Ex-NBA player Chris Herren told his personal story to a crowd at Jamestown High School’s Merton P. Corwin Auditorium on Thursday night. P-J photo by Scott Kindberg

Chris Herren knows which alumnus draws the most attention when a visitor walks through the halls of Durfee High School in Fall River, Massachusetts.

It’s Chris Herren (Class of 1994).

“I’m very recognizable through uniforms and trophies and banners,” the former McDonald’s All-American basketball legend says as he talks into a microphone and looks out over the people seated in the Merton P. Corwin Auditorium at Jamestown High School on Thursday night.

The 46-year-old pauses before continuing.

“But I just don’t understand why there wasn’t an adult in my life that walked up to me, grabbed me by my shirt, sat me down, got knee to knee with me and said, ‘You are really good at scoring a lot of points in front of a lot of people, but why in the world can’t you have fun on a Friday night with five kids you’ve known your whole life without doing drugs or alcohol?’

Patrick Smeraldo of Collaborative Children’s Solutions, far right, speaks with ex-NBA player Chris Herren prior to Herren’s talk at Jamestown High School on Thursday. At left are Smeraldo’s wife Jill, and son, Nick. P-J photo by Scott Kindberg

“I was always encouraged to be a beast on the basketball court. I wasn’t ever encouraged to be a beast socially, to be a beast emotionally and, sadly, in 2022 we’re still not focusing on it.”

Instead, the wrong kind of beast took over Herren’s life.

And for 14 years — from age 18 to 32 — Herren was an addict, who lived a double life, attempting to be a college and professional basketball player, husband and father while at the same time desperately trying to manage a raging drug habit that nearly cost him his marriage, his children and his life.

Herren’s mission now is to help others not make those same mistakes.

That’s why he spent a day in Jamestown, thanks to presenting sponsor Collaborative Children’s Solutions, where he spoke to JHS students in the afternoon and community members at night.

“I’m unbelievably grateful to do what I do today, and it’s a responsibility I don’t take lightly,” he said to the evening gathering. “There are people in this room in recovery that do the same thing I do. I’ll keep saying how proud I am of recovery. It’s not easy, but it’s something to be celebrated.”

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For more than an hour, Herren laid out his personal story Thursday night. It was one of about 250 talks that he gives annually. In the last 10 years, he’s presented to the Patriots, the Packers, the Cowboys, the Jets and the Giants of the National Football League; the Yankees and Red Sox of Major League Baseball; students at Harvard, Yale, the U.S. Military Academy at West Point; and in prisons.

“I’ve presented in front of almost 2 million kids,” he said. “I truly believe in my heart that I’ve made a difference for some. I do this for many reasons. One, when it comes to addiction, I think we’ve gone horribly wrong with the way we present it to our children. I think we put too much focus on the worst day and we forget the first day. We show our children pictures of drug addicts. We remind them of family members and say, ‘Look what drugs do in the end,’ rather than sitting them down, looking them in the eye and asking them honestly, ‘Why in the world are they letting it begin.'”

For Herren, he wishes it never did.

Drinking and smoking in the woods during high school turned into cocaine use at Boston College, which led to his dismissal after four months due to failed drug tests. Given a second chance at Fresno State by legendary coach Jerry Tarkanian, Herren was named to the All-Western Athletic Conference first team in 1996 and 1997 before announcing that he would need to miss part of the 1997-98 season to seek treatment for a substance use disorder.

“I listened to adults tell their stories (at rehab) and every single night I called my mom and told her I’d never be like those people, that I’m sorry for the heartache and embarrassment I caused her and I begged her to somehow, someway get me out of there,” Herren said. “She wanted me to stay. Thirty days later, I moved (back) to Fresno. In hindsight, at 21 years old, I blew the biggest opportunity of my life.”

Still, Herren was selected with the 33rd pick of the 1998 NBA draft by the Denver Nuggets. That rookie season, he recalled, “was the best I ever had in basketball” because the veterans on the team looked out for him, knowing his substance abuse history.

But upon returning home for the offseason, Herren had a friend introduce him to OxyContin, a habit that grew from 40 milligrams a day to 1,600 milligrams. From $20 daily to $25,000 a month.

“Four months later, when it was time to play in my second season in the NBA with the Denver Nuggets,” Herren said, “I was checking into camp fully (drug) dependent.”

Five days later, he was traded to Boston, a team that he grew up adoring.

“I should have been happy,” Herren said.

Instead, he cried.

Herren hardly remembers the introductory press conference.

“All I could think of was ending it so I could finally get outside (to meet the drug dealer) and put an end to this vicious sickness,” he recalled. “When the press conference ended I did just that.”

The drug purchases weren’t only reserved for after his media responsibilities. Incredibly, Herren was known to buy OxyContin outside the TD Garden minutes before opening tip … in his Celtics’ warmups … in the rain. He also would have the drugs shipped to cities where Boston was scheduled to play.

“After missing planes and embarrassing my family, the Celtics released me,” Herren said.

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Herren, nevertheless, continued chasing his basketball dream in five countries, including Italy, Poland, Turkey, China and Iran. He also continued to chase drugs, ultimately graduating to heroin.

“At 24 years old, I never went back to pills again,” he said.

Eight years later, Herren’s personal “scoreboard” included four overdoses, seven felonies and thoughts of suicide. It was certainly a far cry from when he was Fall River’s favorite son. Instead, he had become a street junkie, the city’s “biggest embarrassment.”

In the midst of another stay at a treatment facility — arranged by former NBA star Chris Mullin after assistance from a local nurse and police officer — Herren returned to Fall River to witness the birth of his third child, Drew, in 2008.

“He was my first sober birth,” Herren said. “I was so proud to be completely present.”

Later that day, there was a knock on the door and in raced 9-year-old Chris and 7-year-old Samantha.

Recalled Herren: “As soon as Chris saw me, he ran, jumped and climbed up and after two minutes of crying on my shoulder he looked up and said, ‘I miss you and I love you. I heard drugs almost killed you. Please don’t die, dad. Please, I want you to be my daddy.'”

Not long after that emotional reunion, Herren decided to leave the hospital to take a walk … straight to the liquor store. Thirty minutes later, he had a needle in his arm.

It was the last straw for his wife, Heather.

“You broke my heart a million times, but this time it’s the last time you break theirs,” Herren recalled her saying. ” … I walked up to Chris and Samantha, I gave them a hug and said goodbye to them. At 32 years old, I had just failed at everything in my life. At 32 years old, fighting thoughts of suicide and no place to go, I jumped in a car and drove back to that (rehab) center having no idea if they’d take me back.”

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Upon returning to the facility in New York, Herren met with his counselor, who suggested that Herren do the following: “Call your wife, say what you need to say and tell her this is the last phone call you’ll ever make to her. … And, before you hang up with her, I want you to explain what we’re going to do, because she needs to sit down with Christopher and Samantha tonight and explain to them that when their daddy left them in the hospital that morning, their daddy died in a car accident. … As your counselor, I could get fired for this, but I want you to play dead for your family. … You’re a no-good, scumbag, junkie who doesn’t deserve to be a dad. They’ll live without you.”

Upon returning to his room at the treatment center, Herren walked up to his bed, dropped to his knees and started praying.

“That day was Aug. 1, 2008,” he said. “That is my sobriety date. I thank God every day for that man’s words.

“Somehow, someway you become grateful for your worst moments. You forgive and you allow yourself to be forgiven. I’ve been given countless gifts. I often have to pinch myself for the life that recovery has given me the last 14 years, but the greatest gift I’ve ever been able to give for the last 14 years is that I’ve been the same dad. For the last 14 years, I’m the dad I wish I had. They know me now.”

Millions of other people have come to know Herren, too, including thousands through his Herren Project, a nonprofit organization that, according to its website, offers a variety of services free of charge including treatment placement, long-term recovery support for individuals and families, financial support for treatment programs and recovery housing as well as a prevention education program for schools and communities; and Herren Wellness, a residential substance use, health and wellness organization for men and women with locations in Massachusetts and Virginia.

“I tell people at my center to be somebody like ‘Murph,'” Herren said. “Murph is the guy Chris Mullin called. Murph arranged to get me help. I wouldn’t have gotten it if it wasn’t for Murph. And then when I relapsed, in the hospital, Murph was the one who called my wife every night and talked to her. My wife will tell you if it wasn’t for Murph, we probably wouldn’t be married today.”

Sadly, Herren never got to meet Murph. Murph died at Penn Station in New York City as he was waiting for a train to take him to Mullin’s Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame induction 10 years ago.

“I never got to hug the man who saved my life,” Herren said. “I never got to talk to the man who saved my marriage, who gave me a chance to be the father I am today.

“From Murph, to the Mullins, to the nurse, to the police officer to the counselors, I’ll never forget that.”

Those in attendance in the Jamestown High School auditorium Thursday evening, won’t likely ever forget the message delivered by the alum from Durfee (Massachusetts) High School, confirming that the words he delivers 250 days a year carry far more impact than any uniform, trophy or banner ever could.