Break Up Your Band

A blog about cataloguing and dissecting the best music of the 1990s (mostly).

John Frusciante is a writer/performer living in NYC. His writing about music and comedy has appeared on AmplifierMagazine.com, The Onion News Network, Cracked.com, etc. He can frequently be seen at the UCB Theatre, where he is the Artistic Associate. He has the same name as--but is not the same person as--the guitarist for the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
I’ve never talked about this, because what reason would I ever have had to talk about this? In what I believe was the Summer of 2001 I flew down to Miami, Florida with my then-girlfriend to attend the wedding of her older sister to a very tall NBA player named Dwayne Schintzius. My memories of this whole time period are very fuzzy, but I recall hanging out with him a few times including spending some time at their house and visiting the chain restaurant they’d opened together in Ybor City. I remember the wedding reception: a lot more very tall men dancing with the kinds of tanned and enhanced women you’d expect to see populating Miami. At the time Dwayne was in-between teams and looking to play again. He was a nice guy, funny, easy-going, again that’s based on only several interactions with him but he always seemed like a good person. The marriage didn’t last very long after that, but neither did my relationship with that girlfriend. 
I was saddened in a way that I couldn’t quite figure out when I heard about Dwayne’s passing. I hadn’t seen or spoken to him since that weekend and there is no way in hell he would’ve remembered who I was without a lot of explanation, but there’s something about the too-soon passing of someone that I tangentially knew in real life that makes it feel closer than if I’d just heard about any other athlete succumbing to leukemia.
So, RIP Dwayne.


I’ve never talked about this, because what reason would I ever have had to talk about this? In what I believe was the Summer of 2001 I flew down to Miami, Florida with my then-girlfriend to attend the wedding of her older sister to a very tall NBA player named Dwayne Schintzius. My memories of this whole time period are very fuzzy, but I recall hanging out with him a few times including spending some time at their house and visiting the chain restaurant they’d opened together in Ybor City. I remember the wedding reception: a lot more very tall men dancing with the kinds of tanned and enhanced women you’d expect to see populating Miami. At the time Dwayne was in-between teams and looking to play again. He was a nice guy, funny, easy-going, again that’s based on only several interactions with him but he always seemed like a good person. The marriage didn’t last very long after that, but neither did my relationship with that girlfriend. 

I was saddened in a way that I couldn’t quite figure out when I heard about Dwayne’s passing. I hadn’t seen or spoken to him since that weekend and there is no way in hell he would’ve remembered who I was without a lot of explanation, but there’s something about the too-soon passing of someone that I tangentially knew in real life that makes it feel closer than if I’d just heard about any other athlete succumbing to leukemia.

So, RIP Dwayne.

  1. breakupyourband posted this