Dikembe Mutombo diagnosed with brain tumor (I know him!)

I took a French-theater class with this guy in Georgetown (we performed Claudel's La Ville at the French Embassy), and I was called to the stage right after him during our graduation ceremony (what a letdown, right? being the guy who follows Dikembe?):

Basketball Hall of Famer Dikembe Mutombo Being Treated for Brain Tumor

Basketball Hall of Fame inductee Dikembe Mutombo is having treatment for a brain tumor, the NBA said on Saturday.

The former center played 18 seasons in the NBA with six teams, gaining a reputation as one of the league’s greatest shot blockers which earned him the Defensive Player of the Year award four times in his career.

Mutombo’s prime years were spent with the Denver Nuggets, who drafted him in 1991, and Atlanta Hawks—with both teams retiring his number 55 jersey. He also played for Philadelphia 76ers, New Jersey Nets, New York Knicks, and Houston Rockets.

“Dikembe Mutombo is currently undergoing treatment for a brain tumor. He is receiving the best care possible from a collaborative team of specialists in Atlanta and is in great spirits as he begins treatment,” the NBA said in a statement.

“Dikembe and his family ask for privacy during this time so they can focus on his care. They are grateful for your prayers and good wishes.”

The 56-year-old, who stands 7 feet 2 inches tall, was an eight-times All-Star and is second on the all-time list of career blocks. His iconic finger wag after a successful block has been copied by several players.

He is also famous for his humanitarian work, becoming the first person to receive the NBA’s humanitarian award twice, mainly through his work with the Dikembe Mutombo Foundation.

Established in his native Democratic Republic of Congo in 1997 to raise finds for charity, it led to a $29 million, 300-bed hospital dedicated to fighting malaria.

I remember Dikembe as a friendly guy who spoke French with a heavy-but-understandable congolais accent. Hilariously, he was chosen by our professor/director to play the role of a massive angel in the play we were putting on, Paul Claudel's La Ville, which is an allegorical tale of Claudel's conversion to Catholicism, with the titular city representing his soul. As with any theater group, our production had its funny moments, its personality conflicts, its difficulties, and its triumphs. I had to grow my hair long and dress like a punk; I also had to learn to crack a whip. 

Dikembe messed up one of his lines during one of our performances. He was supposed to say—as the angel—that he brought not night but day to the middle of the city. Dikembe accidentally reversed the line and said he was the bringer, not of day, but of night. I think the line works either way, frankly. No one in the audience noticed the gaffe as far as I know, and we were working from an esoteric version of Claudel's script, anyway. 

Dikembe sometimes addressed me as "mon frère" (my brother) in that deep, subterranean voice of his; he was the stereotypical gentle giant, and he had a good sense of humor. I recall shaking his hand when I met him and thinking his hand, though the size of a large plate, was way too soft, as if the bones in his hand moved around a little too easily. But Dikembe was obviously made of tougher stuff: he went on to a successful career playing defense for the Denver Nuggets basketball team, and I think he was the guest of honor at President Bush's 2007 State of the Union address. What have I done, meanwhile? Not much.

When I saw the brain-tumor news, I was shocked, and given my personal relationship with brain tumors (Mom died of brain cancer—glioblastoma), I was saddened. I can't find any information on what kind of tumor it is; if it's glioblastoma, then the likelihood of a not-so-happy ending to Dikembe's story is high. If it's an astrocytoma or other, less aggressive type of brain tumor, then maybe there's hope. I don't know. I'll set up a Google alert so as to get periodic information about Dikembe's condition. I doubt he even remembers me, but I'll monitor his progress from afar. Hell of a thing to happen to a good man.