Operation Turiaf: Gonzaga family unites

The people of Spokane always knew Ronny Turiaf had a big heart. Little did they think that organ would visit upon them the anxiety they're feeling this morning.

Turiaf, the magnetic Frenchman who spent four compelling seasons at Gonzaga, was to check into Stanford University Medical Center at 5 a.m. today and throw himself at the mercy of a couple of the finest heart surgeons in the world. At issue is the enlarged aorta discovered by Los Angeles Lakers team doctors last week, a deformity deemed to have the potential to kill him if not corrected.

And so yesterday, they began arriving in the Bay Area, some of his people from Gonzaga. Tommy Lloyd, the assistant coach to whom Turiaf was closest, flew in at mid-day. Later in the day, from Las Vegas, where they were scouting high-school talent, came coach Mark Few and assistant coaches Bill Grier and Leon Rice.

Also on hand were Brian Michaelson, a teammate who knows Turiaf best; Steve Hertz, Gonzaga's director of athletic relations, and longtime Gonzaga trainer Steve DeLong.

"I knew I was coming down," Lloyd said late yesterday afternoon. "A couple of days ago, [Few] said, 'Let's all be there the night before. There's no reason for him to be alone.' "

Late tonight, Turiaf's mother is due to arrive from France. In her stead, Turiaf will know that Gonzaga embraces a broad definition of family.

Lloyd spent time with Turiaf yesterday, and the big guy seemed to have the proper grip on things. Where once the extravagance of the NBA held an allure, now the hurdle is simply survival.

"He's saying over and over, 'All I want to do is open my eyes tomorrow afternoon,' " Lloyd said, " 'and I don't care what happens after that.' "

Turiaf was known as a pied piper in Spokane; and now in his darkest hour, they're still trailing after him. Sunday, he was joined at the Angels-Yankees game in Anaheim by two French cronies: San Antonio Spurs guard Tony Parker and Atlanta Hawks big man Boris Diaw. Parker's companion was Eva Longoria, the "Desperate Housewives" diva.

They showed Turiaf on the scoreboard. It might have been the only time a sweaty jock has upstaged Longoria.

Turiaf, gap-toothed and a man of many coifs — dreads, braids or a big, listing Afro — was like that almost from the moment he stepped onto the campus in Spokane. He was beloved for his basketball, but he also represented what we like most in our athletes — he acted like a real person.

He befriended regular students and custodians and secretaries and teachers and cooks. He showed an interest in them, and they found in him more than a guy who averaged 15.9 points and 9.4 rebounds last season.

He wasn't the best Zags player ever, but he's probably the most popular — a stark contrast to the icy stoicism of John Stockton.

"He's just one of those special, special people that has the ability to make people feel special," Lloyd said. "They're given his entire attention, and he's genuine about it."

He did it with a personality that one minute was deeply earnest, the next whimsical and capricious. Three years ago, he discussed how Lloyd had lured him to Spokane, telling him how the winters are "kind of like Paris."

"I'm pretty mad at Tommy," Turiaf said gravely. "Pretty mad."

If he ever was mad, he couldn't stay that way, whether instructing a local grade-school kid in the nuances of the Creole language or sitting in the Gonzaga dugout with a cap turned backward, trying to figure out baseball chatter.

He had an inconsistent senior season, hampered much of it by ankle injuries, and fell to the second round of the NBA draft. But on the Lakers' summer-league team, he had played well, and his high energy had been infectious. He signed a contract that was guaranteed for a year — contingent on passing a physical.

"Then," Lloyd said, "things changed."

Reports last week cited the key to Turiaf's playing future as centering on whether he needs a valve replacement. But yesterday, upon seeing Lloyd again, Turiaf was thinking about other things — asking about the coach's children, wanting to know if Erroll Knight had really lit it up in the gym the other day.

"He's positive, as you can imagine with him," Lloyd said. "He's businesslike at the same time. He knows this isn't about basketball; the stakes are a lot higher.

"I think he's done a good job hunkering down and just dealing with it. I don't think he knows everybody else in the country realizes this [condition], or that it's on the Internet. He's internalized it."

Sixteen months ago, over breakfast at a retro diner on the edge of the Gonzaga campus, he said what he wanted out of his first pro paycheck was a Cadillac Escalade with "24-inch rims and spinners."

Today, what he really wants dearly is just to wake up again. Such a modest goal, and yet so imposing.

Bud Withers: 206-464-8281 or bwithers@seattletimes.com

Cards for Turiaf may be sent to: Gonzaga Men's Basketball c/o Ronny Turiaf Gonzaga University 502 E Boone Spokane, WA 99258. Per NCAA rules, no money or gifts may be sent.