Big Man, Big Heart

By the time he was eight years old, Shaquille O’Neal had already made the purposeful decision to anoint himself the center of attention. Call it a preemptive strike. Shaq understood his imposing size welcomed scrutiny that was unavoidable, and often exceedingly cruel. When he was six, they were already referring to him as Bigfoot. As he kept growing, the monikers became more callous, as a wounded O’Neal fought back tears. Although his massive frame suggested an air of invincibility, the opposite was true. Shaq was an extremely sensitive kid, thirsty for acceptance.

It was a struggle in those early years to absorb the catcalls without losing his composure. Shaquille was mercurial, reactionary, and sometimes responded with his fists. But that was not sustainable, since his own punishment was a thrashing at the hands of his strict, military-trained stepfather. The better solution was to disarm his would-be foils with humor and even a little mischief. So Shaq morphed into the class clown, instigating a spitball fight in the classroom and pulling pranks on his teammates in the locker room. He was 6 foot 8 by the time he reached middle school, a growth spurt so rapid that his aching knees throbbed at all hours of the day.

This is how one of the most dominating—and entertaining—centers of all-time evolved into an NBA Rookie of the Year, league MVP, 15-time All-star, 3-time Finals MVP, 4-time NBA champion, and a first-ballot Hall of Famer.

Rising Up
Long before the trophies, Shaq had a vision of what he wanted to become. He wasn’t satisfied with just shattering backboards. He didn’t just want to be Wilt Chamberlain. He wanted to be Superman and Biggie Smalls, Richard Pryor and DJ Carl Cox. These were his dreams as a boy in the projects of Newark, where drug dealers patrolled the streets, and his family struggled to put anything beyond ramen noodles on the table. One day, he promised himself, things would be different—he’d drive a Bentley and give back to other kids in the streets who needed it most.

“Shaq wasn’t satisfied with just shattering backboards. He wanted to be Superman, Biggie, and Richard Pryor.”


The bigger Shaq became, the louder his haters got. In high school, Shaq was 7 feet tall and towering over his opponents. He spent his junior and senior years at Cole (TX) High, silencing “Freakille” chants with rim rattling dunks, a state championship, and a 68-1 record over two seasons. He encountered shocking acts of racism, including passing a scarecrow in a field wearing his jersey en route to a game in rural Texas. The scarecrow also wore a noose around its neck.

For all of his dominance, validation still proved elusive. Shaq spent three seasons at LSU, but the team was unable to win an NCAA championship with him as their linchpin. In his final college game in March of 1992 against Indiana, Shaq put up 36 points, 12 rebounds and 5 blocks. But the Hoosiers prevailed 89-79. Never mind that Shaq scored 27 points in the second half, or that he was 12 for 12 from the free throw line. O’Neal took the heat and the blame. It was the curse of the big man, something that Hakeem Olajuwon, one of O’Neal’s childhood idols, encountered when he led the University of Houston to three Final Fours, but failed to win a championship.

The Big Diesel
If college left questions, the NBA would demand answers. In 1992 Shaq announced he was going pro. He was so coveted that multiple teams stashed a Shaq jersey under the table during the draft lottery, just in case. The Orlando Magic were the lucky winners of the Shaq sweepstakes.

In 1994–95, his third season with Orlando, Shaq averaged 29 points 11 rebounds, 2 blocks and finished as runner-up in MVP voting to David Robinson. Just call me The Big Diesel, he suggested. Shaq and Penny Hardaway then knocked off the Chicago Bulls and Michael Jordan, who had just returned from a sabbatical in baseball, in the Eastern Conference Semifinals.

The Big Diesel was convinced his team could conquer Olajuwon and the Houston Rockets in the Finals, but, in retrospect, he admits, youth and inexperience got the best of him. During eight days off, instead of hunkering down with film of Olajuwon, Shaq and his teammates went to Atlanta to party. The city of Orlando arranged for a parade before the Finals even started. It all backfired spectacularly when the Rockets swept the Magic.

In Shaq’s final season with Orlando, 1995–96, the team was swept again, this time in the Eastern Conference Finals by a rejuvenated Jordan, who led his team to 72 regular season wins—and yet another championship.

Showtime 2.0
Shaq’s contract was up, and while it was no secret that the Lakers wanted the big man, Shaq had fallen in love with Orlando. He was willing to stay. But his contract talks morphed into public and antagonistic negotiations. After Alonzo Mourning signed a seven-year, $105 million dollar deal with the Miami Heat, Shaq’s camp asked for $115 million. The Orlando Sentinel, ran a poll asking if O’Neal was worth $115 million. An overwhelming 91 percent answered, “No.” The results stung Shaq, who was in Atlanta training with the Olympic team. His USA teammates mercilessly ribbed him that even his own fan base didn’t want him.

In Orlando Shaq became a star. In Los Angeles he would need to become a champion. The Lakers traded for Kobe Bryant and signed Shaq in the summer of 1996, but it was no quick fix. In 1997–98, Los Angeles won 61 games, but the Utah Jazz, led by Karl Malone and John Stockton, swept the Lakers in the Western Conference Finals. Shaq averaged 30 points, 10 boards and 3 blocks in the playoffs, but nobody cared. The next season, the Lakers were swept in the Western Semis, this time by the Spurs and emerging star Tim Duncan. As Duncan’s career was ascending, Shaq was fending off the most derogatory nickname of all: choker.

“Under Jackson, he averaged 40 minutes a game. He was also named league MVP.”

Shaq didn’t need more talent. He needed guidance. In 1999 his salvation came by way of new coach Phil Jackson, the Zen Master, who helped O’Neal sharpen his focus into the singular goal of winning a championship. Jackson challenged Shaq to average 40+ minutes a game, as Wilt once had. Their relationship was built on trust and brutal honesty. Jackson informed Shaq he was too thin-skinned. He instructed him to shore up mentally, and to learn to control his emotions, like the Man of Steel.

Jackson had done his homework. He knew Shaq grew up poor. He referenced Shaq’s childhood adversity to challenge him. When chaos envelops you, go to your “safe place” and block out the noise, Jackson told him. Mental discipline was every bit as critical as the physical domination that Shaq had already exhibited. In 1999–00, Shaq’s first year under Jackson, he averaged 40 minutes a game. He was also named league MVP.

As Jackson predicted, chaos arrived when the heavily favored Lakers fell behind the Portland Trailblazers by 15 points in the fourth quarter of Game 7 of the 2000 Western Conference Finals. During a time out, as frustrated Lakers fans rained boos on their team, O’Neal channeled his inner zen and visualized one thing—ramming the ball through the hoop. He emerged with a monster dunk, which kicked off a 15–0 Lakers run. The exclamation point was a lob from Kobe to Shaq that brought down the house. The Blazers were toast, and Shaq earned his first ring by leading LA past the Indiana Pacers in the Finals. That postseason he averaged 30 points and 15 rebounds.

Two more championships followed. Shaq was in charge of his own narrative now. After eviscerating foreign big men Arvydas Sabonis and Rik Smits in succession, he cast himself the Big Deporter. When he added an academic degree to his portfolio, he dubbed himself the Big Aristotle. In describing his unusually agile feet for a man his size, he coined himself the Big Baryshnikov.

But even at the height of the Lakers’ dominance, staying on top was just as hard as getting there. With Kobe emerging as a superstar in the prime of his career, the spotlight they shared sparked escalating tension between he and Shaq. Jackson left the Lakers in 2004 following a salary dispute and O’Neal soon followed, accepting a trade to the Miami Heat, where he joined a young Dwyane Wade. Shaq nicknamed Wade “Flash” and set about helping the blossoming young guard capture his first ring. He got it done in 2006, his first season with the Heat.

Shaq’s final NBA stops included Phoenix (the Big Cactus), Cleveland (the Big Facilitator) and Boston (the Big Shamrock). When he finally hung it up, the Lakers, Heat, and Magic all retired his number.

The Big Humanitarian
The same kid who once fought for acceptance found a different way to be seen. While he continues to expand his growing business empire (an estimated worth of $500 million), Shaq shares his wealth with underprivileged kids. He patrols the aisles of Walmart and chooses random children to pick out their most fervent desire. He gives away laptops to inner-city kids. Shaq has paid for the funerals of children lost in a house fire. He brought in trucks of snow from Bear Mountain for a boy in California, who, when asked by Shaq-a-Claus what he wanted for Christmas, lamented, “All I want is to see snow, and my mom says we can’t afford that.”

Shaq remembers those days, when his family went without. He recalls the time his stepfather gave a homeless man the cash that was supposed to pay for Shaq’s lunch. Give back, even when you don’t have much. That’s how he was raised. Now that he has more than he could ever need, O’Neal shares it with young kids who have dreams of their own. As a boy, Shaq found himself the center of attention and learned to survive the spotlight. As a man, he uses that spotlight to lift others into it.