Cobb: A Biography

Sporting News, The, Nov 28, 1994 by Steve Gietschier

On a beat-up, old bicycle given to him by D'almeida, Lopez peddled to the Gauchos Gym every day after school, like clockwork, and upon waking up early in the morning on weekends. He did his homework in the coach's office, napped in the grandstands and practiced like someone divinely inspired -- shooting hundreds of free throws, dribbling in and out of traffic cones, heaving longrange jumpers over imaginary defenders. "We often needed to open the doors early for him and close them late," D'almeida says. Which amounted to nothing less than a well-placed investment, since Lopez would eventually lead the team in all categories.

It was more of the same at Rice, where Lopez would become its all-time leading scorer and a three-time All-American. "Except Felipe became more of a leader as he got older and learned the language," D'almeida says. "He had this positiveness that just rubbed off on everybody, and he was able to bring any five guys on the court together at any time. He had this way of getting everybody involved in the game and keeping them excited. It was his humility and warmth, I think. He wouldn't just high-five a guy after a great play, he would hug him."

In the largest Dominican pockets of New York City -- in order, Washington Heights in Manhattan; Corona Heights in Queens; Williamsburg in Brooklyn; and the South Bronx -- the basketball-crazy kids on the playgrounds no longer "Wanna be like Mike," but like Felipe.

"All of sudden, you're seeing Latino kids with St. John's caps and sweatshirts," says Ed Silverio, a project director for Alianza Dominicana, a non-profit community center in Washington Heights. "Felipe is so proud of being Dominican and has been such a positive role model, he's meant a lot to us. We love him as much as he loves us. That's why we were hoping and praying he would stay here in New York. But Felipe will not only have a high impact on our community but on Latinos in general. You're going to see more Latino interest in basketball now. (In fact, Channel 41, a Spanish-speaking TV station in New York, will televise St. John's games this season.) We finally have somebody to look up to. We know now we have a chance to be great basketball players."

Strangely, though, in the history of the NBA, there has been only a smattering of Latinos, and no one really to write home about. In recent times: Rolando Blackman (Panamanian); Ramon Rivas and Jose Ortiz (Puerto Ricans); Carl Herrera (Venezuelan); Andres Guibert (Cuban); and seven-foot center Alfredo (Tito) Horford, the lone Dominican, from LaRomana, who has played briefly and ineffectively in three non-consecutive seasons for the Bucks and Bullets. Another Dominican, Louisiana State's Jose Vargas, also from LaRomana, was drafted by Dall s in the second round in 1988 but never played in the NBA.

On the day I visited Lopez at the St. John's campus, a fitlooking, pony-tailed girl, carrying a gym bag, stopped dead in her tracks when I asked her if she knew about Lopez. "You mean Felipe?" she said breathlessly. "Oh, man, I was born in the Dominican! Felipe's everything there. That's all we talk about now. And it's really great. Because all I ever heard from my father while I was growing up was Juan Marichal. Juan Mar-i-chal, Juan Mar-i-chal. I was sick of it. Now it's finally my turn." A twisted smile of sweet revenge suddenly consumed her. "Now I can talk all the time about my boy Felipe Lopez and make my father as sick as he made me."