Earl Cureton was the embodiment of selflessness.

A University of Detroit standout and a two-time NBA champion, the Motown native was a selfless teammate and a selfless friend who always put others people first and always looked you in the eye, and always shook your hand in a way that you knew he meant it. He loved to laugh and people around him loved him to be laughing.

Earl’s generosity of spirit expressed itself in a number of ways, whether it was doing charity work, his own work ethic or opening up about his struggles to survive as as a pro hoops journeyman. He bared himself so that it might help those with similar challenges. With his sudden death last Sunday at the age of 66, I feel a personal loss that I am at pains to explain.

I started watching Earl when I was in law school at the University of Michigan. Although the 1978-’79 college basketball season was dominated by the otherworldly talents of Magic Johnson and Larry Bird, I was drawn to the University of Detroit, a small school that made the NCAA tournament behind the extraordinary athleticism of a 6-foot-9 junior forward nicknamed "The Twirl."

Scouts were unimpressed. It wasn’t until the third round of the 1979 NBA draft that Earl was chosen by my hometown team, the Philadelphia 76ers. His rookie season, he reported to a strong squad with 11 players all but guaranteed. There was one opening. And Earl, the 58th overall draft pick with limited offensive skills, got it.

Though mainly a reserve, he was an integral part of my all-time favorite NBA team, the 1982-83 Sixers. His teammates included two future Hall of Famers: Julius Erving and the newly acquired Moses Malone, whom Earl dubbed Al Capone Malone. "He steals basketball games," Earl would say.

The Sixers, who had lost to the Los Angeles Lakers in the 1982 NBA Finals, earned a rematch the following year. In Game 2, with the 76ers up, 1–0, in the series, Earl subbed for Malone, who was in foul trouble. The pivotal moment came when "The Twirl" muscled his way into the paint, with Lakers great Kareem Abdul-Jabbar on his back. The ball was passed to Earl, who spun and lobbed a skyhook over the 7-2 center who popularized the move, sinking it. Philly got through 17 minutes without its league MVP, and went on to win the contest, 103-93, and swept L.A.

After three seasons in Philly, Earl bounced around the pros like a game ball on parquet — a journey that included three seasons with the Pistons (1983-85) and another NBA championship run with Houston (1993-94). During a 17-year career he played for seven NBA franchises and top-line teams in Italy, France, Venezuela, Mexico and Argentina.

When I joined the Pistons organization in 2015, Earl was already serving as a community ambassador for the team. He was a force in the organization by dint of an irrepressible personality that conveyed a keen intelligence, street smarts and a wonderful self-mocking sense of humor. A champion of youth in Detroit, Earl attended countless basketball camps, youth events and was an active supporter of Detroit PAL.

Not surprisingly, he was also one of the biggest supporters of preserving and furthering Detroit’s rich basketball history. He served on the board of Ceciliaville at St. Cecilia Church, where he once starred on the court himself, and was a key connection between the city’s legendary players and the future generations of basketball talent.

Earl cherished his wife, Judith, and daughter, Sari. As proud as he was of that playoff skyhook, he was even prouder that Sari graduated from Georgetown University.

Detroit has lost a basketball legend who commanded our attention and was deeply loved. And I’m not ashamed to admit that I feel a tremendous grief over it.

Arn Tellem is the vice chairman of the Pistons and spent 34 years as an NBA player agent.

This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: Arn Tellem: Detroit lost Earl Cureton, a champ in basketball, and life