau, both, have missed some broadcasts when they conflicted with their kids’ sporting events.

“One of the cool things is what a good father he is,” Hudson said. “He’s great with his kids, and family is very important to him, something he’s really proud of.”

It’s obviously a very different life. The page has been turned, the spotlight shines elsewhere, and success, now, is by his own definition.

But the dreams remain.