Marty Glickman‘s life was anything but the word he gave to a basketball shot hitting nothing but net: swish.
He was an Olympic runner.
After qualifying for the 1936 Olympics to be a member of the 4x100m Relay team with Sam Stoller, Frank Wycoff and Foy Draper. Other members of the team that year were Jesse Owens and Ralph Metcalfe.
The 1936 Olympics were in Hitler‘s Germany. Anti-semitism was a prominent issue and with Glickman and Stoller being Jewish an issue arose. The day before the race, the two runners were pulled, replaced by Owens and Metcalfe. Glickman’s skills on the track were overshadowed.
He was a college athlete.
Glickman’s abilities on the track allowed for him to be a successful collegiate football. He found his college home at Syracuse University.
There was a story Glickman shared on HBO’s feature about his time at Syracuse. There was a black football player on the team who was not allowed to participate in a game against Maryland. As the situation unfolded Glickman kept telling himself to stand up and say, “if he can’t play than I’m not playing.” As a leader on the team, he felt he should have spoken out, but if he had there would have been no game.
He continued the story with details of this teammate’s life. He had gone on to be one of the Tuskegee Airmen and was killed in action. Glickman said one of the things he regretted was not standing up and speaking out to defend his teammate.
He was a Marine.
Glickman’s service to the United States didn’t stop at being an Olympian. He joined the Marines and served in World War II. He started doing what would define his career while still in the service.
He was a broadcaster.
With an extensive and impressive resume to make him legendary in the sports media world. From baseball to basketball to football games, he covered it. His voice filled the homes of people all across America. His voice was one-of-a-kind and the way he used it to give a play-by-play was something that cannot be repeated.
He created the phraseology for basketball. He made the game stick in the minds of those who were listening; he described the game in such a manner it was embedded into the consciousness of his listeners. It was part of what made him great.
He was a teacher.
Glickman was asked to be a teacher of broadcasting sports for one of the stations he worked at. Broadcasters today know Glickman’s story; some remember their interactions with him. They have attempted to emulate him and if you listen closely to Glickman and some of the play-by-play announcers today you can hear the similarities.
He was a sports guy.
Sports was where Glickman belonged.
In a speech he shared a story about a Japanese runner, Suzuki, that he beat in a race in Paris. He said he could tell that Suzuki liked him based on the look in his eyes. After the race, they shook hands and Glickman saw the friendship in his eyes. They couldn’t speak to one another, but the look and the handshake was words enough.
Glickman would eventually learn that Suzuki was a Japanese soldier in World War II who was killed in action. Glickman weeped for him. Someone he had met once and beat in an international competition impacted him so much that he cried.
“That’s what athletics, sports can do.”
It can transcend barriers.