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- <text id=93TT1465>
- <title>
- Apr. 19, 1993: On Coming Close, So Close
- </title>
- <history>
- TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993
- Apr. 19, 1993 Los Angeles
- </history>
- <article>
- <source>Time Magazine</source>
- <hdr>
- AMERICAN SCENE, Page 64
- On Coming Close, So Close
- </hdr>
- <body>
- <p>When it really counted, Bobby Shivar's best shot wasn't quite
- worth a million
- </p>
- <p>By CATHY BOOTH/BEULAVILLE
- </p>
- <p> For a few breathless seconds, you are just 19 ft. 9 in.
- away from a million dollars. You're standing on the basketball
- court in the Lakefront Arena in New Orleans, and all you have
- to do is toss the ball through the 18-in. hoop that now seems
- a mile off. The crowd of 6,600 is chanting your name. Your
- wife's counting on you, thinking about a little red sports car.
- Your son, the Nintendo addict, wants a new computer. You'd love
- some cash for your daughter's college education and to buy a
- tractor for yourself. And maybe, just maybe, you could quit your
- $32,000-a-year job as a pipe fitter.
- </p>
- <p> You come out with your arms raised in victory, like Rocky
- Balboa. You bounce the ball three times and, as your heart
- clenches, you shoot--and you know instantly that you've blown
- it. The ball goes left and clangs cruelly off the rim. Your wife
- has tears in her eyes. She'll always remember that she turned
- 42 the day her husband bungled the million-dollar bucket.
- </p>
- <p> So much for the Warholian interlude of a 45-year-old North
- Carolinian named Bobby Shivar, on whom fame and fortune smiled
- very warmly, and all too briefly, last week. As the winner of
- the Gillette 3-Point Challenge promotional campaign, Bobby was
- given $25,000 and flown to the NCAA Final Four weekend in New
- Orleans to take his single--and, as it turned out, not quite
- accurate--shot for a million. Then it all started vanishing
- like a dream. Within days, he was back at work fixing the aging
- steam pipes around Camp Lejeune. Back in his neat three-bedroom
- brick house on a rural lot dotted by a stand of loblolly pines
- and a satellite dish. Back in Beulaville, a town so small that
- wife Vickie jokes, "We just got our second traffic light." Back
- to oblivion. In a week there'd be no more crews from CNN and
- ESPN, no more calls from radio stations in Texas and Tokyo.
- </p>
- <p> "Hey," says Bobby, with a wistful half smile, settling
- back into his favorite lounger. "You win some, you lose some."
- Besides, he confides, "Vickie said she wasn't going to hold it
- against me."
- </p>
- <p> Vickie is the reason he got his chance in the first place.
- She signed him up for the promotion at a local K Mart store
- last year. When the winner's envelope came last August, telling
- him he had beat out 2 million other contestants, Bobby was,
- well, suspicious. "I thought it was a scam," he says. "I told
- Vickie that as long as nobody asked for any credit cards or
- money, I'd go along with it." Although he had never played
- basketball as a kid, he planted a brand-new Slam Dunk hoop in
- his gravel driveway last September and began to practice. Sort
- of. There were interruptions, like hunting season.
- </p>
- <p> He was terrible at first. "I might shoot one or two out of
- 10," he says. "Or sometimes I would miss 10 out of 10."
- Gillette sent down former Boston Celtics star Dave Cowens to
- give him pointers. "Dave says I shoot like a pipe fitter. And
- I do," Bobby concedes with a laugh. "At 45 years old, when
- you're learning to shoot, you feel sorta awkward." Bobby learned
- to push the ball off with one hand instead of throwing it with
- two. And, with Cowens' help, he did improve his average to
- almost 40%.
- </p>
- <p> Practice proved brutal on Bobby's knees, but not nearly as
- brutal as the media attention. Though he had labored from age
- six in his father's tobacco, bean and corn fields, had served
- in Vietnam and had worked on car bodies and pipes for 23 years,
- he had never been through anything quite like the blitz he
- endured last month in New York City. "It just drained me.
- Interview and shoot. Interview and shoot. Interview and shoot,"
- he says, looking dazed at the memory. He heard reporters making
- bets that he'd miss his big shot. "They kept saying, `If you
- win this million dollars, are you gonna move out of that
- swamp?' " he recalls, making fun of his own accent with an
- exaggerated drawl.
- </p>
- <p> Still, Bobby was a quick study. By the time he arrived in
- New Orleans, he seemed to be enjoying himself. He shot baskets
- for morning TV shows, he effortlessly dropped Gillette's name
- during radio interviews, he posed with tourists for photos.
- Vickie, meanwhile, carried his cherished Rawlings basketball
- around in a plastic Wal-Mart bag. Everywhere he went, fans
- recognized him.
- </p>
- <p> At home in Beulaville these days, Vickie says things are
- pretty much back to normal. "Bobby hasn't picked up the
- basketball since we've been back," she says. On the other hand,
- he hasn't chopped up his Slam Dunk board either. After all, it
- just might come in handy: Vickie has entered him in the contest
- again.
- </p>
-
- </body>
- </article>
- </text>
-
-