Come See About Junior

One of the lessons I learned during my 365 days in Vietnam was to expect the unexpected. That might explain why I wasn’t too surprised when I joined a pickup basketball game in South Madison in 1976 to find a member of the NBA’s Milwaukee Bucks on the court. His name was Junior Bridgeman—I’d already seen him play a little during his rookie year with the Bucks—but what in the heck was he doing at Penn Park in Madison? And was I going to shoot hoops with an elite NBA athlete?

But first I’d have to wait my turn. In the grand tradition of playground hoops, you had to wait your turn to play winners. There was a group of guys already ahead of me and my ragtag squad, so we had to wait our chance. Junior was easily the best player on the court, but he kept passing to the other guys on his team, encouraging them, and giving basketball tips to the growing crowd of youngsters filling Penn Park to get a look at him. In fact, he was passing the ball too much, so much so that his team lost the game!

Next thing I knew, Junior was sitting next to me, signing autographs and talking up the benefits of getting an education. Turns out he’d made the Dean’s List every semester at his alma mater, Louisville University, and had just enrolled in law school at UW-Madison. Hence his reason for his being here this summer.

At some point, I mentioned to Junior that I had been accepted in law school after my college graduation but lost my student deferment and been drafted.

“Did you go back to law school after your service?” he asked me, apparently genuinely interested in my career choice.

“Vietnam soured me on law school,” I told him, “so I went back to school and got a Masters in English instead.”

“Good for you.” Junior smiled. “Are you a teacher?”

I smiled back and explained to Junior that I was working at a place called Vets House a few blocks from there, doing what I could to help Vietnam vets get their lives back together.

He let out a whistle, “Man, that’s impressive.”

Before I could thank him, it was my team’s time to play. We lost our game, so I never did get to play on the same court at the same time alongside Junior. I’d swing by Penn Park on weekends the rest of that summer, hoping to spot Junior on the court. Never did see him there again.

But I did get Junior’s autograph for my daughter years later and spent a lot of time driving back and forth to Milwaukee to watch his very good Bucks’ teams contend for an NBA title that was always just out of reach. He might have worn Number 2, but Junior was always number one in my book.

And now, at a young 71, he’s gone, all too suddenly.

Junior’s life after basketball was marked by one successful entrepreneurial enterprise after another, including ownership of Ebony and Jet magazines and a ten percent share of his beloved Bucks. He was an investor in NBA Africa too. Even better, Junior served as a mentor to generations of NBA players and athletes eager to learn what it takes to thrive in the business world.

Ulysses Lee Bridgeman Jr. was in a class by himself. I’ll always remember his holding “class” that Saturday at Penn Park, exhorting young men to get an education. And encouraging a Vietnam veteran like myself to keep helping others.

RIP Number 2.

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Vietnam veteran Doug Bradley is the author of Who’ll Stop the Rain: Respect, Remembrance, and Reconciliation in Post-Vietnam America, co-author with Craig Werner of We Gotta Get Out of This Place: The Soundtrack of the Vietnam War, which was named best music book of 2015 by Rolling Stone magazine, and DEROS Vietnam: Dispatches from the Air-Conditioned Jungle, now available as an audiobook. His music-based memoir, The Tracks of My Years, will be released by Legacy Book Press in 2025.