Had tried to reach Bret Bearup on Friday for my Saturday column remembering Melvin Turpin. A teammate of Turpin’s at UK, now a front-office executive with the Denver Nuggets, Bret got back to me today with this e-mail:
Hearing about Melvin yesterday was like getting punched in the gut. Dying suddenly, like in a car accident or having a heart attack, is one thing. There isn’t anything anybody can do about that. Suicide….that puts you in a dark place full of unanswered questions. Anybody who has been his friend or has known him asks these questions: why didn’t I know he was feeling this way? What could I have done to help? We all feel a little guilty. Maybe we shouldn’t….but we do. It’s very difficult to reconcile suicide with who we knew him to be….a happy guy with a quick smile who rambled through life.
We came to UK as freshmen together. Oddly, it took Melvin a long time to remember my name, but he remembered fellow freshmen Jim Masters’ and Dickys’ name from the beginning. That first summer in the weight room, he weighed in at 199, me at 212. He was a stick, spindly.








