whoaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[evanovitch]

In his book, Erving says that his extramarital dalliances with Stephenson’s mother, Samantha, whom he met in 1978, was purely sexual. According to Erving, Samantha was “a smart single woman — a pretty White girl, a bit of a hippie giving off a vibe of availability,” he writes in the book. Erving brazenly states in his memoir, that every time he and Samantha got together, she satisfied him orally and the one time she decided to get braces and could not please him in the usual manner, they had intercourse.
In his book, Erving writes about his sports journalist former mistress:

She becomes someone who helps me unwind if I’m feeling high-strung or stressed. I can drive over and spend a relaxing evening that might even include oral sex,” Erving writes. I can only remember one time that we actually had intercourse, and that was because she had just gotten this new orthodontia to straighten her teeth. With wire and gleaming metal bristling in her mouth, oral sex was not an option.

http://newsone.com/2749840/dr-j-book/

[Gen]

had to smh when mi read it. why julius ? what is the child going to think when she reads this ?

why is that people today nuh have any boundaries, filter or whatever dem want to call it ?

[jah_yout]

come on, doc! TMI

[Gen]

poor ting still a batta batta pan the WTA tour

[Tropicana]

The man is clearly a dawg with no class or respect for his wife or daughter. Athletes should be on the DND list right next to musicians.

[evanovitch]

The man is clearly a dawg with no class or respect for his wife or daughter. Athletes should be on the DND list right next to musicians.

whappen Tropi...how come u naw cuss di blond an say she shudda ha more pride dan being a man go to suck suck...is not like di whole world neva know dat him married...is one ting fi mek a man screw u pon di side but to juss be him suck suck specialist...mercy...

[Tropicana]

whappen Tropi...how come u naw cuss di blond an say she shudda ha more pride dan being a man go to suck suck...is not like di whole world neva know dat him married...is one ting fi mek a man screw u pon di side but to juss be him suck suck specialist...mercy...

Well clearly she is a slut whore but I didn't realize she was a blonde.

Also I am trying to indicate that I am a equal opportunity er so I resisted the urge.

[Tropicana]

See de slut deh:



Oh my gosh this chick has no shame...

he put her dad on a shelf and left him there for a quarter-century. Just because the rest of the world is preoccupied with Julius Erving doesn't mean she's had to be. She says she has never Googled him, that she has never even heard of "The Fish That Saved Pittsburgh." Instead, everything she's learned about the man has come second- or eighth-hand. She first found out he was her father when she was 4, and she first started denying it when she was 5. She'd say her father died in the war or that he was a sheik in Kuwait or that his name was "Ken." She didn't celebrate Father's Day, she celebrated Grandfather's Day. On dad-daughter nights at school, she'd show up with an uncle or a neighbor. On registration forms that required a father's name, she'd write "N/A" or "None Of Your Business!" Through the years, Dr. J wasn't so much a secret as he was a figment of her imagination.Until two months ago, when the phone rang ...

Uncharted territoryThere's no manual for this. There are no instructions for: Basketball icon meets female sportswriter, has extramarital affair, gets sportswriter pregnant, misses childbirth due to game against Pacers, asks for separate lives, reads about the child 18 years later in the newspaper, has a broken heart, wishes for a way to reconcile, spends nine years thinking about it, can't pull the trigger.
There's no way to fix all that. Is there? There can't possibly be a happily ever after. Can there? There's no phone call that can heal everything. Correct?
Even if we retell the story, examine every nuance, revisit preschool and Wimbledon and the ESPYS and Troy, Ala., the answer still has to be no. Or at least 90 percent no. Or 80 percent no. Or ...

Doomed from the get-goThe couple -- Julius Erving and Samantha Stevenson -- had no chance from the start. He was a freelance dunker and she was a freelance writer, but other than that, they were from different planets. He was black, married, worshiped and image-conscious. She was white, single, ostracized and passionate about the truth. He helped pave the way for the NBA-ABA merger; she helped pave the way for women in the locker room. They met in the middle somewhere, circa 1976, and on Dec. 15, 1980, she waited in a San Diego hospital for him to come kiss their newborn daughter.
"He was supposed to meet her, but he didn't show up," Samantha says. "He wasn't coming to rescue me, or be with me, so I moved on. I'm a big girl. The only thing I needed from him was his middle name: Winfield. I gave it to her, because she was a part of him because I wanted her to be tied to him."

The baby's full name was Alexandra Winfield Stevenson and, if Samantha had foreseen the drama ahead, she might have omitted his name from the birth certificate. But there it was, as plain as day, under father of child: Julius Winfield Erving II.The early years were testy. From all accounts, Erving's wife, Turquoise, was fuming over her husband's infidelities and livid at Samantha. In 1977, two years before her affair with Erving, Samantha had ghost-written a piece with Turquoise about life as an NBA wife for the New York Times, and, naturally, Turquoise felt betrayed. So there was little hope of Julius ever flying Alexandra in for a visit. In fact, the terse agreement between the two parties, drawn up by lawyers, was for Samantha to live at least 200 miles away from Julius, keep the birth out of the news, receive a modest monthly stipend and have sole custody. At the time, Julius was the reigning NBA MVP as a Philadelphia 76er, the good Doctor, and a paternity scandal -- much less an interracial affair -- could have been an image- and endorsement-killer. Samantha says she loved him and didn't want to be the cause of that. So she signed the contract, lived off his monthly checks and stayed in her little corner of the world: La Jolla, Calif.
"For better or worse, the parties honored it," Erving says. "We thought it was in the best interest of Alexandra."
All mother and daughter had were each other -- and a Schwinn bicycle to get them from Point A to B. Every morning, Samantha would put a crash helmet on her 3-year-old toddler, and pedal her to the grocery store, to the beach and five miles to preschool. They were an odd couple riding down busy La Jolla Boulevard -- a white mom and a mixed-race toddler -- and one of Samantha's angrier days was when a curious preschool teacher asked Alexandra who her father was and what he did for a living.
Alexandra didn't have a clear answer for them, and when she came home in some distress, Samantha whipped out a book titled, "The Legend of Dr. J." She showed Alexandra a photo of a chiseled Erving, palming an ABA ball, in a New York Nets uniform, and she told her 4-year-old: "This is your father. He's a great person, and he happens to be a basketball player. I'm your mom, and you live with me, but it's important for you to know he loves you."
She also explained his identity was "nobody's business," which is how an entire cover-up began. By kindergarten, Alexandra was drawing self-portraits of herself white, and, by grade school, she was telling her mom, "The next time someone asks me who my father is, I'll say Robert Redford." Samantha suggested she think of someone else, to which Alexandra replied, "Sidney Poitier?"
She also began telling her mom she disliked her middle name, Winfield, and asked to switch it to Chloe or Zoe.
"What's wrong? Winfield sounds presidential," Samantha said.

Instead, she was running circles around the other kids in sports. As an infant, she'd done underwater somersaults in the swimming pool, and later she excelled in soccer, gymnastics, tennis and ballet. Basketball she could take or leave. But then one day, at the age of 8, she came home from school with a flier that said the recently retired Julius Erving was conducting a one-time-only clinic at the local gym. All the boys in her class were dying to meet him, and, out of curiosity, Alexandra asked Samantha if she, too, could go, if she could see her father, finally, in the flesh.Samantha's reaction was, "Are you sure?" And when Alexandra assured her she was, the wheels were set in motion. Samantha did not alert Julius because they weren't communicating anyway. Instead, Alexandra showed up with one of Samantha's close girlfriends, who wrote ALEXANDRA STEVENSON in large block letters on a nametag ... then stepped back to watch the fireworks.
At first, Julius didn't recognize Alexandra. He'd seen photos of her -- Samantha would send some to the 76er offices once or twice a year -- but he didn't make the connection. What he did notice was a lanky, determined little girl, diving all over the court in her Size 9 sneakers, and he chose her as one of the camp's top performers. Her prize was a personal autograph from him, and when he looked down and saw ALEXANDRA STEVENSON, Erving's exact baritone words -- according to Samantha's friend, Geneva Kandel -- were, "Nice to meet you, Alexandra."
The little girl froze. She glared at Julius, said, "I don't want your autograph," and stomped away.
"I realized it was Alexandra, and it was quite embarrassing," Erving says. "I've replayed it a hundred times in my mind and thought about how it could've turned out differently, maybe if it had been set up a little better. It might be a wound that never heals for her. I was at the end of my career; a lot was going on. I was somewhat oblivious during that time."
Kandel actually remembers what she saw in Erving's eyes that day: tears. She remembers Turquoise, who was at the gym, fainting. And she remembers going back to retrieve the autographed basketball.
Alexandra brought the ball home that night and wouldn't let her mother see it or touch it. Instead, the little girl locked the bedroom door and examined her father's autograph for hours. She then placed the ball on the farthest reaches of her closet shelf, hid it behind her dolls and firmly shut the closet door.
Never to look at it again.

Finding her own gameBasketball was now taboo to Alexandra. If her mom was watching a Lakers-Celtics game, circa 1988, the little girl would change the channel, or turn the TV completely off, always in a huff. Samantha would try showing her video highlights of Dr J above the rim -- above the square, for crying out loud -- but Alexandra would roll her eyes. The little girl decided she already had a dad: her mom.

Courtesy of Samantha Stevenson

Samantha devoted all her energies to her daughter and became highly protective.

Samantha fretted over this and decided her daughter needed as many surrogate fathers as possible, which is where tennis came in. By age 8, Alexandra had already mastered every shot in the book -- in pinafores handmade by Samantha's mother -- and men's tennis coaches were fawning all over the kid.
Samantha began taking her to see Tracy Austin's coach, Robert Landsdorp -- who told Samantha that Alexandra could be the next Margaret Court -- and, at the age of 10, she also introduced Alexandra to Pete Sampras' childhood coach, Pete Fischer. Samantha, who had been interviewing Fischer for a story, asked him to evaluate Alexandra's game, and when she served close to 100 mph, he predicted she could be No. 1 in the world someday.
Fischer, a pediatrician, was willing to coach Alexandra, but it would mean Samantha driving 240 miles, round trip, from La Jolla to Los Angeles one day a week, and later three days a week. The Schwinn bicycle wouldn't cut it. They needed a reliable car, and guess who bought them a white Volvo station wagon.
"I wasn't in their life," Erving says, "but I was never a deadbeat dad. I didn't ignore them; I tried to support them."
The truth is, Erving had been raised by a single mother himself and had only laid eyes on his father, Julius Winfield Erving I, twice in his life. "And those couple occasions weren't really all that cool," Erving says.
He empathized with Alexandra's plight; she just didn't know it. She couldn't understand why, on her birthdays, there was never a card or a present. "Presents are big to me," she says. "I can't lie." She had no idea he felt his hands were tied by his wife and the agreement, no idea he was an attentive dad to four other children: Julius III, Jazmin, Cory and an adopted son, Cheo. It was a shame, because both lawyers knew exactly how paternal Erving was and how maternal Samantha was. When Erving would visit Samantha's lawyer, he'd sometimes bring little Jazmin along to play. And when Samantha would negotiate with Erving's attorney, she'd always bring Alexandra, in a Snugli. Erving's lawyer even held baby Alexandra in his arms. They weren't one big happy family, but they weren't coldhearted, either. They were simply separated by legalese.
"With the lawyers involved, and Alexandra's mom and my wife, it put me in a very unusual position that there's no real preparation for," Erving says. "So I honored an agreement that if I look on, would I do it again and do it the same way? I would prefer not to, but what's done is done.
"I've always had a parental love, knowing that I had a child out there, and I knew if there was ever a time she needed me, I would be there."
Regardless, Alexandra already had written him out of her life, and her philosophy on seeing him again became "better never than late." After that basketball clinic, she decided she'd forever belong to her mom and only her mom. She would only sleep in her mother's bed until she was 7, and, after that, they slept in adjacent twin beds in their one-bedroom apartment. Samantha felt it was crucial to almost spin a cocoon around her daughter. She'd hear, "Oh, are you babysitting?" when she'd take her out shopping, and she felt it was necessary to close ranks, to live only for her daughter.

There is more but mi cyaan tek i'.


What selfish and irresponsible...man I can't even call them parents.

http://espn.go.com/espn/eticket/story?page=drjandalexandra

[Tropicana]

I guess no one has ever told these people "a noh everyting fit fe eat fit fe talk".

[CeaBee]

he clearly doesn't have a relationship with his dawta....and don't want one., to be chatting bout her mother like this

[Blackstar*]

See de slut deh:

dr-j-to-76ers-23x3tor-300x155.jpg

[Tropicana]

His photo was already posted at the beginning of the article but since there is a need to re-post dem.

See de dawg and im slut deh....man some white women do not age well.




Vannie now you see why mi did pon im widout mentioning her. Notice no one objected to anyone pon im.

Lots of defensive women pon yah every time de word slut is mentioned. Wondah why?

[kia027]

read the article posted to the end and while there were a lot of mistakes made, it is nice to see how he has built a good relationship with his daughter. People do change over the years.

[Tuff Gong]

I don't read books, don't read autobiographies and such. I came to this topic because of the interesting title. I actually thought it was about the weave imports, but that's another story.
However when I saw it was about Dr. J and what he said I was so disappointed and was about to blast Dr. J.
Good thing I read the excerpt on the next page. I can see the context in which he tried to explain how his daughter came to be conceived and how legal wrangle kept them apart.
This is all too common, even amongst poor and less well-known folks. Outside ooma/man and outside pickney.

I believe his story.

[CeaBee]

oh him and him dawta a talk now. Good. I usually read the whole article before commenting ..i think i just saw this excerpt all over the internet and it did me suh till


etick_cs_djas04_412.jpg

him still never have fi write that piece of TMI bout her mother though