Category: Arizona Cardinals

Netflix has announced an upcoming documentary chronicling the life and career of basketball legend Darrell Griffith, affectionately known as “Dr. Dunkenstein.” Set to premiere on [insert premiere date], the film aims to celebrate Griffith’s remarkable journey from a Louisville high school prodigy to an NBA star with the Utah Jazz.

Rise to Prominence

Darrell Griffith’s basketball journey began in Louisville, Kentucky, where he gained national attention by dunking on ABA legend Artis Gilmore during a high school game. Choosing to stay local, Griffith played for the University of Louisville Cardinals from 1976 to 1980. In his senior year, he led the team to its first NCAA championship, earning the Final Four Most Outstanding Player award and the John Wooden Award as the nation’s top college player.

NBA Career and Legacy

Griffith was selected second overall in the 1980 NBA Draft by the Utah Jazz. He made an immediate impact, winning NBA Rookie of the Year honors. Over his 11-year career, Griffith became known for his scoring ability, including leading the league in three-point shooting during the 1983–84 season. His No. 35 jersey was retired by the Jazz in recognition of his contributions to the team.

Community Impact and Recent Honors

Beyond his basketball achievements, Griffith has remained deeply connected to his Louisville roots. In 2021, the city honored him by unveiling an honorary street sign, designating a portion of Hale Avenue as “Darrell Griffith Avenue.” This tribute recognizes his enduring influence and commitment to the community.

Additionally, Griffith has taken on a role as a university ambassador for the University of Louisville, working to enhance the institution’s profile and support its strategic initiatives.

What to Expect from the Documentary

The Netflix documentary promises to delve into Griffith’s multifaceted life, highlighting his athletic prowess, personal challenges, and lasting impact both on and off the court. Through archival footage, interviews, and personal anecdotes, viewers will gain insight into the man behind the legend. The film aims to inspire audiences by showcasing Griffith’s dedication, resilience, and the profound influence of his journey.

As the premiere date approaches, fans and newcomers alike can look forward to a compelling portrayal of one of basketball’s most influential figures.

Denny Crum turned Louisville basketball into a civic treasure and Freedom Hall into a vibrant landmark of the sport with two national championships, six Final Fours and massively entertaining teams.

Yes, his local standing grew more only hallowed after he left the sideline, an affable and approachable coaching emeritus never far away from the Cardinals in body or spirit, and doing a radio show with his old rival from Kentucky, Joe B. Hall.

Yes, he was a multi-dimensional legend. The national champion who won 675 games and spanned eras. He lost to John Wooden’s last Final Four team at UCLA and beat Mike Krzyzewski’s first Final Four team at Duke. But he also bred horses, collected Louis L’Amour novels and often went off to Idaho to hunt and fish.

Any remembrance of the career of the man who passed away this week at 86 must start with all that. But an intriguing question should be included.

What if Denny Crum had said yes to UCLA back in the 1970s?

How very different might college basketball history have been in two storied places had he gone thataway instead of thisaway when he came to the fork in the road of his career?

Denzel Edwin Crum was a UCLA guard for John Wooden in the 1950s, then a UCLA assistant for Wooden in the late 1960s. Did a lot of recruiting for Wooden, including landing a tall California kid named Bill Walton. And he already had a strong and competitive voice. When the Bruins stormed to another national title in 1971, a curious sidebar was the sight of Wooden and Crum arguing on the bench about substitution strategy. Question the Wizard? In public? Who had the gumption to do that? Wooden threatened to banish Crum to the end of the Bruins bench, but he understood his No. 1 aide was clearly ready to fly away on his own.