The Birdman of Razzmatazz has returned.
A couple of 11-year-old youngsters stuck out among the clientele (hardly any) observing the Nuggets game for the reason that their bared chests and innocent faces had been painted powder blue, bright yellow and snow white.
Boys, the playoffs are over, and the regular season has not begun. This is just the preseason.
Nevertheless, their youthful exuberance could be forgiven on Friday night. The Nuggets were back in town.
Just as Chris Andersen would have been absolved if his face had been smeared, The Joker-like, in blue, yellow and white. Basketball is back in his life.
“Chris has been waiting for this game for two months, ever since we talked about re-creating his career,” George Karl said.
Andersen later corrected his new coach. “I’ve been waiting for this game for two years.”
Forty-five minutes after the Nuggets’ opening exhibition, Andersen was standing by the court at The Can, talking to friends, refusing to leave and laughing like The Joker.
In 18 minutes, Andersen hit 5-of-7 shots, including his first-ever pro 3-pointer, and sank a free throw for 12 points, grabbed 11 rebounds, blocked two shots, ran the floor, played defense and caused havoc for the Minnesota Timberwolves.
“It felt so good to be back here with the Nuggets, to be playing again, to show people that I can still play.”
Last week I saw Chris driving a used (economy) car away from a gas station. He was listening to the radio and singing . . . like a bird.
At 30 he is a free bird.
“Yes, sir,” he says.
“You don’t have to call me sir,” I say.
“I was raised in Texas to be respectful,” he says.
In central Texas — Iola, to be exact — where the population peaked at 500 in 1936, and where Chris Andersen grew up to play high school ball and grew up to be 6-feet-10 and grew up to be the favorite son . . . until 2006.
After dropping out of the University of Houston and playing for a while at Blinn (Texas) Junior College, Andersen wasn’t a blip in the 1999 NBA draft. In a road less traveled, he went off to the Chinese Basketball Association to play two seasons with Jiangsu Nangang, then was with the New Mexico Slam and the Fargo-Moorhead Beez (teams that might as well have been in the Chinese basketball league).
On Nov. 21, 2001, the woe-begotten Nuggets (27-55) signed the flaky free agent. Andersen averaged 3.0 points in 24 games as the first man on the court, last man off the bench.
But, over the next two seasons, he became beloved in Denver as “The Birdman” because of his wild, whirlwind dunks, followed by the flapping of his arms. He was picked to compete in the slam dunk contest at the 2004 NBA All-Star Game and missed his first eight dunk attempts. The Birdman was the butt of jokes.
On July 19, 2004, Andersen signed a four-year, $14 million contract with the New Orleans Hornets. No joke. The man with the multiple tattoos, flowing hair and gangly body was not a sideshow freak any more. He averaged an honest 7.7 points and 6.1 rebounds as a reserve center/power forward.
On Jan. 27, 2006, Andersen was banned from the league for using nonspecified “drugs of abuse.” Nobody had been kicked out since 1999.
Chris Andersen was no longer the favorite son of Iola . . . or a professional basketeer. He was another stupid athlete who had blown his reputation, his guaranteed riches and, probably, his career.
Andersen continued to play basketball one-on-none. For two years he shot jumpers and dunked without cheers or flapping of arms.
On March 4, 2008, after filing for reinstatement and passing drug tests, Andersen was placed on the Hornets roster, but played in only five regular-season games, scoring six points, and zero postseason games.
“I wasn’t in New Orleans’ rotation. I wasn’t a real part of the team.”
On July 24, 2008, shortly after his 30th birthday, Andersen signed with the Nuggets for the minimum $797,581.
“We thought of him as a high-energy player who could do some good things, but would make some mistakes,” Karl said Friday night. Privately, the Nuggets’ staff believed Andersen might fill in for three- or four-minute stretches.
His first unofficial game arrived, and Andersen had a troublesome bruise behind his knee. But he played the game, and Andersen can play the game. When he dunked from the baseline, Rocky of real life and Rocky the mascot flapped their arms, fans chanted his nickname, and boys with blue, yellow and white paint on their chests and faces watched with wide eyes. When he swished from beyond the arc — he is 0-for-9 in 258 official games — Andersen did a J.R. Smith impression, flashing three fingers. When an obviously tired Andersen jammed another and was taken out of the game in the fourth quarter, he heard the applause — for the first time in a long time — from the 3,000 or so in the arena and was greeted exultantly by his former (three) and new (15) teammates.
Chris Andersen — “make that Birdmann, with two N’s,” he says — was the Nuggets’ homecoming king.
Woody Paige: 303-954-1095 or wpaige@denverpost.com
