Ralph Lewis was a man of mystery and intrigue, of intimidation and controversy, of passion and competitiveness.
My first memory of Ralph comes from my seventh grade year. My dad and I were at Bear River to pick up my older sister from school and I had brought my basketball with me, so I was dribbling around being the unskilled seventh grader I was. Ralph took notice. He started talking to us, and proceeded to absolutely blow my little seventh grade mind. He took my ball and did this wonky left-handed continuous dribble spin thing, and told me I could do that too if I practiced. So, I went home and made futile attempts at the trick until I eventually gave up and forgot about it.
Fast-forward to the beginning of winter, 2019. I was sitting in my Monday Bruin Time listening to a couple of my friends tell me about how awful and difficult Bear River basketball was. Being the overthinker that I am, I began to worry. So, I got to tryouts nice and jittery that night. First thing we did? 100 burpees in ten minutes. While Ralph yelled at us about how this was going to be the warm-up for every practice. I got home that night 100% convinced that I would quit basketball before I even finished tryouts. My mom told me to at least think about it. So I did, all night long, as I tossed and turned trying to stop worrying. The next day of tryouts, I walked into the gym and Ralph told us to start warm-ups. Everyone started jumping back and forth across the lines and then grabbed balls. The same thing we did after burpees last time, which, as it turned out, weren’t part of the daily routine after all. I almost laughed out loud.
Tryouts ended on Wednesday after what felt like an eternity and a half, and I wasn’t sure if I had made the team or not. Why? Because Ralph was taking the time to talk to each and every one of the kids individually to give them the verdict. Finally, I found him at lunch, and he told me that I hadn’t made the team. But the story didn’t end there, because later that same lunch, Ralph found me and said that one of the coaches wanted to take a longer look at the “ponytail kid,” who he thought may or may not be me. He told me he’d talk to me again later that day, but he didn’t, because I had to go to the dentist. I had no idea what I was supposed to do, so I just showed up at practice that night, hoping that making the confident move would work in my favor. I asked Ralph if I was supposed to be there and he said no, but since I was there, to just practice. After that practice, he told me I could be on the team, but I’d get little to no playing time. I said that’d be just fine.
There was the time that Ralph hit a behind-the-back shot from the three-point line in my P.E. class. And the time he gave me shooting tips. Or the time I interviewed him for a story about celebrities and found out that his dad was a professional boxer and that he knew Kobe Bryant. My first thought after learning these things was: if anyone, it would be Ralph.
He had a flair for the dramatic. He loved to impress. He had a passion and knowledge for basketball that I have never seen another soul have. He cared about his players and everyone on campus. He cared about the people he dress coded and he cared about the people he confiscated vape pens from. He wanted the very best of each and every one of us.
Rest in peace, Ralph.
