UCLA will honor the life of Bruins basketball legend Bill Walton during its game against Ohio State on Sunday.
Walton, a towering presence both on and off the court, had a way of forging special connections with those in the UCLA basketball community. Players, staff, and others who crossed paths with him remember his kindness, humor, and larger-than-life personality. Walton, who passed away in May at age 71, left an enduring impact that will be celebrated by those who knew him best.
A Signature Walton Moment
It was late in UCLA’s victory over California in January 2017 when text messages started lighting up a UCLA basketball staffer’s phone. The broadcaster was up to something again—only this time, he was singing.
The staffer, Alex Timiraos, the team’s athletic communications director, had explicitly asked the ESPN crew not to acknowledge his birthday. But Walton had other plans.
“Happy birthday, dear Alex,” he sang on air, his deep voice carrying through the broadcast.
Moments earlier, Walton and his partner, Dave Pasch, had used a discussion about Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s No. 33 jersey to pivot to Timiraos’ 33rd birthday.
“Alex is 33?” Walton exclaimed. “He looks like he’s 19. Alex has been here for 10 years. Phenomenal to see the young people grow up, the sports information directors who are incalculably invaluable to us in our jobs. Thank you, Alex. Happy birthday.”
The camera panned to Timiraos sitting courtside, caught in the moment.
This was classic Walton—always finding a way to uplift those around him.
A Presence That Stretched Beyond the Court
Years after leading UCLA to back-to-back national titles in 1972 and 1973, Walton remained a beloved figure within the program. Ask any usher, broadcaster, coach, or player about the “Big Redhead,” and they’ll likely have a story—often one as endearingly eccentric as the man himself.
At shootarounds, Walton would point out each team member and call them by name, as if committing them to a mental Rolodex.
“There’s Rod Palmer!”
“There’s Nate Georgeton!”
“He really did seem to care,” Timiraos said. “About the people who made the program run.”
That void will feel even larger Sunday when UCLA pays tribute to one of its greatest players and most unique personalities.
Before the game against Ohio State, players will wear tie-dye warmup shirts—Walton’s signature style. Their jerseys will feature blue-and-gold “BW 32” patches in honor of his number. Walton’s wife, Lori, will serve as honorary captain, with family members joining her at halftime for a video tribute to the Hall of Famer.
Nine months after his passing, UCLA will finally get to say goodbye.
“This is like our funeral,” Bruins coach Mick Cronin said. “Because he didn’t want a celebration of life, and you have to respect people’s wishes.”
A Life of Celebration
No Bruin embodied the joy of life quite like Walton.
In 2019, after Cronin had just taken the UCLA job, Walton attended a basketball alumni barbecue at the coach’s Encino home. Hours after most guests had left, he was still there—chatting, laughing, even helping with cleanup.
Months later, sitting in a Pac-12 office, Walton recounted the event in his usual detail.
“He had lots of appetizers, lots of water, a beautiful, warm home, and an inviting atmosphere. Then he had all kinds of really good food—chicken, ribs, potatoes, vegetables, salad, corn,” Walton recalled. “Did I say potatoes too? And all the things I like, which summarizes my experience with Mick Cronin. I’ve been most impressed.”
That admiration flowed both ways.
Sophomore center Aday Mara, who shares Walton’s lighthearted spirit, remembers their conversations.
“I felt like we could talk for hours,” Mara said. “One of the things he told me was to be patient because big men often take longer to develop than smaller players. Just be patient and enjoy every day.”
For junior point guard Dylan Andrews, his first home game as a freshman came with an unexpected moment:
“He called me by my name,” Andrews said, “and I was just so surprised. I was like, ‘You know who I am?’ and he was like, ‘Man, yeah, you’re a phenomenal player,’ and he told me to be great.”
Lifting Up Those Around Him
It didn’t matter if someone was a star player or a behind-the-scenes staffer—Walton made everyone feel seen.
During a UCLA-USC rivalry game he called, Walton pointed out Chris Carlson, a Bruins associate athletic director, and Eric Mobley, a USC assistant coach—both fellow Helix High School graduates.
“He’s like, ‘Helix Highlanders, we’re everywhere!’” Carlson laughed. “He was very prideful about his neighborhood and where he came from. Then I’d get a flood of texts and calls like, ‘Bill mentioned you last night!’”
Walton also knew when to be discreet. When Cronin’s father, Hep, suffered a medical emergency the day before UCLA played Villanova, Walton kept it to himself.
“Most guys would have said, ‘Oh, yeah, Hep’s in the hospital next door,’” Hep said. “Him? Not a word. I appreciated it because I didn’t want to divert from the game.”
The Ultimate Teammate
On Southwest Airlines flights from San Diego to the Pacific Northwest, Walton always made sure he had an A1 boarding pass. But when traveling with Bruins play-by-play radio voice Josh Lewin, Walton would insist that Lewin board with him—even when Lewin held a C27 pass, usually reserved for the last to board.
After settling into his preferred emergency exit row seat, Walton would pepper Lewin with questions—not about himself, but about Lewin’s life.
“All I wanted to do was ask him about his life,” Lewin said, “but instead, he was so curious about everybody and everything else around him.”
Even at rental car counters, Walton insisted that Lewin go first.
“He was basically taller than 99.9% of the people he came in contact with,” Lewin said, “but every single person he met left feeling like they were his height. That was what made him so special.”
Walton also made time for those who shared his rare height. When UCLA center Thomas Welsh was selected late in the second round of the 2018 NBA Draft, Walton personally called to congratulate him.
“He was so touched,” Timiraos said of Welsh. “That Bill Walton called.”
A Lasting Presence
Even in his final visits to Pauley Pavilion, Walton made his way to the concourse, showing friends the exhibits dedicated to his legendary coach, John Wooden.
Seeing him outside the arena, veteran usher Peter Lee waved him in.
“Come on in, Big Bill,” Lee said, joking about the special chair Walton used for broadcasts.
Inside the arena, longtime broadcaster Tracy Murray exchanged their usual farewell.
“I love you, Bill,” Murray would say.
“I love you, Tracy,” Walton would reply.
It’s a ritual Murray deeply misses.
“I never thought it was going to be the last time,” he said.
Now, every visit to Pauley feels like reopening an old wound.
And on Sunday, as UCLA pays tribute to its towering legend, that absence will be felt more than ever.
