Police found a dead man, a Quinton Ross from Queens, in a shallow grave in Far Rockaway, New York today. The New York Post reports he was stuffed in a trash bag, and he was allegedly being chased by some men over money.
The Post initially reported that this was Quinton Ross, former New Jersey Net and Los Angeles Clipper, a 32-year-old 6'6" shooting guard who last played pro basketball in Europe. The way the report was written up initially, it appeared he'd been killed because he wouldn't give up some of his NBA money to hangers-on.
Word got around quickly: Quinton Ross, now a trending topic on Twitter, was dead in a bag in a shallow grave.
Turns out that wasn't true. A Quinton Ross was dead, but it wasn't that Quinton Ross.
Quinton Ross, the NBA player, instead got the full treatment. Somebody dug up a compilation of steals and breakaway dunks on Youtube. Pretty good defender, that Quinton Ross, and for a few minutes there, he was a great one! Quinton Ross was an underrated Grizzly and a borderline legendary Clipper for ten minutes, while he was dead.
Then, alas, he was alive again, so we won't soon remember how good Quinton Ross was in the passing lane. The thrill was gone.
None of this changes that there is still, in fact, a dead man in a bag in Far Rockaway, New York.
Is there a different way to do all of this? Is there a way to express fondness for a public figure who has lived a life we find upstanding or honest — or at least constructive in an impractical way, like the undead Quinton Ross — while he can still hear it?
This is not the age old question. I'm not talking about everyone. (And I'm not talking about a living funeral. This is not a Tuesdays With Morrie situation. We do not need a festival for defensive swingmen of the NBA.)
But if we're going to be building immediate monuments to all dead famous men, might we do it to some who are living, too?
We do not canonize anyone who did it right six or seven years ago. We allow for collective praise of famous men who have just dropped a single, or who have just set the world record, or who are recently engaged or pregnant or gay or bereaved. We encourage acclaim for those who have died in ways we would not want to.
But we don't revisit those whom we misrepresented or underrepresented or were never otherwise afforded the retrospection they deserve.
I mean, Biz Markie — that guy was great, right? He's not dead. Hopefully he's not close to dead. But he was pretty great there for a while. Nobody really talks about Biz Markie.
See how weird it is that I brought Biz Markie up right there?
How do we make it so it isn't? Is it this simple? If I were to say that tomorrow is the day we remember Biz Markie, and that he wouldn't have to die for all of us to remember Biz Markie, and that would allow us to make puns about Biz Markie, and we could say he's just a friend, all of us, would you join me?
If we're not going to talk about Quinton Ross just because he wasn't in the NBA, let's talk about people who are making our days better while they can still hear it.
