Jerry West once told me there are three types of people: floaters, flee-ers and fighters. Floaters drift through life taking things in, but seldom determining their own fate. They can often avoid failure, but the success they achieve is never personally rewarding.
Flee-ers rappel from job to job, avoiding challenge and opportunity. They're the first to cast blame, to make excuses, to point a finger when things don't go their way. They believe that misery needs company.
Fighters have direction. What sets them apart is a goal, a dream, a vision.
Jerry, who died Thursday at the age of 86 , never stopped fighting. He overcame a tumultuous childhood in West Virginia — at age 12, he kept a loaded shotgun under his bed and threatened to use it on his abusive father — and lifelong depression to become a Hall of Fame basketball player, scout, coach and executive who played a formidable role in the evolution of the NBA in general and the Los Angeles Lakers in particular. He was literally an iconic figure: His silhouette is the league logo.
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Over the four decades I knew Jerry, he was a mentor, a trusted advisor, a respected and cherished friend, a giver of wisdom, joy and laughter who made a difference in the lives of others. His most underrated attribute was his strategic vision; his ability to see things clearly with a sense of purpose that steered him when things didn't go as planned.
He was at my house for a barbecue when one of my sons dared him to attempt a 35-foot shot on our backyard court. When the ball clanked off the rim, Jerry declared, "Your basket is four inches too high." He then climbed a ladder, measured it, it was 4 inches too high, adjusted it and proceeded to swish four straight 35-footers.
Perhaps the most endearing thing about Jerry was his vulnerability, which he was never afraid to show. "Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage," he would say. "Truth and courage aren't always comfortable, but they're never weakness." It takes a true fighter to see vulnerability as a sign of strength.
Jerry had an uncanny ability to immerse himself into the thoughts, emotions and experiences of others. He didn't just sympathize from afar; he delved deep, feeling the pain of others as his own. He felt with people, not for them. It's a subtle distinction but one that can be transformative. Genuine empathy can't be faked: If it isn't authentic, it simply won't resonate. And no one resonated quite like Jerry.
There's a profound distinction between merely existing in the world and making a difference in it, as Jerry did. The distinction comes down to principles. Those who make a significant impact don't just float or flee; they live by certain guiding values and wake up with a purpose. As Jerry put it: "Every morning you need to decide what kind of person you are because each day is an opportunity to succeed or fail."
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He loved the story of the Cherokee warrior who tells his grandson, "The battle inside each of us is between two wolves. One is anger, envy, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego. The other is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, generosity, truth and compassion."
The grandson asks, "Which wolf wins?"
The old warrior says, "The one you feed."
For Jerry, success and fulfilment in life depended on which side you fed.
I will miss him.
Detroit Pistons vice chairman Arn Tellem made a name for himself as a player agent in the NBA, and had a longtime professional and personal relationship with all-time great Lakers guard Jerry West, who will be inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame for an unprecedented third time in September for his work as a team executive.
This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: Jerry West's legacy and lessons he taught Detroit Pistons' Arn Tellem

