Parkinson’s has robbed Speedy Morris of many things he loves. But not basketball, and all that goes with it.

On a Wednesday night in late January, Speedy Morris rolled into the Kelly Fieldhouse at St. Joseph’s Prep. His daughter, Margaret, pushed his wheelchair right behind the sideline, about five feet from where he spent 19 years coaching.

Morris was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in 2017. His legs, which used to stomp up and down the court, now freeze up. His eyes, which used to pore over game film, have been ravaged by macular degeneration, a disease of the retina. His piercing voice, which used to bellow at referees, is now shallow and soft.

At first, he didn’t want people to see him like this. Morris was one of the greatest — and most colorful — basketball coaches in Philadelphia’s history. He won 1,035 combined collegiate and high school games, eight Catholic League titles, and four MAAC titles, all while giving fans some memorable in-game meltdowns. One time, when he was coaching for Roman Catholic, he threw his blazer out the window and down the fire escape. A few decades later, when he was coaching for La Salle, Morris responded to a turnover by doing a full belly flop on the court.

Now, he was in a wheelchair, watching his body deteriorate in painstakingly small increments. It was not the kind of image he wanted to project, but he has since changed his stance. At 81, Morris is going to multiple Catholic League games a week. He goes to college games, too. It’s provided him stability in an unstable time. Over the last few years, Parkinson’s has robbed him of the ability to coach, a job he had for seven decades, and the ability to go to morning Mass, a staple of his day for six decades.

But it has not robbed him of basketball.

Morris’ mind is as sharp as ever, so, week by week, he dutifully sits on the sideline, quietly analyzing what is unfolding before him. On this particular night, while watching a game against Archbishop Wood, he was not impressed.

“We should be winning,” Morris muttered. “Bad passes. Can’t stop them on defense, either. Not making enough shots.”

After scoring 26 points in the first, the Hawks sputtered in the second and third quarters. They weren’t making their free throws. Sloppy mistakes were starting to pile up.

Morris gently turned his head left and right as the players thundered up and down the court. As the clock dwindled in the fourth, he didn’t clap or cheer. He didn’t smile and didn’t frown. He just took it all in. When the buzzer went off, he slapped his knee.

“We just didn’t have it tonight,” he said. “Too many foul shots missed.”

It wasn’t the outcome he wanted, but the quality of the game didn’t matter. Being there was more important.

“It feels good,” Morris said. “To see people I haven’t seen in a while. It feels good.”

Morris tried to coach through his Parkinson’s but was unable to do it long-term. In his last two seasons with the Prep, the referees couldn’t hear him call for a timeout. It was difficult for him to stand up straight, so he would often lean to one side. He retired in 2020.

It was not an easy transition. Morris began his career at age 17, coaching seventh and eighth graders at St. John the Baptist, his local parish. From that time on, he took only one season off from head coaching (1982). From 1968 to 2020, he coached Roman Catholic, Penn Charter, La Salle University’s women’s and men’s teams, and the Prep.

He misses the games, but he misses practices more. It was there that he got to know his players. The summer after he retired, Morris rented a gym in Manayunk. A few times a month, he ran workouts for his grandsons, all while he was leaning on a walker. Afterward, they’d get lunch at Maria’s in Roxborough, just like he did for his former teams.

His son, Keith, calls this Speedy’s “magic formula.” Basketball was always a conduit to something more important. Sometimes, his players needed a father figure. Sometimes, they needed groceries, or a pep talk, or a ride home.

Whatever it was, Morris gave it to them. He was never the kind of coach who would disappear at the end of the season. For 59 years, it was a yearlong job, with summer workouts and post-practice lunches and phone calls both about basketball and life.

“They would run through a wall because they knew he loved them,” Keith said. “And they loved him back.”

The season before Morris got to the Prep, the Hawks were 6-8 in the Catholic League. They had a reputation for getting off to strong starts and fizzling over the course of the season. When he was hired in 2001, that changed. In his first season, 2001-02, he led the Prep to an 11-3 league record. In his second and third seasons, the Prep went 13-1 en route to back-to-back Catholic League titles.

The team they were up against in the championship — both years — was Cardinal Dougherty, a nationally ranked program that had four Division I players, including future NBA star and new Sixers guard Kyle Lowry. Morris’ teams weren’t as talented but that didn’t matter. Under his guidance, the Prep won their first Catholic League title since 1971.

There are plenty of other examples of Morris getting the most out of his team. When he arrived at La Salle University to coach the women’s basketball team in 1984, they were coming off an 11-18 season. In his first year, he guided them to a 22-8 record. The next year, they made the NCAA Tournament.

In 1986, Morris switched from coaching La Salle’s women to coaching the men. The Explorers went 14-14 the year before, and he promptly delivered a 20-13 record and a trip to the NIT Final in his first season. They went a combined 119-39 over the next five seasons, with four NCAA Tournament berths.

Morris was helped by some NBA-caliber players — notably Tim Legler and Lionel Simmons — but made adjustments to get more out of his talent. His first season with La Salle’s men was the first year the NCAA implemented a three-point line. Morris was skeptical at first — “I hated it,” he said — but quickly realized how it would help his team.

He had his players shoot threes nonstop in practice, and began incorporating the shot into games. In 1986-87, his teams were averaging 12.7 three-point attempts a game. By 1991-92, that jumped to 26.9.

This style of play fit Legler’s game perfectly. He shot 46% from three over his final two seasons with La Salle. Playing under Morris, Simmons scored 3,217 career points, fifth all-time in the NCAA.

“Before he got there, they were OK, but just not good enough,” said Dick Jerardi, who covered La Salle for the Daily News from 1987 to 1995. “They just never could quite get to the finish line, even in their own league. Speedy came in and the success was immediate.

“Yes, the talent level increased. And yes, he had one player who ended up scoring 3,200 points. But he empowered that player to do it.”

Morris’ Roxborough home is packed with memorabilia. He’s received so many awards that his wife, Mimi, has run out of space for them. Each wall is full of photos from his coaching career, along with certificates and other trinkets. There are trophies on almost every table. A few plaques are collecting dust in the basement.

But the item that means the most to Morris sits in his living room. It’s a large book, filled with letters from former players and coaches at every stop. Former NBA power forward Mike Bantom, who played for Morris at Roman, is in there. Minnesota Lynx head coach Cheryl Reeve, who played for Morris at La Salle, is in there. Simmons and Legler are in there, and so is Reggie Redding, now an assistant coach for the Sixers who played for Morris at the Prep.

Speedy and Mimi like to flip through it every once in a while. It’s a reminder of why he coached for 59 years but also a reminder of why he still goes to games today — even games at the Prep, despite some recent controversy between the school and Morris’ family.

Just before he retired, the Prep honored him by placing a “Speedy Morris” sticker right near half-court. It was impossible to miss. They held a ceremony in his honor to unveil it. Morris isn’t one for fanfare, but that was a day he will always remember.

“I was very proud,” he said. “It was big — both ends of the court.”

Last summer, a family member told Keith that the Prep moved the sticker from half-court to the sideline. It is right in front of the coach’s box but far less prominent than it was. Keith was furious, on his father’s behalf. The Morris family says that they were never contacted by the Prep about the change.

In a statement at the time, The Prep said the sticker was “temporary,” but the Morris family says that was never communicated to them, either. When asked about whether The Prep communicated this to the Morris family, a spokesperson provided a statement in place of directly answering the questions.

“St. Joseph’s Prep is proud to have had Speedy Morris as part of our community since 2002,” the statement read. “There are just three things on the floor of the Kelly Fieldhouse: our Hawk logo, our location [17th and Girard], and Speedy Morris’ name. That shows you the high esteem we have for Speedy and all that he accomplished at the Prep. Speedy continues to be a presence at our games and on campus and we hope that continues as long as he is able. He will always have a home at the Prep.”

» READ MORE: Sielski: St. Joe’s Prep shows little respect for Speedy Morris, an all-time great

“They tried to say it was a commemorative thing,” Keith said. “It was a one-game thing. Well, usually if it’s commemorative, it comes off after that night. Why did you keep it on there for four years?

“We’re biased. We’re his family. But that’s not the way a Christian institution should treat a man who is as Christian as this man, who has impacted so many lives.”

Both Keith and Mimi refuse to step foot in Kelly Fieldhouse. Margaret, Speedy’s daughter, will go because her son is a basketball manager on the varsity team.

But Speedy didn’t give it a second thought.

“Well, it’s my school,” he said in an interview in late January. “I should be there, I think.”

“Dad, Roman is your school,” Keith interjected. “That’s where you went to high school.”

“Roman is my school,” Speedy responded, “But so is the Prep.”

As of now, the Prep has not publicly announced any plans to move the sticker back to half-court, but regardless, Morris will keep going to games every other week. He has developed relationships with a few players, like senior guard Matt Gorman. He calls Gorman before most games.

“I like the kids,” Morris said. “I want to support the kids.”

About two years ago, Morris tried to walk into the Palestra. This was a place where he’d had some of his greatest moments as a coach. He wanted to show the world that he was still strong. But as he walked down the tunnel to his floor seats, his legs gave out, and he collapsed. His sons grabbed him before he hit the ground.

They hoisted him on their shoulders and told him that if he wanted to keep going to games, it would have to be in a wheelchair. His first instinct was to resist. But then he realized he could work it to his advantage, just like he’d done decades earlier with the three-pointer.

Morris doesn’t know what will come next. He could lose his eyesight, lose his memory, or both. He could start to experience tremors in his hands and legs. Parkinson’s affects different people in different ways.

But as long as he can be around basketball, he will. The Catholic League boys’ championship final is scheduled for Feb. 26, at the Palestra, and Morris’ handicap spot is ready at the backdoor. That is his way in now. He’ll find a place on the court, not far from where the coaches stand, and he’ll sit in his wheelchair and immerse himself in the game. A legend of the sport, back where he belongs.