The Bill is Due

 

When I heard the news that Bill Russell died at the age of 88, I wasn’t sure how to react. Having been schooled in the intracicies of social media mourning, I knew I had to find a picture of me and the Celtic great – and fast. To stand out among the sea of “close friends” and “dear friends” and “big fans” my photo neede to be spectacular. Like me on a milk crate lording over the basketball legend in a mock dunk. Or teaching him about the three-point shot with a diagram and everything.

But it was harder to find than I initially had thought. 

You see, I looked everywhere for it and turned up nothing. The fact that I never met Bill Rusell is probably the reason it wasn’t located in my vast celebrity archive, though I can’t be certain. I just know that the way to grieve in public, especially when the newly departed is famous requires proof you both once shared the same oxygen. You were on equal terms and equaler footing. For this exercise, as little social distancing as possible, the better. 

Nothing says “we knew each other on a intimate level” like the glassy-eyed stare and stiff pose of a public photograph. The arm half-cocked over the shoulder, the inability to pin down where exactly to look and a smile as stitled as a jaded circus performer. These are the telltales of death in the digital age. 

Because with them gone, it’s up to you now to take the reins.

Now there is the option to do nothing in public and simply extend private condolences – if that’s something you are even able to do. But without a valid email or a functioning telephone number, the social montage is the next best thing. 

The alternative to this type of outpourning is a sober, diginified remberance, with statistics and anecdotes about the great man. For someone like Russell there are many. You could say, for instance, that he was the greatest winner in the history of American team sports. That no other athlete will ever come close to approaching his records. He was a Civil Rights icon at a time when it was of the utmost importance.  

You could do that. Since he wasn't on your level in life, why not share a photo of him stooping over in death?