Julius Erving wakes up each morning and begins taking notes to prepare for the day.
It is his way to, in his words, “put my focus on keeping the carrot out in front.
“… and somewhere in there might be that best day [of my life].”
Right now, there is a milestone birthday for “Dr. J” to celebrate. The ultimate 76er turned 76 years old on Sunday. The team recognized such symmetry throughout Thursday’s home loss to the Atlanta Hawks, illustrating the continued connection between Philly and one of its most revered athletes.
“He’s got a lifetime membership here,” Clint Richardson, Erving’s former teammate, said from Xfinity Mobile Arena. “They just continue to acknowledge him. This place is very special to him. I know that.”
It is obvious why Erving’s transformational, Hall of Fame career remains so beloved in this city, where he spent all 11 of his NBA seasons. The eye-popping athleticism channeled into glorious dunks. The 1981 NBA MVP Award and five first-team All-NBA selections. The hip and classy persona. And, on his fourth trip to the NBA Finals, the 1983 title he finally helped bring to Philly.
Beyond those accolades and highlights, though, Erving and Richardson recalled the pressure and responsibility “Doc” shouldered as the face of the NBA-ABA merger. He also went from being the bona fide leader of the New York Nets to sharing that responsibility with the Sixers alongside Doug Collins and George McGinnis.
“Pat Williams clearly said, ‘I don’t need a guy who can score 30 points a game,’” Erving said of the Sixers general manager who acquired him. “Thirty points wasn’t a big deal for me, the way that I played. … I don’t talk about it a whole lot because you can’t change it. But the journey could have been different. The NBA was different.
“I think I made a big sacrifice when I came to Philadelphia. And it paid off in the end because the seventh year, we won a championship. But I think we could have won it sooner.”
Richardson, whom Erving calls his little brother, idolized him in college. Then becoming teammates, Richardson said, “was kind of mind-blowing.” Off the court, he came to know Erving as the man who lent him a car and welcomed him into his family.
But road trips with Erving were “like being with Mick Jagger.”
“Traveling with Julius, it was like traveling with the Rolling Stones,” Richardson said. “Every night. Everywhere we went.”
That gravitas holds long into retirement, with everyday folks and celebrities alike.
Erving said he does not mind being approached in the airport for conversations he describes as typically “pleasant” and “joyful.” He still is a compelling media and entertainment subject, with the Prime Video docuseries Soul Power about the ABA, in which he is prominently featured, premiering earlier this month.
And at last weekend’s NBA All-Star Game in suburban Los Angeles, Erving sat courtside with Barack and Michelle Obama. It was the third time he had met the former president, Erving said, including at a planned White House visit and an impromptu crossing of paths on a Washington golf course.
“He told me about growing up in Hawaii and admiring my style of basketball,” Erving said. “The things that I brought to the game. That I was a contributor, not a taker. And that helped to inspire him because he was still in high school.
“It was quite a thing to hear from someone who is as accomplished as he is and loved and admired as he is.”
Erving’s public life still regularly brings him to Sixers home games. He said his palms no longer begin sweating when a matchup gets tight and that he can now view the action as more of an outside critic. Though he calls interactions with the current iteration of the Sixers “sporadic,” he has formed a friendship with coach Nick Nurse and has participated in some of the coach’s foundation events in his home state of Iowa.
“He’s a super gracious person,” Nurse said.
And Erving’s nonbasketball life? He said that is “on the rebound.”
“I’m happy about that,” Erving said. “And deserving.”
He publicly shared some of the more vulnerable experiences — including his infidelity and the accidental drowning of his son, Cory — in his 2013 autobiography he said was written to be passed along to future generations of family. There are other private moments that Richardson knows about Erving that he said he will “go to my grave with. I don’t even share with my family.”
“I sense him being a little bit more guarded,” Richardson said. “When I see him doing that, that lets me know that I need to be a little bit more guarded, too.”
Last year, Erving had a “big” party in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., for his 75th birthday, the more commonly celebrated milestone. This year, he wanted to keep the hoopla a bit quieter. But he understands this age’s endearing parallel with his NBA franchise.
So he rang the bell before Thursday’s game and received a custom portrait during a first-half timeout. Later, he was up in a suite with a cake with candles shaped like the number 76, before the home crowd was encouraged to sing along to “Happy Birthday.”
Yet about an hour before those festivities began, Erving dipped into a quiet, back-of-house room. He held a notebook while reminiscing about his legendary career with the Sixers and this stage of his life.
That is where he can keep writing each morning, while looking forward to 76 and beyond.
“I want to put my focus on keeping the carrot out in front,” Erving said, “and tomorrow being the best day of my life.”
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