Raymond Lewis: L.A. Legend

This up-tempo doc looks at the tragic tale of one of the greatest ballers never to play in an NBA game.

Every sport has its mythology about the greatest players who never made it in the big leagues. In basketball, there is Len Bias, Greg Oden and a host of streetball hoopsters who either never played a game in the NBA or were considered a bust.

Raymond Lewis may have a legitimate shot at the title for non-NBA GOAT. He led his high school team to three straight state championships in successfully higher classifications, averaged 40 points a game in college one season, was an early developer of the crossover dribble and once scored 73 points in a Division I game.

But through combination of arrogance, bad luck and some straight-up blackballing by the NBA powers-that-be, he never played in a single game — despite being drafted in the first round.

That’s the compelling story behind “Raymond Lewis: L.A. Legend,” directed by Ryan Polomski. This up-tempo documentary takes us through the rise, fall and tragically short life of Lewis, who died at age 48 in 2001 — broke, forgotten and hooked on drugs.

Despite the lack of copious interview footage with Lewis himself, the doc gathers extensive interviews with everyone who can talk authoritatively about him: ex-coaches, teammates, family members, college coaches, NBA players and coaches, hoops historians and more.

Among those who weigh in are Reggie Theus, Michael Cooper, Sonny Vaccaro and Jerry Tarkanian. The last, who gave his final interview for this film, utters a hoarse, reverent whisper calling Lewis the best player he ever saw.

Lewis grew up in Watts shortly after the infamous 1965 riots. One of the initiatives the city undertook in its wake was creating the Verbum Dei High School, a Jesuit institution, to give Black youths stability and education. They also had to have athletics, of course, and Caldwell Black was tasked with coaching the basketball team.

Lewis and his friends had grown up hooping, often playing all day long and into the night during summers. Lewis was 6’2” with a graceful, lightning-fast step and a sweet, high-arcing jump shot with virtually unlimited range. By the time he was 15, people were already calling him a star and asking for his autograph.

Things took a sinister turn when it came time for college. Everyone knew Lewis would jump to the NBA as soon as he was able, but were still desperate to have him for a couple of years. He wound up at unheralded Call State Los Angeles, barely winning over Tarkanian’s Long Beach State.

Bob Miller, the coach at Cal State, acknowledges that Lewis received a bright red shiny new Corvette, though he disavows knowledge of exactly where it came from. Before the NCAA tightened oversight, it was common for top stars to receive money and gifts under the table, and in Lewis’ case it was pretty much on the table.

The old jokes about Reggie Miller taking a pay cut when he went from UCLA to the professional league was literally true in Lewis’ case.

The portrait we see of “Ray Lew,” as his closest friends and fans called him, is a young man who’s unassuming but proud. He knows he is the best and doesn’t flaunt it, but he demanded to be respected on and off the court. Lewis knew his due, and wanted it.

He was drafted 18th by the Philadelphia 76ers in 1973, a seemingly plum spot. But they also drafted Doug Collins, a white star fresh off an Olympic gold medal win, with the #1 overall pick, and the team already had a strong roster of guards.

Lewis, no doubt use to be catered to and taken care of during college, negotiated a contract himself without the benefit of an agent or lawyer. When he found out he was making only $50,000 his rookie year, and would have to re-try out for the team each year to keep getting paid, he was incensed — especially when he learned Collins was getting $250,000 per, guaranteed.

To Lewis’ thinking, it was simple: he was better than Collins, as evidenced by the way he continually smoked him in training camp. So he should be paid as much, or more.

So, he simply walked away.

Executives and coaches in the NBA of that era were not used to back-talk and protest walkouts from star players, let alone rookies. So they let Lewis go. When he tried to return the next season, he was expected to bring the ball up and let others shoot. Lewis protested by taking over games, so he was cut.

This went on and on, door slammed everywhere he turned. Lewis tried to join the Utah Stars of the ABA, but literally minutes before he was to take the floor for the first time the Sixers called threatening to sue, so he was pulled.

Surprisingly, most of the team leaders from that day are still around and show up to present their side of things. Though Pat Williams, who took over as Sixers general manager after the drafting of Lewis, gives a cringe, tone-deaf response to why the team acted the way it did.

“We let the world know he Raymond belonged to us. He was our property.”

Seriously, dude…

Coach Gene Shue seems like an amiable guy who liked to approach his players at eye level rather than the old-school top-down, do-as-I-say way. But he talks almost helplessly about the situation, insisting Lewis was given chance after chance, and only wanted to play on his own terms.

That’s probably true. Lewis himself is as much to blame for his situation as they. But it becomes clear that as the years crept by, he was being blackballed by the league. A tryout with the San Antonio Spurs at almost age 30 was his last shot, and he was cut after a few days.

Still, he continued to play ball everywhere he could in L.A., and Lewis’ legend only grew. Matched against recent high NBA draftee Cooper, he embarrassed the youngster so badly the victim still offers a sputtering defense of the epic own.

Family members, including daughter Kamilah Lewis and cousin Michael Lewis, and close friends including Dwight Slaughter give an insight into the emotional toll his slow-motion snubbing took on Lewis. A devoted father and husband, his increasing erratic behavior as his dream was denied eventually pushed his family away.

Through sometimes grainy game footage, we get a glimpse into the greatness of Raymond Lewis, the player. Anyone who’s watched a decent amount of hoops can recognize a supreme talent right away, someone with Ray Allen’s jumper, Michael Jordan’s tenacity and Dr. J’s eerie ability to dribble faster than most players can run.

“Raymond Lewis: L.A. Legend” is the true story of a man who deserved to play basketball at the highest level but, through a combination of hubris and old-boy network pushback, died unfulfilled. It’s a sobering, but often gripping, lesson about the games that take place before and after the whistle is blown.

“Raymond Lewis: L.A. Legend” is available for rental on streaming platforms including Amazon and iTunes.