photograph by wes hale
Ja Morant
I consider myself blessed to have family in several corners of the United States: Vermont, Seattle, New Orleans, and Hawaii. Whenever I visit any of these distinctive regions, one topic invariably comes up: the Memphis Grizzlies. Considering I live a short drive from the second-most visited home in the country, our NBA team being the ice-breaker of choice over Elvis Presley is rather significant. As the Grizzlies celebrate their silver anniversary in the Bluff City, it’s worth noting that we Memphians are as Beale Street Blue as our professional basketball team.
In September 1992 — my rookie “season” with Memphis Magazine — we devoted a cover story to the city’s pursuit of an NFL franchise. The issue included a comprehensive list of reasons Memphis was a perfect fit for the league’s 29th or 30th team, and copies were sent to the NFL commissioner’s office. Alas, today you can cheer on the Carolina Panthers and Jacksonville Jaguars on fall Sundays, and the former Houston Oilers play in Nashville as the Tennessee Titans. But Simmons Bank Liberty Stadium remains a college-only facility. (Go Tigers!) It felt like the best and last chance for Memphis to gain big-league status.
Then Michael Heisley came along. In 2001, the owner of the Vancouver Grizzlies identified Memphis as a better location for his six-year-old franchise to grow, a more attractive region for his team to be fully embraced. (Yes, the promise of a new arena made three seasons in The Pyramid palatable for the move.) In what initially felt like an overnight love affair, a new marriage was announced between Memphis and — can it be? — the National Basketball Association. Honey, we are big-league.
Over the 24 seasons since the Grizzlies’ arrival, the culture of Memphis has changed, if not quite transformed. While the blues, barbecue, and yes, Elvis, remain Mid-South touchstones treasured the world over, “Grit and Grind” are three words virtually every Memphian identifies with a basketball team that has yet to reach the NBA Finals. Three of the “core four” players who took the Grizzlies to the Western Conference final in 2013 — Zach Randolph, Marc Gasol, and Tony Allen — now have their jersey numbers hanging from the rafters at FedExForum. (Mike Conley will certainly join them when his playing career ends.) Public murals featuring Ja Morant — to date, the most electrifying player in franchise history — can be found in multiple parts of the city. Two former coaches — Hubie Brown and Lionel Hollins — have already been inducted into the Memphis Sports Hall of Fame.
Maybe that’s where the Grizzlies have made their deepest impact on Memphis. They — the players, coaches, and much of the front office — feel as much of us as representing us. It’s a “We are them” vibe. And this includes rocky seasons, and rocky headlines.
And we’ve been paying attention. Our June 2015 cover story celebrated the culture of Grizzlies basketball. Shara Clark mentioned a favorite t-shirt she spotted one game night: “God-Family-Grizzlies.” Here in the American South, that’s Biblical stuff. Not once, but twice we’ve named a Grizzly player or players our Memphian of the Year (Gasol in 2015 and the entire team in 2022).
In early May 2013, I was in line at a local computer store to purchase a laptop for my high school-bound daughter. And in walked Allen, “the Grindfather” himself. The Grizzlies had just eliminated the Los Angeles Clippers in the first round of the NBA playoffs on their way to the franchise’s deepest run to date. Wearing no media credential, I was able to approach Allen, amid his small entourage, and congratulate him for the series victory. “I appreciate you,” he replied, with that slight, slanted smile Grizzly fans adore to this day. And then the six-time All-Defensive Team guard got in line behind me for computer service.
Maybe that’s where the Grizzlies have made their deepest impact on Memphis. They — the players, coaches, and much of the front office — feel as much of us as representing us. It’s a “We are them” vibe. And this includes rocky seasons, and rocky headlines. Players have found themselves in legal hot water (Allen is one of them). There is citywide hand-sweating over the possibility of the franchise leaving Memphis if it doesn’t receive the kind of arena renovations a half-billion dollars might buy. And yes, we’d really like to see the NBA Finals played a block from Beale Street. The Grizzlies have won precisely one playoff series over the last ten years.
I’ve walked the streets of New Orleans recently, current home to one of my daughters. It’s an NBA city, sure, but it’s an NFL culture that pervades, the Saints’ iconic fleur-de-lis visible on every block, commercial or residential. Here in Memphis for a quarter-century, now, a grizzly bear is, somehow, the most celebrated animal, symbol, and idea. And what’s more valuable in this age of division and cross-culture clash? We are, indeed, the Memphis Grizzlies. We have the grind marks to prove it.
