George Schauer might have been the greatest showman I’ve ever seen.
That is not hyperbole.
Starting in the early 1970s, and through thousands of performances, Schauer spent countless hours entertaining crowds by spinning multiple basketballs and showcasing his incredible dribbling skills.
And what skills they were.
Pete Maravich, after a Cavaliers-Hawks game in 1974, said Schauer was a better ballhandler than him. Remember, Pistol Pete might have been the best ballhandler in NBA history
Boston Celtics legendary coach Red Auerbach agreed, saying Schauer displayed “the greatest ballhandling I’ve ever seen.”
Known as "Crazy George" and later "Generous George," Schauer could spin a basketball on a pen and write a message on a piece of paper — while the ball was still spinning. He could keep a dozen balls spinning at once and also spin balls while riding a unicycle.
He was a regular part of my childhood, as I first saw his act at Camp Greylock, where I spent my summers from 1988-93.
On Thursday morning, I got a message from Jimmy Mason, the camp's longtime athletic director, saying Schauer had died last month in Texas at the age of 72. He was remembered Wednesday in a celebration of life by the Texas Legends of the NBA G League, where he worked as an ambassador.
I felt the loss immediately and thought to myself, “I have to make sure everyone who saw him perform knows he passed away.”
Because in his thousands of performances, even if they were only an hour, he touched all of us.
It wasn’t just Schauer's skills. It was his messages.
He was straight to the point and would say things to kids that their parents would say.
“Shoot basketballs, not people" was one of his lines.
He had a basketball card he handed out with a photo of him on the front. On the back was a contract for kids to commit to not do drugs, drink or smoke cigarettes. Schauer's mother, a longtime smoker, died in 1992.
He was the only guy who spun a basketball on a toothbrush and called kids out of the audience to brush their teeth.
Schauer also had the best giveaways. In the early days of licensing, he had wristbands with NBA players numbers on them. I remember when my fellow camp mate Adam Shopkorn hit a shot, he won a "Shaq Attaq" shirt and basketball.
He loved being "Crazy George."
Schauer was born in Wickliffe, Ohio, a small Cleveland suburb that someone once joked “even Rand McNally would have trouble finding.”
Always a salesman, he would sell Cleveland Plain-Dealer subscriptions by moving the sports section to the front. When he was selling household products door-to-door for Fuller, he would spin the basketball while the home owner opened the door.
After graduating high school, Schauer convinced Bill Musselman, the coach of Ashland University in Ohio, to give him a spot on the team and have him perform at games.
When Musselman went to coach at the University of Minnesota, Schauer followed him as the worst player on the team. It was a fun time to sit on the bench.
In 1973, the Golden Gophers went 21-5, eventually losing to Alabama in the NIT. One of Schauer's teammate was a guy named David Winfield.
While Schauer had no peers handling the ball, he was not the greatest shooter. He played in three games that season and went 0-for-1 from the field.
During his senior year, the Golden Gophers were up by 30 on Illinois on Feb. 11, 1974, and Schauer came in and scored his first and only points. The AP story headline read, "Gophers Rout Illini; Even Schauer Scores."
Where Schauer really scored, however, was in his lasting impact on young lives.
Crazy George used to write the amount of people who saw him perform during his 43 years with the goal of making at least 1 million kids smile. He did that easily.
Because Schauer didn't play significant time for a college team likely means there won't be many obituaries out there, and I owed it to him to tell his story one final time.
Darren Rovell is the founder of cllct and one of the country's leading reporters on the collectibles market. He previously worked for ESPN, CNBC and The Action Network.