Celtics Dynasty (1957-1969) – Page 4

The KC Jones Interview

By: Michael D. McClellan | KC Jones is chilling with family and friends in the backyard, grilling the best ribs in all of New England and living life the way it’s meant to be lived at this stage, with all the winning in the rear-view mirror and countless stories being told and retold, some of them embellished, others restrained, a select few held in perpetuity for an aging and shrinking inner circle who accomplish something on a basketball court that we may never see again. Jones is well aware of the accelerating, relentless pace of time, his mother long ago telling him what he later learns for himself, that life happens in the blink of an eye, the years clicking and clacking down the track, moving faster and faster until the memories become a blur of color where once there had been clearly formed shapes. Wasn’t it just yesterday that Bird and Magic held the world rapt? Go back another decade and Jones is coaching the Washington Bullets in a pair of plaid polyester pants cut high to the waist and flared at the bottoms, his plaid sport coat emblazoned with clashing geometric prints in a hue of muddy brown. That stint doesn’t end well, but back it up a few years and he’s an assistant to Bill Sharman, winning 33-consecutive games and helping deliver that first NBA championship to the City of Angels. Go back farther still, and he’s a muscular, thick-legged, defensive-minded guard who comes off Red Auerbach’s bench until the legend in front of him retires, and then he steps in and forges a legacy of his own.

Push farther, past his two-year military commitment, and you land in Melbourne, where Jones and his 1956 Olympic teammates win the gold medal, scoring over 100 points in five of the eight games and setting a record for margin-of-victory (53.5 points) that still stands today.

Rewind it all the way back to college. KC Jones and Bill Russell are teammates at the University of San Francisco. The Dons will ultimately win 55 straight games and a pair of national championships, but the team is dysfunctional when Jones arrives, seventeen players with seventeen agendas going in seventeen different directions.

“We had talent, but we didn’t have a team,” Jones says. “We lost more games than we should, often to inferior opponents.”

Jones, painfully shy and almost two years older than Russell, struggles with his classes and needs tutors to remain eligible. Things come much more quickly on the basketball court. It helps that his coach, Phil Woolpert, is color blind. Like Auerbach, he doesn’t care if you’re black or white, only that you can play.

Jones’ freshman season is Jekyll-Hyde – his defense consistently excellent, his shooting touch sabotaged by a four-inch growth spurt over the summer. He’s sitting alone in his dorm room at the start of his sophomore year when a tall, rangy freshman introduces himself as his roommate. The connection is immediate. He’s black like Jones, and his family has also moved to the Bay Area from the South.

“Bill came along and changed everything,” says Jones. “It was like getting a breath of fresh air after a challenging freshman year.”

A ruptured appendix derails Jones’ junior season, ending it almost as quickly as it starts. The next two seasons are spent in lockstep with Russell, both of which end with USF winning the national championship. Jones graduates from USF in the spring of 1956 and enlists in the Army later that September. His superiors cut orders allowing him to join Russell in Melbourne, where he wins a gold medal with Team USA.

Back in the States, Jones works as a post office clerk at Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri. He also plays wide receiver on the football team, where he impresses a teammate named John Morrow, who happens to play center for the Los Angeles Rams. Morrow relays word to a young Rams GM named Pete Rozelle, who invites Jones to the Rams’ training camp.

An injury derails Jones’ football career, prompting him to call Red Auerbach. He makes the team in the fall of ‘58. Just like that, Jones finds himself reunited with Russell and coming off the bench for one of the greatest point guards in the game.

“Bob Cousy had tremendous confidence in himself,” says Jones. “He became famous for those behind-the-back passes and the fancy dribbling. Red called the fancy stuff ‘French pastries,’ but Cousy was very successful with it.”

Cousy retires following the ‘63 season. Jones makes the most of his opportunity. He wins eight championships as a player, five as a reserve and three as a starter alongside the incomparable Sam Jones, before retiring following the 1966-67 season.

After three years at Brandeis and one season as an assistant coach at Harvard, Jones receives a call from Fred Schaus, the Lakers’ GM, who wants him to work as an assistant for former Celtics teammate Bill Sharman. The Lakers set an NBA record with a 33-game winning streak, and then deliver that long-awaited title to its fans.

Jones parlays that magical season into a head coaching job with the ABA’s San Diego Conquistadors, before Abe Pollin offers Jones a chance to coach his Capital Bullets. Jones jumps at a chance to return to the NBA. The Capitals finish first in its division during the 1973-74 regular season, but lose in the conference semifinals. The team changes its name to the Washington Bullets a year later, finishes in first place tie with the Celtics with a 60-22 record, before being swept by the Golden State Warriors in the 1975 NBA Finals. A season later, the Bullets go 48-34 and lose in the conference semifinals. Jones is fired despite a successful three-year run.

Following a year as an assistant with the Milwaukee Bucks, Jones returns home as an assistant with the Celtics. He works the sidelines with Bill Fitch when the Celtics win the championship in 1981. The next two years end without a trip to the NBA Finals. Fitch is fired following the ‘83 playoffs, and Jones is promoted to head coach.

Flash-forward to the 1984 NBA Finals. Lakers vs. Celtics. Magic vs. Bird. The most anticipated NBA Finals in league history. The seven game series remains one of the most thrilling NBA Finals ever.

The Celtics go to the NBA Finals four consecutive years under Jones, winning two. The 1985-86 title team, which adds Bill Walton, is still considered one of the greatest ever assembled. He’s replaced by Chris Ford following the 1987-88 season, but there are other coaching stops along the way, including a head coaching gig with the Seattle Supersonics. When he finally retires in 1998, he does so with his trademark grace and humility and simply walks away.

“It was a good run,” Jones says, serving those famous ribs to his guests. “I’m fortunate to have been part of some very special teams and a lot of great moments. It’s been a good ride.”

Like many of your former Celtics teammates, you were born during the decade of The Great Depression.

Times were tough in the ‘30s, and we moved around a lot. My father moved from job-to-job when I was growing up, so we were never in one place for very long. I was born in Taylor, Texas, and then from there we moved to Austin. We moved to Corpus Christi when I was three, Dallas when I was five, McGregor when I was eight, and San Francisco when I was nine.

My father served three years in the U.S. Navy, and that’s how we ended up in San Francisco. That’s when I started playing basketball, at the recreation center in San Francisco. Everything was segregated back then. I remember having to read the signs that would tell you where to sit. On buses it was always in the back. In the movie houses it was the so-called crow’s nest, which was the balcony area of the theater. Those are some of the things that I remember.

Who had the most influence on you during those early years?

Jackie Robinson had a tremendous influence on me. Joe Louis also left a lasting impression. There were no TVs, but we had a radio. I remember listening to his bouts, the big ones against Max Schmeling and Billy Conn. Those things really stood out in my mind and left a big impression on me.

You graduated from Commerce High School of San Francisco. At what point did you realize that you could play collegiate basketball?

I liked playing basketball, but I wasn’t recruited. Mildred Smith, my history teacher at Commerce, was lobbying for me at the local college – the University of San Francisco. I didn’t know this at the time, and only found out five years later. She was calling Phil Woolpert, the head coach, and meeting with him on a consistent basis. With her support, and that of a local sportswriter who was always in my court, USF offered me a scholarship – the only school to do so.

Do you know who Bill Russell was at that point in time?

No, I didn’t know anything about Bill.

Let’s talk about the 1953-54 season at USF.

Our team was very close. We played together as a unit, and we got along very well, both on and off the court. We were convinced that we could beat Cal, and we grew more confident as the game went on. Bill blocked a lot of shots that game, and Bill never blocked them out-of-bounds. He always blocked the shots in the direction of a teammate, and this made it easier to start the transition to offense. We did a good job of shutting down McKeen and Matheny, and these two guys were Cal’s primary threats.

Your season started off great. What happened the second game of the season at Fresno State?

I started to experience stomach pain after the season opener against Cal. It got progressively worse as we approached the game against Fresno, which was scheduled around the Thanksgiving holiday. At first I thought that maybe I’d celebrated Thanksgiving a little too much, that I’d eaten too much. [Laughs.] It got worse, and the doctor diagnosed it as a mild form of appendicitis. Well, on the bus ride to Fresno the pain became unbearable. I was turning flips it hurt so bad. We were in the locker room before the game, I was doubled over in pain, and the coaches were going over the scouting report with me. [Laughs.] I remember that the pain was just tremendous. My appendix burst, and that was the end of my season.

You were able to return a year later. Tell me about the All-College Tournament in Oklahoma City.

We camped out in a college dorm closed for the holidays, and we practiced wherever we could. I remember practicing on a stage, and people coming to watch. They called us the Harlem Globetrotters, and they threw pennies and quarters on the stage. A few of us got really angry at this, but not Bill (Russell). Bill just smiled and laughed at them and picked up the money, and turned the situation around on them. He wanted to prove that he was bigger than the taunting, and he was basically mocking their actions. He wasn’t going to let them get the best of him.

The NCAA Final against La Salle was billed as “Gola the Great” against “Russell the Remarkable.” Turns out Woolpert had other plans.

I had a touch of panic before that game, but once the game started I didn’t hear much of anything. Everything just seemed to go away. Phil didn’t want Russell guarding Tom Gola, because he was a smaller man than Bill, and also more of a perimeter player. It wouldn’t have been a smart move, and Phil recognized that it was better to have Russell blocking shots under the basket. In our pre-game meeting Phil told me that I was getting the Gola assignment, even though Gola was a much taller player. I was focused on playing solid defense, and was able to slow Gola down. It was also one of those games where I clicked offensively.

USF repeated as national champions the following year, but you knew going into the season that you weren’t eligible for the tournament. How hard was it to watch your teammates win a second title without you?

It goes back to what happened with my appendix. The NCAA ruled that I could play the regular season in ’55-’56, but that I wouldn’t be eligible for the tournament. Still, it wasn’t hard at all. I was able to contribute throughout the season, and I had a great deal of confidence that the team could repeat. I was able to go to the tournament games even though I was ineligible to play, so I still felt like a part of the team.

What did it feel like to be selected to represent the US in the Olympics?

I learned that I’d been selected after the college all-star game. It was a great honor to be selected. Playing for your country is bigger than playing for your college or for your pro team in the NBA. It was the most important title that I’ve ever won.

You served two years in the military following graduation.

I graduated from USF in 1956. I wasn’t real sure about the war, but I was pretty sure I was going to get drafted – I just didn’t know when they would call. So rather than wait, I decided to be proactive and take control of the situation. I volunteered in September of 1956, and then went to the Olympics in Melbourne, Australia, with Bill [Russell], where we won the gold medal. Because the seasons are reversed in Australia, the 1956 summer Olympics were actually held during the USA’s winter time. I served two years in the U.S. Army.

Did you keep in contact with Bill Russell during your stay in the military?

No, not really. I was aware of what he was accomplishing in Boston, and I knew that the Celtics won the championship with him after the 1956-57 season, but we really didn’t keep in close contact at this time.

You had a brief tryout with the Los Angeles Rams. Were you serious about playing football for the Rams?

Pete Rozelle drafted me while I was still at USF. He had been named general manager in 1957 and projected me as either a receiver or a cornerback. Red Auerbach had drafted me to play basketball for the Celtics, but all of the scouts were saying that I was too short to be successful in the NBA. They were also saying that I couldn’t shoot the ball well enough to play in the pros, so I thought my best chance for success rested with the Rams. I was a starting cornerback for four exhibition games. I played against players like Frank Gifford. It was going well until I suffered an injury, and that was the end of my football career. I was really upset about the injury, very angry. That’s when I decided to call Red and ask about playing for the Celtics.

Tell me about Walter Brown, who founded the Boston Celtics.

Walter Brown was a great person. He was a well-respected man who always made it a point to speak. We weren’t close – our relationship mostly consisted of small talk, but he was always very cordial to all of the players.

You played for two Hall of Fame coaches in Phil Woolpert and Red Auerbach. How were they alike, and how were they different?

Phil was highly intellectual. Very bright. Very well read. He was also very communicative with his players. Red was highly intelligent as well, and arrogant. I mean this in a positive way, because with Red it was a good combination of intelligence and arrogance. His record and his accomplishments stand as a testament to that fact. Red Auerbach was a genius.

Tell me about Bob Cousy.

Cousy had a tremendous amount of confidence in himself. Red didn’t want Cousy, and many people tend to forget that. Didn’t want him at all. Bypassed him in the 1950 draft, then got him when Cousy’s NBA team (Chicago Stags) folded. They (Stags) had three players everybody wanted, and the three names were put into a hat. The Celtics drew last, and Cousy’s name was the last name to come out of the hat. Bob Cousy had a great intellect. He was a voracious reader. On the court he quickly became famous for those behind-the-back passes and the fancy dribbling. Red called the fancy stuff ‘French pastries’, but Cousy was very successful with it. He always had a high number of assists, and he had that on-the-run, one-foot shot. That was one of his trademarks.

Following Cousy’s retirement, you were named the starting point guard. How did the fans respond?

The fans responded by not coming to the games in the same numbers [laughs]. Attendance went down after Cousy retired. Cousy was legend, a great player, so I can understand the reason for the drop. But these things didn’t bother me at all. There was no nervousness when I stepped in and became a starter. I’d been a part of two NCAA championships with USF, a part of those 55 consecutive victories. I’d won an Olympic gold medal. I knew what it was like to be down by 16 to Holy Cross and come back, and I knew what it took to become a successful starter. I was very confident in my abilities as a defender. If you were a master of defense, then I was convinced that you could match the offensive player at any level. And the fear factor disappeared because of this confidence.

If Cousy was the offensive genius in the Celtics’ backcourt, then your were his answer on the defensive end. Did Red make adjustments to take advantage of your strengths?

Red was a genius. He knew his personnel, and he knew what it took to win. I’d played 5 minutes a game for five years as a reserve, but he knew how to handle the situation when Cousy retired. In Red’s mind it was either myself or John Havlicek, and it could have gone either way. He selected me as the starting point guard. I knew that I’d have to go out and play good, solid basketball. I had to go out there and prove myself worthy of the job. I had to work for it.

You were there for the two greatest steals in team history; Havlicek’s famous steal against Philadelphia, and Bird’s unbelievable theft against Detroit.

I was on the floor for the first Havlicek’s steal. There were five seconds left, and Russell lost the ball off of the guide wire support. Hal Greer was the in-bounder, and he was going to pass the ball to either Johnny Kerr or Chet Walker. Kerr made his move and then I suddenly realized where the ball was going – deep to Walker. I was scared to death because of the positioning on the floor. I thought my mistake might end up putting the ball in Wilt’s hands down low. Fortunately, Havlicek smelled a rat. He read it perfectly and intercepted the ball, preserving the victory.

Larry’s steal was one of the greatest plays of all time. He was a snake in the grass on that play. We needed that steal or we would have been in very serious trouble – we would have been going back to Detroit down 3-2. It was an incredible play.

In 1972, you won an NBA championship as an assistant coach to Bill Sharman with the Los Angeles Lakers.

It was a happy time for me, and a very good experience. Jerry West is one of my favorite people. I’ve always admired both his playing ability and his front-office savvy. I have a lot of respect for Jerry. We were able to win 33 consecutive games and capture the first Laker championship in L.A.

You won another ring as a Celtics assistant coach in ’81

The big thing that I remember is the togetherness of that team. We were down 3-1 against Philadelphia in the Eastern Conference Finals, and nobody gave us a chance. But nobody was giving up, and nobody was pointing fingers. Because of that, we were able to weather the storm and win the series and reach the Finals. Houston was a good team, but we knew that they weren’t as talented as Philly. If we stayed focused we knew that we’d win the championship.

You were named head coach prior to the 1983-84 regular season, inheriting a team with Hall of Fame players like Larry Bird, Robert Parish, Kevin McHale and Dennis Johnson. Take me back to that classic series against the Lakers.

It was the best. It was my first year as head coach and we weren’t supposed to win. It was big in all aspects, big in every sense of the word. The media coverage was incredible, and it seemed as if everyone in the world was watching the series. You turned on the TV and it was there. You turned on the radio and everyone was talking about it. That series had everything. Larry and Magic made it that much more special – what more can you say than that?

There were so many great moments. You had Gerald [Henderson] stealing the James Worthy inbound pass in Game 2, which we won in overtime. That was huge for us. If he doesn’t make that steal then we’ve lost two in the Boston Garden and head to L.A. in serious trouble. When you look at the magnitude of the situation, Gerald’s steal was very important. It was a big turning point, and it allowed us to get back in the series against the Lakers. Like I said, if we had lost that game we were down 0-2 going to Los Angeles. Before the series that scenario was something I didn’t think possible, but for a while there it looked to be the case. As it was, we were able salvage a split at home and then go on to win the series.

Larry, Robert and Kevin were outstanding throughout that series. Dennis Johnson helped us slow down Magic, which was a key adjustment that helped us regain control of the series. Cedric Maxwell also played a great series, especially in Game 7. I am very proud of our accomplishment. The 1984 championship ranks up there as the biggest title ever.

What was it like to coach Larry Bird?

The word that comes to my mind is ‘appreciation.’ I have a tremendous amount of appreciation for Larry Bird. He was such a hard worker, and was always trying to improve his game. Everyone knew that he was a great offensive player, everyone knew that he was going to get his points. But when he came into the league everyone said that he was too slow to play in the NBA, that he couldn’t jump, that he couldn’t defend. Then you’d look at the box score and he had twelve, fourteen rebounds.

Larry was more than a great player – he was a joy to coach. So motivated. He led by example. And not only that, having Larry on the floor was like having another coach out there. He saw so much before it happened. He understood the game better than anyone else on the floor. That’s why he had so much success with Indiana. There will never be another player like Larry. He’s one of the greatest of all time.

Tell me about Kevin McHale.

Kevin was such a happy person. He was always smiling, always having fun. A joy to be around. Like Cousy, he was one of the high intellects. And like Cousy, he read a lot. He had a great mind. Kevin was also a giving person. He had those revolutionary low-post moves, things no one else had ever done, and he’d work with the other guys in practice to help them improve their game.

Robert Parish.

I could talk about Robert all day long. Robert’s nickname was “Chief.” Cedric Maxwell put that tag on him. He called him “Chief” after a character in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Robert was special because he knew his place on the team. He knew that there were only so many basketballs to go around, and that Larry and Kevin were going to get the majority of the shots. He also knew that Danny (Ainge) and Dennis were going to take their shots as well. So Robert fell into his space on the team, which was to rebound, play tough defense, and to be a force in the middle. This isn’t to say that Robert wasn’t a great offensive player; he could have put up big numbers on other teams, so he wasn’t just a big body to clog the middle and stop the other team’s big man. Robert had a very good offensive game. He just understood what was expected from him and he went out and did his job. Robert was awesome.

In your mind, where does that ’86 team rank in NBA history?

That team was right up there with the best in history. All those great players – Larry, Kevin, Robert, DJ, Danny. We got Bill Walton that year, and he made us the complete package. Walton was such a legend, both in college and with what he did in Portland before he started having trouble with his ankles. When he played at Portland he was out of this world. He could pass brilliantly, and he had the same tenacity as Bill Russell.

Where where you when you learned that Len Bias had died from a cocaine overdose?

I was driving home from work in my car. I found out about it on the radio, and it broke my heart. I’d just spent time with him the day before. He had gone to Boston following the draft to meet his new team, and then he returned to Maryland. He went back to the Maryland campus to celebrate with his friends – I use the term loosely, because these people weren’t his friends. Not when they’re doing drugs. It was a tragedy.

We’ll never know, but on paper Bias had the tools to be the next great Celtic.

It hurt, no question. Larry lobbied Red to draft Bias. He grew more excited as the draft got closer and it looked like we were going to land Len. Larry was making plans to attend the rookie camp so that he could start working with Len and preparing him for his first year in the league. The two of them had met, and they were fast friends. So it really hurt Larry to find out that Len had died from drugs.

Like you, Larry Bird went on to become a head coach. Evaluate his three year career as the coach of the Indiana Pacers.

It was a fabulous coaching job. Larry took over an Indiana team that had been coached by the great Larry Brown and took them to the NBA Finals. And he did it with basically the same team that Brown had the previous year. That’s not a knock on Brown, because I respect him a great deal. He’s one of the best coaches in the game. But for Larry (Bird) to come into that situation and excel, that was truly a special job.

Final question: If you could offer one piece of advice on life to others, what would that be?

Honesty and effort. In my mind, those are the two most important ingredients to achieving success.

Celtics Dynasty (1957-1969), Featured Interview

The Bailey Howell Interview

By: Michael D. McClellan | The game came easily to him. From the first time he picked up a basketball, to later earning All-America honors in both high school and college, Bailey Howell possessed a gift that quickly set him apart from his peers. He was a natural on the court, at home within its geometric confines, a player so skilled that at the time of his retirement from the NBA in 1971, Howell ranked among the league’s top 10 leaders in nine statistical categories. But statistics only tell part of the story. Howell, who grew up near the cotton fields surrounding Middleton, Tennessee, never made himself bigger than the team. Regardless of his star power, he was always willing to subjugate his considerable game for the bigger cause. Such characteristics explain how Howell, a six-time NBA All-Star, blended perfectly with Bill Russell’s Boston Celtics, winning two world championships as the curtain closed on arguably the greatest sports dynasty ever.

Howell first gained national attention by setting the Tennessee high school record for points, scoring 1,187 of them for Middleton High School during the 1954-55 season. And while the 31.2 points-per-game scoring average was on display for everyone to see, only those closest to him knew of the dedication required to achieve such success. Yes, Howell made it look that easy. He never seemed out of position, grabbing rebounds by the bushel while powering his way to the hoop, causing even the legendary Adolph Rupp to take notice. But even the naturals have to work at their craft, and Howell was unafraid to put in the hours required to hone his game. In fact, Howell hardly looked at basketball as work at all; when your high school suspends classes during the fall harvest season so that the students can help pick cotton, you have no trouble identifying the difference between amateur athletics and real work.

Howell’s desire to play basketball in the Southeastern Conference led him to choose Mississippi State University. He had plenty of other choices – Kentucky came calling, as did Tennessee and the University of Mississippi – but MSU proved to be the best fit for the versatile power forward. Like Larry Bird at Indiana State decades later, Howell found himself more comfortable on a smaller campus with a more relaxed atmosphere. And it was at MSU that his virtuosity shone through; in an era when big men were planted firmly around the basket, Howell displayed a guard’s shooting touch from the outside. He was a glimpse into the future of basketball, an offensive anomaly, and his presence on the court wreaked havoc on opposing defenses. Starting at forward as a sophomore – freshmen weren’t allowed to play varsity sports at the time – Howell torched Rupp’s Kentucky Wildcats for 37 points, serving notice that he could excel against the best programs in the country.

If the Kentucky game was Howell’s coming-out party as a scorer, then his 34-rebound performance against LSU that same season cemented his reputation as the team’s chairman of the boards. Howell finished the season by leading the NCAA in field goal percentage (.568), no small feat considering the Bulldogs’ brutal SEC schedule, and was duly honored as the conference Sophomore of the Year.

By 1958, Howell was a Second Team All-America selection. His 27.8 PPG average placed him ninth in the nation, and he was honored as the Southeastern Conference MVP. The success did little to change the humble young man with the deft shooting touch; he continued to work hard and set goals, leading MSU to a 61-14 record over three seasons and capturing the SEC title in 1959. Howell was the first SEC player in history to reach the exclusive 2,000-point, 1,000-rebound club, joining Tom Gola and Oscar Robertson as the only players with that distinction. First Team All-America honors followed his senior campaign, and Howell was suddenly one of the most coveted players in the 1959 NBA Draft.

Drafted by Detroit, Howell was an All-Star by his second season. The Pistons, however, struggled in the win column. During Howell’s five years in Detroit, the team never finished better than second place in the standings. They were also unable to get past the Lakers and into the Finals. It was a frustrating period in Howell’s professional life, but he never complained publicly. Nor did he demand a trade. Instead, he played five solid seasons for the Pistons, appearing in at least 75 games per campaign, while averaging more than 20 points and 10 rebounds over that span.

Struggling to improve, the Pistons traded Howell to the Baltimore Bullets prior to the 1964-65 regular season. Howell’s two seasons in a Baltimore uniform proved to be even more challenging than the previous five in Detroit; the Bullets struggled despite a talent-laden roster, and the lack of team harmony began to wear on the MSU product. All of that changed on September 1, 1966, when Red Auerbach sent backup center Mel Counts to Baltimore in exchange for Howell. It was a move that helped rejuvenate both Howell and the aging world champions; despite having their string of eight consecutive NBA titles snapped by the Philadelphia 76ers, the Celtics benefited immediately from Howell’s offensive punch. His contributions factored heavily into the team’s championship runs the following two seasons, giving Howell a pair of rings and the perfect capstone to a brilliant career.

Howell would play one more season, for Philadelphia. On September 29, 1997, he received basketball’s highest honor – enshrinement in the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame. Standing at the podium before a large contingent of family and friends, Howell thanked those closest to him as he reflected on a lifetime of hard work and dedication. To those who know Bailey Howell best, his humility was a true reflection of the man himself.

You were born on January 20, 1937 in Middleton, Tennessee. Please take me back to your childhood.

Middleton was a very small town of maybe 300 people or so, and our family actually lived plumb out of the city limits. It was a rural, farming community with no industry to speak about. Tennessee Gas built a pump station there during my teenage years, with lines running from Texas and Louisiana on up into Tennessee. Other than that, the area was mostly made up of farms and small businesses.

Basketball was the only sport offered at our high school – there were no football or baseball teams for the students, so we’d play pick-up games whenever we could. Our school year started in early August because we would turn out in late September, during the cotton harvest season. Basketball practice didn’t start until after we resumed our classes, but we would get together on our own and practice whenever we could. We played basketball most of the year. After the regular season was over we would play in the regional and class tournaments, and then we’d play informally through the spring and summer. We only attended school eight months out of the year – we were always out in May, so that we could help chop cotton – so it was important to have a sport to play when we weren’t working.

You were an All-State basketball player at Middleton High School in 1954 and 1955. As a senior you averaged 32.1 points-per-game, and received All-America honors for your outstanding play. Please share some of your basketball memories from this period in your life.

We played thirty-five games during my senior season – we normally played twenty-five – and Middleton had some pretty good teams during that era. We reached the state tournament during my sophomore season, which was one of my biggest thrills, but we were upset in the regional finals as a senior. That was a very disappointing moment for everyone on the team because we felt we were good enough to reach the state tournament again. Following my senior season, I was selected to play in the annual Murray State High School North-South All-Star Basketball Game. I played well, grabbed a bunch of rebounds and was selected to the All-American team. They don’t play that game anymore, but back then, that was one of the most prestigious events in high school basketball.

What led you to sign with Mississippi State?

I wanted to play in the SEC. I had an opportunity to play at the University of Mississippi, which was closer to home, but I liked the casual atmosphere at Mississippi State. James “Babe” McCarthy was the coach at the time, and he was the reason I decided to enroll at MSU. He was ahead of his time as far as recruiting was concerned – he visited me, and made a real effort to sell the school to my family. He made sure that other individuals from the basketball program visited as well. Kentucky showed some interest, but [Adolph] Rupp sent Harry Lancaster, his assistant coach, with a scholarship offer. That was it. MSU just did a much better job. It finally came down to MSU and the University of Tennessee, and Knoxville was just too far away from home.

As a three-year letter-winner, you led MSU to a 61-14 record over three seasons, averaged 27 points-per-game, and helped garner the school’s first-ever SEC crown.

Back then you couldn’t play on the varsity team as a freshman, but we defeated Kentucky during my sophomore season. It was the first time that had happened in thirty-five years, so that was a very big thrill. Another goal was to win the SEC Championship, and we were able to do that during my senior year. We also beat UK in Starkville that season – that was very satisfying, because back then we only played the SEC East teams once a season, while the West teams were always home-and-home.

You were a two-time consensus All-American at MSU. Jerry West was also a member of those All-American teams. Did you ever have the opportunity to meet Jerry while you were playing basketball at MSU?

No, I didn’t meet Jerry until we were playing professionally. I knew who he was, and knew that he was a great talent, but our paths never crossed during college.

You were the second overall selection in the 1959 NBA Draft by the Detroit Pistons. What was that like?

I heard about it on the radio. Cincinnati had the Number One pick that year, and there were rumors that the Royals were going to select me first. How true that is, I don’t know. Back then the AAU teams were popular – teams like the Phillips Oilers and the Wichita Vickers Oilers had some of best talent in the country playing for them – and at the time AAU ball was an option. The league played a fifty game season, and you were trained in a management area of the company sponsoring the team. It was a great way to get in the door and start a career. Cincinnati called me before the draft and wanted to know if I’d play pro ball. I gave them a number, but they made it clear that they wouldn’t pay that kind of money. So there was supposed to have been a trade before the draft – I say ‘supposed,’ because in those days the deals weren’t always made public – in which Detroit sent a player and money to Cincinnati, with the understanding that the Royals wouldn’t take me or trade away the first pick. Whatever happened, the Pistons selected me with second pick and I was off to Detroit.

One of your teammates that first season was Early Lloyd who, earlier in his career, became the first African-American to play in an NBA game. Please tell me a little about Mr. Lloyd.

I met Earl in training camp – he was a veteran who’d been in the league for a number of years, and I was the rookie trying to take his playing time. But even though we were in competition for minutes, Earl took me under his wing and spent a great deal of time teaching me about the pro game. He was truly my mentor. We continued our friendship after our playing days were over, keeping in touch by phone and visiting occasionally. My wife and I were at his Hall of Fame enshrinement ceremony, and we were guests in his home not long after that.

How did you prepare for the start of the regular season?

We had training camp, played ten exhibition games, and that was it. When I moved on to Boston, the Celtics were still doing those barnstorming tours even though Red was no longer the coach. One time we played games on twenty-one straight nights. But as grueling as all of those games were, they always paid off in terms of a competitive advantage. The Celtics were the most well-conditioned team in the NBA.

On November 25th, 1960, you registered NBA career-highs with 43 points and 32 rebounds against the Los Angeles Lakers. What was it like to play so well against the likes of Elgin Baylor, Jerry West and Hot Rod Hundley?

It was a big thrill whenever something like that happened, because it didn’t happen that often. The Lakers had Rudy LaRusso, who was their defensive stopper. He was a tough assignment. On a couple of occasions I grabbed more than thirty rebounds, but I don’t remember one of them being the same night that I scored forty-three points. We played a double-header once, and I grabbed thirty-two rebounds against the Lakers. But LaRusso didn’t let me score all of those points [laughs].

Later that season, the Pistons battled the Lakers in the Western Division Semifinals, taking them to the five game limit. What was that experience like for you, and what still stands out about it after all of these years?

The biggest thing was playing against Jerry West and Elgin Baylor. In my opinion, West ranks as one of the greatest guards to ever play the game – easily in the top three or four. And as for Baylor, I still consider him to be the top forward in the history of the NBA. I remember trying to stop him, and then realizing that nobody was going to stop Baylor – especially me [laughs]. So I went into each game with the mindset that I was going to make him earn his points. He might score thirty, but he was going to take a lot of shots to get there.

What was it like competing against those great Celtics teams?

When we played the Celtics, they had some of their greatest teams. Players like Bill Russell, Sam Jones, and Tommy Heinsohn were in their prime. Bob Cousy was winding up his Hall of Fame career. As for Havlicek, he started out playing the role of Sixth Man, and he wasn’t an outstanding shooter at that point in his career. He later became a terrific shooter through practice and dedication, and that was part of what made him so great. The other thing was his tremendous stamina. I believe his resting heart rate was close to forty beats-per-minute, which allowed him to outrun and outlast the opposition. He’d just keep running, and eventually the other guy would wear down.

Havlicek was a difficult matchup. He was big enough to play forward and quick enough to play guard. Because of these advantages, he really presented problems wherever he was asked to play. He could run the floor against the big, slow guys, and he could step out on the quick guards and really play great defense. Kevin McHale was the only other player I saw who really posed the same kind of matchup problems. McHale also started out as the Celtics’ Sixth Man, and he was really able to use his height – and long arms – at the forward position. He could do this because he had Robert Parish playing center beside him. Having Chief there allowed McHale to shoot over the forwards, but he could also use those incredible moves to get around the slower players. So where Havlicek got his mismatches against guards and forwards, McHale got his against forwards and centers.

When the Pistons played the Celtics I wasn’t matched up against Havlicek. It was usually Tom Sanders. He was the Celtics’ defensive stopper, and he going to Boston I always knew I’d be in for some difficult times. Tom played me well, and that was only part of it. There was all of that talent and tradition, and the great Bill Russell. He was the league MVP, and probably the greatest player ever. So playing Boston was not an easy assignment.

Following five seasons with the Pistons, you found yourself in Baltimore.

Baltimore was an expansion team – they were known as the Chicago Zephyrs during the 1961-62 season, but then moved to Baltimore and changed their name to the Bullets. They had some successful teams early on. In Detroit, we finished second in the West to the St. Louis Hawks (1959-60) and then really struggled. We didn’t win half of our games after that, but each season we seemed to improve. I felt that we were getting ready to contend for the Western Division title. Coach Dick McGuire retired after the 1962-63 season, and then the Pistons brought in Charlie Wolf. Charlie had coached the Cincinnati Royals for three seasons prior to taking over in Detroit. He changed a lot of things and, looking back, he made a lot of bad decisions. We won only 23 games that year. The Pistons didn’t fire him – instead, they decided to make a gigantic trade involving a bunch of players. Four or five went to Baltimore, along with a draft choice, and three or four of the Bullet players ended up with the Pistons. The Pistons started the next season 2-9 and Wolf was fired. They were able to rebuild with players like Dave Bing and Dave DeBusschere, and really get the franchise back on its feet.

The Bullets had a really good club, but the team concept was lacking. We won most of our home games, lost most of our road games, and never really figured out how to play together. We won thirty-seven games that season and wound up in third place in our division. We played the Hawks in the opening round of the playoffs, splitting the two games in St. Louis and then winning the next two at home. We just couldn’t beat the Lakers on the road. They took us 4-2 in that series. All six games were competitive.

In 1966, Red Auerbach acquired you in a trade that sent Mel Counts to Baltimore. What do you remember most about that first season in Boston?

It was a big thrill to go to a club with mediocre success to a team that had won eight NBA championships in a row. I got to play with players like Sam Jones, John Havlicek and Bill Russell, which was very special for me because they were such special people. The Celtics were the defending champions when I arrived, but they were aging together as a team. The key players were brought in at roughly the same time, and the team always had the last pick in the draft. That made it much harder to bring young guys along, so Red offset this by making trades to improve the team. Willie Naulls is a good example of this. Don Nelson and Wayne Embry played for the Celtics because of Red’s shrewdness.

Auerbach looked like a genius after that trade.

Mel Counts was a backup center, a seven-footer who couldn’t shoot from outside. And because Russell was playing forty-eight minutes a game, Counts never got the opportunity to play. Red used this to his advantage. He had an unknown commodity, so he built Counts up in the eyes of the Baltimore brass. There was a glut of forwards on the team at the time, thanks to a trade with New York, and there wasn’t really a center on the roster. Johnny Kerr was at the end of his career, and he was dealing with back problems. Bob Ferry wasn’t really big enough to play center. So when the Bullets traded Walt Bellamy to the Knicks just eight games into the 1965-66 season, the team began to explore trade opportunities. They decided to part with either a Bailey Howell or a Gus Johnson in order to get their center. It was a big break for me.

The great Bill Russell was your teammate during your first three seasons in Boston. Please tell me about Mr. Russell. How did he handle the dual roles of player/coach?

It was a very difficult job, without question, but he handled it well. The team was getting up in years. Philly was the up-and-coming team. The previous season the Sixers had the better record, and then they set the record for most wins. They had players like Wilt Chamberlain, Hal Greer and Billy Cunningham. And after Philly beat us 4-1 in the playoffs, everyone from the media to the fans was saying that the dynasty was over. Boston was dead. But we still had Bill Russell, and that was the biggest factor working in our favor. Great players make the game easier for his teammates. Bill did that. He was the greatest MVP that ever walked onto the floor.

As a coach, Bill learned a lot that first year. He also had a veteran team, which really helped, because the players knew what it took to win a championship. I’m not so sure it would have worked if he had a roster full of younger players. He was able to win championships those last two years, even though the team was continuing to age, and even though the Celtics were winning few games during the regular season. We were 48-34 in 1968-69, but we were able to win the games that counted. Bill deserves a lot of credit for that.

It would be hard to find a greater guard during that era than Sam Jones.

Sam was a great person, a prolific scorer, and a complete basketball player. He was also a big guard with a magic touch. Whatever he did, he did well – whether is was playing cards, basketball, or anything else for that matter. Anyone who played with him knew that Sam was a competitor and a winner. The Celtics had a lot of guys like that.

Sam was at his most productive on the nights when the Celtics needed him most. He was always a better player in the big games – not because he was holding back at other times, but because he loved to play under pressure. He could raise his game when the stakes were the highest. Sam Jones was a joy to play with.

In 1967, the Celtics had their streak of 8 consecutive NBA championships snapped. Many experts thought that Boston was too old to win another title, but in 1968 that’s exactly what happened. What was it like for you to finally win an NBA championship?

It was very satisfying. We won that ’68 title by beating the Lakers in six games, the last of which was in Los Angeles. That didn’t surprise me, because our road record that year was outstanding. We took two of three road games against Detroit in the first round of the playoffs, three-of-four from Philly in the Eastern Division Finals, and then two-of-three from the Lakers to win it all. Philly had the best record in the league again, with basically the same club that won the title the year before, and we finished even farther behind them in the standings. But we played better at the most crucial times. We won Game 1, Game 5 and Game 7 in Philly – in our minds, the team that presented the biggest obstacle in winning it all. We were favored to beat the Lakers, and we dominated them.

The next year Wilt was traded to Los Angeles. They weren’t the same without him, and we beat the Sixers 4-1 in the opening round. New York was developing a really good club at that time, with players like Willis Reed, Walt Frazier, Dick Barnett, Dave DeBusschere and Bill Bradley. They were the up-and-coming team, but we beat them head-to-head and ended up facing the Lakers again in the Finals.

Your Celtics defeated the Lakers in the 1969 NBA Finals, winning that memorable Game 7 in L.A. Please take me back to that classic series.

We barely made the playoffs that season. We were 48-34, but we were able to put it together in the playoffs. The Finals against the Lakers was a tough, competitive, hard, monumental struggle. We prevailed, but I remember having no energy left after it was over. I was so tired, but it still felt great because we’d won another championship.

That seventh game was famous for a number of reasons. Everyone remembers that Wilt took himself out of the game with a leg injury, and that [Lakers head coach] Butch van Breda Kolff refused to let him back on the court with the game close in the fourth quarter. There was about six minutes left in the game when Wilt twisted his right knee and left the game, but what many people don’t know is how mad Russell was when that happened. He was really angry, because the Lakers were really being beaten when Wilt left. In his mind it ruined a good game. Russell wanted to win the championship with both teams at their best, and he openly questioned whether Wilt was seriously injured. He felt that Wilt wanted out because the Celtics were winning the game so decisively, and that the injury was an excuse to leave the game. It tarnished the last battle between the game’s two greatest centers. They eventually patched things up, but for many years that game was a great source of friction between them. That says something about Russell’s competitive drive.

Wilt’s injury changed the momentum of the game. We had a letdown after that. Mel Counts came off the bench and helped to spark a Laker rally, and suddenly the game got tight. Wilt wanted to return, but van Breda Kolff wouldn’t let him back off the bench. And then Don Nelson hit that big jumper, the one that rattled home and helped us win the series.

The other memory is one of all of those balloons – Laker owner Jack Kent Cooke had thousands of them hanging in a giant net high above the court, ready for the championship celebration. Russell and Sam Jones took one look at that, got very angry, and used it as a source of motivation. They were going to make sure that those balloons didn’t come down.

Everyone, it seems, has their favorite Red Auerbach story. Do you have one that stands out?

I only played for Red in two All-Star Games and one regular season game, because Red had retired as head coach after the 1965-66 season. There was a terrible snowstorm coming in off the ocean that first season. It dumped a lot of snow in Boston, making it really hard to get around. Well, back then we used to play doubleheaders, which meant that the visiting team would arrive in town a day early, and on this occasion it actually made it easier for our opponent to reach the Boston Garden. They were already in a downtown hotel. The only Boston players who made it to the game that night were the ones who lived close. I walked a mile over frozen tracks to make it. John Havlicek got stuck on the Mystic River Bridge – he left his wife and car and walked in. Russell got stuck on the same bridge, but he wasn’t about to abandon his Lamborghini [laughs].

So Russell didn’t make it that night. Red called a timeout during the game, and in the huddle he looked over to me. I hadn’t been shooting the ball well. Red said, “Howell, don’t worry about missing those shots. I’ll worry about you missing those shots. Just make sure that you take the open shot – if you don’t, then you’re going to be sitting on the bench with me.” Well, I went on to have one of my most productive nights. I think I scored thirty-seven points. Red was a genius at handling people.

On September 29, 1997 you received basketball’s highest honor. Please take me back to your Hall of Fame induction.

That was icing on the cake for me. Many of my heroes – the people that I admired and looked up to – were already in the Hall of Fame, so it was a thrill to join them. I really don’t have the words to describe what I felt that night. It was a great evening. I was very proud – most of my family was there, so it was one of the big highlights of my life. To be recognized in my profession as one of the people who achieved, as one who tried to reach my full potential…it was a very humbling experience. I’ll never forget it.

Final Question: If you could offer one piece of advice on life to others, what would that be?

Don’t take any shortcuts. Be willing to go the extra mile, and to do things the right way.

Celtics Dynasty (1957-1969), Featured Interview

The Clyde Lovellette Interview

By: Michael D. McClellan | There is something sublimely unique about the old school athletes of yesteryear, the ones who captured the imaginations of young fans long before cloud-based streaming became all the rage. They played the game, or they ran the race, or they climbed into the ring without the viral love that comes from trending on social media. The money back then was good but not great, and the athletes of yesteryear usually worked other jobs just to pay the bills.

Clyde Lovellette is one such man from yesteryear. Few know him today, but, to hoop historians and basketball aficionados, Lovellette is hardly a forgotten man. The first player to win an NCAA championship, an Olympic gold medal, and an NBA title, Lovellette’s rare triple puts him first in an exclusive club that includes all-time greats Bill Russell, Magic Johnson and Michael Jordan. Lovellette has led the nation in scoring. He has been honored as a Helms Foundation Player of the Year, an NBA All-Star, and a Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame inductee. He has teamed with some of the greatest names in NBA history, counting George Mikan and Bill Russell among those with whom he’s shared the championship stage. Lovellette has been coached by legends, men simply known as “Phog” and “Red,” and he forever linked to the NBA’s first great dynasty.

Born on September 7th, 1929, Lovellette emerged from the Great Depression largely unscathed. He grew into a gangly teenager, head-and-shoulders above his classmates at Garfield High School in Terre Haute, Indiana. By his junior year Lovellette was 6’8″, earning All-State honors and attracting the attention of more than fifty major colleges in the process. It was generally assumed that Lovellette would stay close to home, but, like Larry Bird decades later, Lovellette would commit to Indiana University only to find the environment too large and too intimidating for his taste. He chose Kansas instead, thanks to the repeated overtures of head coach Forrest “Phog” Allen.

For Lovellette, Kansas turned out to be the absolute best place in the basketball universe. Lovellette finished his sophomore season fourth in the nation in scoring, with a 21.8 points-per-game average, was named All-Big Seven, and garnered the first of three All-America honors. He would lead the nation in scoring during a magical senior season (28.4 PPG), carrying the Jayhawks to the 1952 NCAA Championship.

“It seemed like from the first time we stepped on the court that year against Creighton, good things were going to happen,” Lovellette told the Kansas City Star in 1988. “We had been up and down in two years, but we all still liked each other and got along. Phog was still a ball of fire then. It just all came together. It was a great experience.”

Lovellette was then selected to represent the United States in the 1952 Olympic Games in Helsinki, Finland.

“Going to the Olympics and representing the United States [had] to be the biggest thrill of my entire basketball career,” Lovellette said in 1979. “Winning the gold medal was icing on the cake.”

After a season playing AAU basketball for Phillips Petroleum, Lovellette signed a contract to play with the Minneapolis Lakers, teaming with George Mikan. Playing behind Mikan as a rookie, Lovellette won an NBA title – the Lakers’ fourth in five seasons – becoming the first player to achieve that rare college-Olympic-NBA championship trifecta. Had Mikan remained healthy, who knows. Perhaps the Lakers would have strung together a series of championships to rival Bill Russell’s Boston Celtics. Instead, Mikan retired.

Lovellette played four impressive seasons in Minneapolis, only to be dealt to the Rochester Royals. Asked to take a pay cut at season’s end, Lovellette instead requested a trade and ended up in St. Louis, where he registered two All-Star appearances over the next four seasons. Battling age and injury, and with Bill Russell and the Boston Celtics churning out titles on an annual basis, Lovellette began to think he might never win another NBA crown.

All of that changed when Red Auerbach picked up Lovellette for the 1962-63 season to provide experienced relief for Russell at center. A rejuvenated Lovellette played solid basketball for Auerbach over the next two seasons, winning two championships and securing his place as one of the best centers of his generation.

Lovellette retired after the 1964 NBA Finals, decades before social media transformed the game into the globally connected spectacle it’s become today. Clyde Lovellette is cool with that. He still respects the game, and he doesn’t begrudge the fortunes amassed by players like LeBron or KD. Lovellette is part of the lineage. He has that national championship at Kansas. He’s won Olympic gold. He’s won championships with Mikan and Russell. It doesn’t get much better than that.

You were born on September 7th, 1929, a month before the Black Monday stock market crash. How was your family impacted by the Great Depression?

Dad always had a job – he was an engineer who worked on the railroad – which was one thing that our family had to be thankful about as far as the Great Depression was concerned. We were fortunate in that we had everything that we needed. He had a good job, and he brought home a good paycheck. There were other families around our neighborhood and in other surrounding areas that weren’t as fortunate. I remember that Mom tried to help as many of them as possible by giving them the things we had in excess – produce, clothing, whatever the case may be. At that time there were a lot of homeless people – we called them hobos back then – and Mom would always give them a cold drink and a sandwich.
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You were a four-year letter winner at Garfield High School and led your team to the finals of the 1947 state tournament.

High school basketball back in those days was a lot different that it is today. You played the game and didn’t think about going on to play in college. Back then you thought about getting a job, usually following in your father’s footsteps – in my case, a railroad engineer – or some other occupation that didn’t require college. And you usually stayed close to the area or the town that you grew up in, because all of your friends, family and acquaintances were there. In my case, I could have gone on to work on the railroad – I could have started as a brakemen, or a fireman, and then moved on up become an engineer like my dad. But he never wanted me to work on the railroad. I think he saw my athletic potential, and thought that I could do something with it.

You were recruited in-state, but ended up signing with Kansas. What was that like?

You have to remember that there wasn’t a lot of television back in ’47 and ’48, and whatever we had was all just regional coverage, in black-and-white, and on a 9-inch screen. You got very little news on basketball outside of Indiana. And with Indiana being the hotbed of basketball, you had coverage from Bloomington, where Branch McCracken was the coach at Indiana University, and you had coverage of Johnny Wooden’s team at Indiana State. Notre Dame had Moose Kraus. Purdue had Ward “Piggy” Lambert. Those were the big programs, so most of the talent coming out of high school went to one of those four schools, or to another school in Indiana – be it a Division I, II or III school – so that you could be close to home, and so that the family could come and see you play.

Indiana wanted you. Like Larry Bird, you changed your mind. What happened?

Back then you didn’t sign letters of intent, you gave a verbal commitment. I committed to IU during my senior year, without having visited the campus, mainly because that’s where all three of my high school coaches had graduated. Then I went down to Bloomington and visited the school, and that’s when I learned that IU had a huge campus with a very large student body population. Honestly, I was a little bit intimidated by it all.

When did Kansas enter the picture?

An assistant coach from Kansas had visited with me prior to my trip to Bloomington, so I knew that KU wanted me. I just thought that that was a far piece to travel at the time, and I didn’t really give it a lot of serious thought. I fully intended to honor my commitment to IU, but Kansas didn’t give up.

When did you meet Phog Allen?

Phog was going to make a speech in St. Louis, and I agreed to meet him there to discuss what his school had to offer. I chickened out, and sent my brother-in-law to meet with Phog and tell him that I was going to Indiana, and that there was no use in coming to Terra Haute to try and convince me to change my mind. Phog came anyway [laughs]. We had a long talk, and he made the one statement that no other coach had ever made – he said that if I came to KU and played the pivot, then the team would be good enough to win a national championship.

He also predicted that we would go to the Olympics together, and that we would win a gold medal in Helsinki, Finland. That had a huge impact on me. Being from Indiana, with very little television, you just didn’t get much in the way of Olympic coverage. You didn’t hear a lot about basketball and some of the other sports; what you heard about was track, because back then that was the big thing in the Olympics. That was what you saw on TV, or heard on the radio, or read about in the newspaper. Jesse Owens was a national sensation – his exploits made you dream about representing your country. So when Phog talked about the Olympics, that was the thing that made me the most excited. I changed my mind because of that talk, and I spent three years playing ball at KU – and we did the things that he said that we were going to do: We won the national championship, and we won the gold medal in Helsinki, Finland.

Your transition from high school to college was nothing short of incredible – you finished your first collegiate basketball season by leading the Big Seven in scoring, and by being honored as an All-American. Did you expect success to come so quickly?

You have to remember that the first year was my freshman year, and back then freshmen couldn’t play varsity sports. But that first year was really my springboard, because we played against other freshmen at the Big Seven schools, as well as against our own varsity on a nightly basis. It made us realize that we weren’t playing high school competition anymore, and that we were going to be playing against young men who were big, strong and athletic. We worked very hard during our freshman year, and then we stayed there during the summer and worked on various skills that would help us when we played varsity ball the following fall. So once we took to the court during our sophomore year, we felt that we were ready to play college basketball.

You earned All-Big Seven and All-America honors as a sophomore and a junior. What tactics did opposing coaches employ in an effort to slow you down?

There were a lot of double-teams, and a lot of sagging off. They also tried to push me out from my normal shooting range – keeping me away from the basket was a big strategy on both ends of the court, actually. Putting a guy in front of me, and a guy behind me, that was the most common defense that I had to deal with. But if you’ve got a good ball club, and they’re working with you, and I’m working with them, then it gets to the place where a defense can do that for a little bit – but pretty soon it’s going to break down and we’re going to run our offense. They can stymie you for awhile. But if you’ve good a good nucleus of players who can shoot from outside and drive to the basket –and good passers – then the cream will come to the top, and that’s what we had. We had a great bunch of guys that just loved to play basketball and loved to win. If we won, great, and if we lost, then we’d go back to the practice court, figure out what we’d done wrong and correct it for the next game.

Everything came together for you as a senior – you led the nation in scoring, and you led the Jayhawks to the 1952 NCAA Championship. You were All-Big Seven, All-America, and the Helms Foundation NCAA Player of the Year. Take me back to that senior season.

Fortunately, we had a great nucleus of ball players. We had a range of guys that could play the game, and bring their own unique skills to the team – whether it was passing, rebounding, defense, or scoring. We started off winning , and kept winning until we hit a snag and lost two games in a row. Phog was upset. We worked very hard in practice after that second loss, because he knew – and we knew – that we couldn’t lose any more or we weren’t going to win the Big Seven and have a chance to win the national championship. Well, we didn’t lose any other games after that. Every game we played, we played the game hard and we played it to have fun…and we played it to the best of our ability – both individually, and as a team. I can’t speak for the other guys on the team – Glenn Hart, Robert Kenney, the Kelley brothers and the rest – but I think we had a mindset that we were going to go out and play hard every game, do the best that we could, and do what Phog wanted us to do. And, as it turned out, we won the Big Seven and went on to become national champions.

You scored 141 points on your way to earning tournament MVP honors. How were you able to dominate the best teams in the nation?

I don’t know if you can call it providence, but we were determined to fulfill the prophecy that Phog had given to us as freshmen. We came together, and the team as a whole was unstoppable. And I think I just came to the point in my career where I understood what was expected of me if we were going to win the national championship. I knew that I needed to raise the level of my game. It had to be better than what I’d produced during the regular season, although I had a great regular season my senior year. It had to be better because one loss in a tournament means that your season is over – and, in the case of the seniors, that meant the end of a college career.

Were you the Big Man on Campus after winning that championship?

In high school I was 6′-8″ and head-and-shoulders above everybody else. It got to the point that I became very shy. I didn’t go out very much. I didn’t want to be looked at or stared at. But by my junior and senior years I had blossomed as an athlete, becoming an All-State basketball player and gaining recognition for what I could do on the court. I started dating, and I found a good core of friends to bum around with together – I was very careful in that regard, because sometimes I think my popularity as a basketball player made me popular with a lot of the guys and girls at school. I never let them get to the point to where they were using me. I kept my distance from the ones who wanted to be associated with me simply so that they could say ‘Look who I know’.

When I first got into college it was a completely different atmosphere. In college they don’t know who you are and they don’t really care. They’re interested in getting an education. But once I started playing basketball I found myself in the same situation, with people wanting to latch onto me because I was a high-profile athlete. They were more interested in who I was, and it made them look good to be seen with someone who was doing well in that regard. So even though I was more of an extrovert in college, I still chose my friends very carefully. I wanted people to associate themselves with me because of who I was, and not what I did as an athlete. And when we went out, we didn’t talk about basketball. We didn’t talk about the big game the team had just played, or the big game that was coming up. We talked about other things – what was going on in the State of Kansas, or what was going on in the world.

It was like that in other parts of the country as well – pretty much wherever we played. There were always people – hangers-on, I called them – who loved to come around the locker room, get an autograph and hang out with you for a little bit. And then other people would see them hanging around the athletes, and it would give them a bloated ego. So we as players just had to be careful about who we associated with.

Following college, the Olympics beckoned. Where does this rank in terms of your athletic achievements?

I think the Olympics ranks at the top, because it was so much bigger than anything else I’d ever accomplished as an athlete. I think that that’s only natural, because if you win an award for Kansas, playing Kansas basketball, you win it for two groups of people other than yourself – you win it for Kansas University, and you win it for the State of Kansas. So when I was named All-American, the award meant something to me, Phog, KU and the people in Kansas who I represented. But when I won a gold medal, it was much higher honor because I was representing the United States in the Olympics. No longer was I representing a single state. I was representing millions of Americans with my behavior, my ability, and my performance on the basketball court. That meant a whole lot to me. Much more than just representing the state and the university. There were only five-hundred athletes in the world who were selected to compete in the Olympics. So that in itself was a great honor. And to be able to win a gold medal is almost beyond words, because I won it first for the American people, then the State of Kansas, then Kansas University, then Phog, and finally myself. That’s the order in which it mattered to me. If you watch the Olympics today, most of the athletes are concerned only with themselves – not all of them, of course, but the vast majority. And with basketball you have pro players on the roster. When I played it was all amateur athletes, and I think that it meant more because of that. So you find that most of the athletes today just go to the Games with the USA logo on their back. They don’t place representing their country at the top of their priority list.

After the Olympics, you spent a year playing amateur basketball, winning the National AAU title with Phillips Petroleum (1953). Please take me back to this period on your life.

After graduation, a lot of ballplayers went on to play in the Industrial League, which was comprised of approximately twenty-eight teams located all over the country. And the teams represented big corporations in various industries such as banking and petroleum. There were teams sponsored by Phillips, Goodyear, Caterpillar, and so forth. Players would graduate from college and go to work for these companies – and by work, I mean taking real, nine-to-five jobs that paid a salary and included benefits such as vacation and sick leave – and, in the process, get a jump on a business career.

When I went to interview with Phillips, I learned that eighty percent of the ballplayers were still on the payroll – and this was from the inception of the Industrial League. So I was impressed by that, and I decided to go to work for Phillips. I was in chemical sales. I was behind a desk, which I didn’t like much, but every once in awhile I would get out. But during basketball season I’d get to practice every day, and then I’d get to travel with the team to the games. Phillips had a private plane for the team, and we traveled first class; in many respects, I think it was much better than when I started playing in the pros. In the pros we had eight teams, four in the East and four in the West, and the travel and accommodations weren’t as good as what we had with Phillips.

I remember making a remark that I was happy to be playing with Phillips in the amateurs, and that I never really considered going pro. Shortly after that, I read a comment by “Easy” Ed Macauley, which quoted him as saying that the amateurs was the best place for me. He told the reporter that he didn’t think that I could make it in the NBA. He later said that he didn’t make the comment, and that it was written out of context, but I used that as a source of tremendous motivation. I took that as a challenge. I played one year with Phillips and then told the company president that I wanted to try the NBA. He said that he was sorry to see me go, but he understood and wished me luck. The next year I was playing center with the Minneapolis Lakers, behind the great George Mikan.

Please tell me a little about Mr. Mikan, and also about the experience of winning the NBA championship as a rookie with Lakers.

You don’t have enough time for me to tell you about Mikan [laughs]. I didn’t follow the pros at that time – I didn’t know too many players in the pros, so when I signed the contract to go to Minneapolis and they told me about George Mikan…well, I had to read about George Mikan to find out what everyone was talking about. He was the biggest guy in the NBA, an All-Star, the leading scorer and rebounder…everything that I read about him seemed larger than life. And then meeting him at that first practice was an awesome sight, because George was a full inch taller than me and outweighed me by at least twenty-five pounds. He had square shoulders, and he was very powerful – he was all man.

I was twenty-one at the time, and George was in his thirties – he had already been in the league a number of years, because he retired the year after I got there. He was a truly dominating player. I don’t mean this in a bad way, but George was also a mean, aggressive ballplayer. When he got the ball he wanted to put the ball in the hole, and you’d better be out of the way – if not, he’d want to take you, the ball and everything else and try very hard to put it all in the basket [laughs]. I learned from George very early on that if I was going to stay in the league any length of time – and I planned on staying in the pros a number of years, and not getting booted out as a rookie and having nothing to do – then playing the physical part of the game was a must. George also taught me that if I was going to be squeamish, then I wasn’t going to make it in the league. I learned very quickly that I had to take it, that I had to dish it out, and that I had to be prepared to take it again, because they were going to come right back at me and try to do the very same thing. So I learned a lot from George that first year. I played behind him. I played some when he was injured. We got in together in a dual post attack. And we had a great supporting cast – we had Vern Mikkelson on one side, we had Jim Pollard on the other. We had Slater Martin and Whitey Skoog, and George in the middle. We had All-Americans sitting on the bench. It was just a great, great experience to be a part of that, and to win an NBA title that first year.

You finished in the NBA’s top 10 in scoring, rebounding, and field-goal percentage in your first season as a starter. A year later you ranked fourth in the NBA in scoring (22.1 PPG), third in rebounds (14.0 RPG), and sixth in field-goal percentage (434 percent). Were you surprised at how quickly you became one of the leagues’ most dominant players?

Yeah, because when I first came into the league George was the biggest player in the NBA. But by my second season they started getting bigger players in the league – there was suddenly a bunch of guys 6’10” and 6’11”, so I had to adapt to playing inside and outside. I had to learn more about team play, because I had to really work the ball to score. I had to be patient, and trust that I’d get the ball back if I gave it up. And I worked hard in the off-season to get better. Coming out of college, I thought that everything was going to be as easy as it was for me at Kansas. I found out very quickly that that wasn’t the case. Every NBA roster was stocked with guys who had been All-Conference, or All-American. They were the top players at their schools. They might not have been the leading scorers in the nation, but they were pretty close. So I had to adjust. I learned that you just can’t put your sneakers out on the court and not be able to fill them. I had to be ready to play.

The Minneapolis Lakers and the Boston Celtics conducted annual preseason barnstorming tours throughout New England, often playing up to 17 games in twenty-one days. What memories to you have of these exhibitions, and what was your first impression of the Celtics’ brash young coach, Arnold “Red” Auerbach?

When you play that many games on that many nights, and you ride the bus with the other team…well, the first night and the first game is pretty nice. Everybody got along and everyone sat with one another and talked about a lot of things. And no one was really interested in whether you won or lost. But all of that changed after the second or third game that you played. Tempers got raw. Sometimes you wouldn’t be sitting with a Boston Celtic. You’d be sitting with a Minneapolis Laker. Or you’d be sitting on one side of the bus and they’d be sitting on the other. And sometimes it got kind of hairy [laughs]. But overall, it was a good experience. You got your training, you got your workout, you got in shape…all of those things…but sometimes it got a little tight with the players you were competing against. It might be someone you had just finished hitting in a game, or someone you might have outscored, or someone that you fouled hard – and then you had to get on the bus and sit near him…or even right beside him. Of course they don’t do that now, but it was an experience that every ballplayer should go through once.

After the 1957 NBA Playoffs, you were dealt to the Rochester. Please tell me about your time with the Royals.

Rochester at one time was a great franchise. When they moved to Cincinnati, I guess [Royals owner] Les Harrison got some tax breaks or something, or maybe a break on the rent. I’m not really sure why Harrison decided to move, but I thought he was a nice guy, and we had some good talent the year that I was there. Jack Twyman was there, and Maurice Stokes. Stokes got sick the year that I got there. He would have been a superstar in the NBA. We had George King and myself. We had some good ballplayers, but I wasn’t happy in Cincinnati. So it was sort of a stop-off place. I wanted to go straight from Minneapolis to St. Louis, because Ben Kerner had drafted me to come to Milwaukee and I then didn’t go there. I think he’d been a little bit disappointed that I didn’t end up with him in the first place, because I would have played in Milwaukee and probably would have been part of the move to St. Louis.

It was contract time, and Harrison met with me and said that he was going to cut salaries. I said ‘No thanks’, and asked to be traded. I had no idea where I was going, but I was happy to end up in St. Louis. Bob Pettit was there, and Cliff Hagan. Slater Martin came out of Minneapolis and he was there. Jack Mcmahon. Sihugo Green. So there was a good nucleus of ballplayers, and they had just won the championship the year before. I thought I could fit right in. Charlie Share was the center. I had to beat him out – we split time the first half of my first season in St. Louis, and then he was traded to Minneapolis.

But back to your question – Cincinnati was just a blur. If I’d have stayed there long enough I would have gotten to play with Oscar Robertson. Who knows, maybe we would have won a championship.

In St. Louis, you played with former Celtic great “Easy” Ed Macauley.

“Easy” was a very good ballplayer when he played for the Boston Celtics. I ran into him a lot of times when I was with Minneapolis and Cincinnati. We had great battles. Then he went to St. Louis, where he played and became the team’s head coach. But you have to remember that when I got to St. Louis, “Easy” was in the twilight of his career. He was a fine man.

The two players that I like to talk about the most are Pettit and Hagan. When I played with Cliff and Bob, it was like a trio made in heaven. I don’t know what it was. The three of us just jelled together, we had our own roles to play, and we knew how to move in each other’s space on the court. I could be inside, I could go outside. I developed the one-handed outside shot – it would be a three-pointer today. Cliff could move inside. We could switch the defense – if we had a big guy on me, like Wilt Chamberlain, I could move him out and then Pettit and Hagan could have free reign inside. For the four years that I played as a starter for St. Louis, we were the top scoring frontline in the NBA. So we had a really good nucleus until I got hurt. I tore my Achilles tendon, and that’s when Boston picked me up for the final two years.

The Hawks reached the NBA Finals a year later, falling to the Boston Celtics in an exciting seven game series. What was it like to compete against Bill Russell?

I’ve always said that if I were going to start an NBA franchise, I’d want to have a Bill Russell. Then I would fill in around him. I played against Russell for many years when I was with Minneapolis and St. Louis. He was by far the most difficult player I’d ever played against, because he was so quick. Defensively, he was the best player in NBA history. Offensively, he wasn’t the most overpowering. He could score, but his main prowess was rebounding, kicking the ball out, and running the court. To me, Russell is the greatest ever. They talk about Chamberlain, and they talk about Russell, and I really believe that Russell had the heart to be a champion. Not to disparage Chamberlain, but he just didn’t have the same kind of heart. You could see the spurt every once in awhile. He would have that determination and killer instinct, but he just didn’t have it consistently. He could always score, but guys could score on him as well. The Celtics were the Celtics, but they became champions when they got Russell.

Just how good were the Celtics in this series?

People talk about the coaching ability of Red Auerbach, but I think Red Auerbach was a great psychologist because he kept the egos on that team to where he could manage them, and to where the players could play to the best of their ability. To me, the Celtics weren’t a group of individuals. They were a collection of individual stars that could play together for a common goal – winning championships. You had All-Stars in five areas – Bill Russell, Bob Cousy, Bill Sharman, Tom Heinsohn, and either of the Jones Boys [Sam or KC]. So when the team took the court you could have five All-Stars playing at the same time; and yet, when they played together they weren’t playing as five individual All-Stars. They worked together as a unit, and nobody on that team cared about getting the most points, or the most assists, or whatever the case may have been. If a Sam Jones stepped up and had a big night, the other four players were happy to do the other things to help the team win. There wasn’t a jealous bone on the floor. They were truly a family, a group of guys that really enjoyed one another.

When I joined the team, I had to be invited into the family. I wasn’t brought in immediately. They had to find out what kind of individual that I was, and how I could get along with the other players on the team – or couldn’t get along, if that happened to be the case. They knew that I’d been an All-Star prior to coming to Boston, but that really didn’t matter to them. They were looking for how well I fit into the family framework that was in place. They didn’t want anybody in there that was going to stir the pot, so to speak.

Just when it looked like your career might be over, Red Auerbach and the Boston Celtics came calling. What made Auerbach such a great coach, and how did he compare to Phog Allen?

Like Red, Phog was a great psychologist. He had a great assistant coach in Dick Harp, who helped take care of the X’s and O’s. But Phog kept us all in line. If you got out of line, or got to thinking that you were bigger than you really were, then Phog would bring you back down. Red was the same way. Now as far as X’s and O’s, I think Red had a group of guys who wanted to play and wanted to win, and he gave them the tools as far as plays, to accomplish that feat. And then he let the guys go out and play. Red let Cousy and Bill go out and play ball – he knew what they could do. He just got his point across in practices, pointing out mechanics and technique, and come game time he trusted that his players would execute on both ends of the court. And then he kept them together psychologically. I think that Phog was the same way – in many respects they were very similar in their approach to the game…of course, Phog didn’t smoke cigars – but Red sure did [laughs].

You began your NBA career by winning a championship as a backup to the great George Mikan, and finished it by winning two as a backup to the incomparable Bill Russell. What was it like to play with Russell, and what was it like to win those titles in Boston?

Well, it was definitely better playing with him than against him [laughs]. Once you got to know him, Bill was a great guy. Just to sit on the bench and watch him play, it didn’t seem as though he ever got older. It seemed like he could go on and on forever, even though age catches up with everybody. But there were nights when he’d play the whole game – forty-eight minutes – and you could only sit back and marvel and how he could do that after playing in the league for ten-plus years. Of course, it was my job to be his backup, so there were nights when I didn’t step foot on the floor.

Every once in awhile I’d get to go in and play. I remember one time, Bill got poked in the eye and had to come out. I went in against Walt Bellamy and had one heck of a night. I scored over twenty points that night. So every once in a while I could still have spurts [laughs]. But I was there in the twilight of my career, enjoying playing when I did, and enjoying watching guys like John Havlicek play ball. He was rookie during my first year with the team. He was really something special. And, as you’ve mentioned, I was able to win a couple of championships before I retired from basketball. It was really special to be a part of the Boston Celtics.

On May 3, 1988 you received basketball’s highest honor – enshrinement in the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame. Please take me back to that special day.

Anytime you get honored by your peers, it has to be considered a great honor. You have to be voted in – I think there are eighteen people on the panel who have to endorse you, so it’s very special to be selected. You look at the players in there – guys like George Mikan, and even guys farther back than that…guys like Bob Kurland, who I’d heard about but had never seen play – and you realize how great a thrill it is to be selected. It’s something that I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.

You were the first player to play on an NCAA, Olympic and NBA championship team – a feat that has been duplicated only three times since. What does this mean to you?

Either I was awfully lucky, or the teams that I played on – and I give credit to my teammates for this distinction – were awfully talented. Because without the other players you can’t win. The kids that I played with at Kansas and in the pros, and in the Olympics…they were the reason that I won at those levels. I just wish that I could have won the state championship in 1947, because then I would have had a title at all levels. We came ten points shy [laughs].

Final Question: You’ve achieved great success in your life. If you could offer one piece of advice on life to others, what would that be?

In 1980, I was fifty years old. I’d played a lot of ball, and I’d won a lot of awards, and I was generally looked upon as a great success in the world of athletics, but I wasn’t fulfilled. Everything changed that year, because I gave my life to Jesus Christ. Athletes today need to realize that all the money that they make, all the accolades that they receive…those things will fade. Their popularity will fade. My advice is to look for something permanent, and for something that is going to be eternal. Jesus Christ is the answer.

Celtics Dynasty (1957-1969), Featured Interview

The Larry Siegfried Interview

By: Michael D. McClellan | He was a high school phenom, a Paul Bunyan in basketball shorts, a player would later join John Havlicek and Jerry Lucas on a championship quest at Ohio State. That Larry Siegfried would eventually follow Havlicek to professional glory with the Boston Celtics is hardly surprising: Siegfried’s sweet shooting touch and trip-hammer release translated well from high school to college, and then again into the pros, his presence on the Celtic roster helping keep basketball’s greatest dynasty rolling through the close of the 1960s.

Siegfried, who grew up on the rolling farmland just outside of Shelby, Ohio, spent countless hours shooting baskets against the family barn. The ball and the hoop were relatively inexpensive toys for a blue-collar family on a budget. Siegfried often shot alone, honing his jumper, playing imaginary games against All-Americans like Ralph Beard and Alex Groza of Kentucky, or Dick Schnittker of Ohio State. At Shelby High School, Siegfried found himself playing both inside and out, rarely resting on the bench during a phenomenal senior season, the All-State guard a constant headache for opposing coaches tasked with slowing him down. Siegfried averaged a whopping 38 points-per-game during that final campaign in ‘57, leading Shelby to a state basketball championship. He was named co-recipient of Ohio’s Player-of-the-Year Award in the process, a year before Jerry Lucas would claim the same honor.

For Siegfried, playing for his home state Buckeyes seemed a match made in heaven; the team was a national power, and head coach Fred Taylor was promising a system built around his athleticism and versatility. The Buckeyes roared to the 1960 Big Ten Championship during his junior season, with five starters – Siegfried, Lucas, Havlicek, Mel Nowell and Joe Roberts – all later playing in the NBA. Ohio State then dominated California 75-55 to win the 1960 national championship.

“I had a love affair with those kids,” Taylor would say years later. “They weren’t very sound defensively at the start of the season. As they progressed, they could play pretty thorny defense.”

There would be plenty of winning the next season, Siegfried’s last as a member of the Buckeyes. The team would finish the regular season undefeated, capture another Big Ten Championship, and then make an encore appearance in the championship game. OSU was 27-0 when it landed in the 1961 final against intrastate rival Cincinnati, only to find itself deadlocked with the Bearcats, 61-61, at the end of regulation. The Bearcats then pulled away, 70-65 in overtime, behind the play of Bob Wiesenhahn and Tom Thacker, ending OSU’s dream of repeating as national champs.

The Cincinnati Royals nabbed Siegfried with the third overall selection in the 1961 NBA Draft, but he opted to sign with the ABL Cleveland Pipers instead. Cincinnati dealt his draft rights to St. Louis during the 1963-64 regular season, only to waive Siegfried before ever signing him to a contract.

Red Auerbach and the Boston Celtics were kings of the NBA when Siegfried hit the waiver wire, winners of six championships in a seven-year span, including five in a row. With Bill Sharman’s retirement in 1961, followed by Bob Cousy’s departure two years later, the Celtics were a team in need of depth in the backcourt. Auerbach paid the $1,000 waiver fee, and Siegfried joined the Celtics midway through the 1963-64 regular season. Ironically, the Cincinnati Royals would await Boston in the Eastern Finals, providing Siegfried with an added measure of motivation. He played sparingly in that series, but he played well when called up, and the Celtics rolled to a 4-1 victory and a chance to win a record sixth consecutive NBA crown. Three weeks later the Celtics would defeat the San Francisco Warriors 105-99 in Game 5 of the 1964 NBA Finals, and Siegfried would add an NBA Championship to the collegiate title that he had won at OSU.

The following season a mature Larry Siegfried eased comfortably into his niche. With the benefit of a full training camp under his belt, and with a newfound trust placed in him by Auerbach, Siegfried played in 72 games and upped his scoring average to 6.3 PPG. Loathe to fill a specific roll at Ohio State, he was now the first guard off of the bench – and loving every minute of it. The Celtics stormed to a 62-18 regular season record and into the 1965 Eastern Finals. It was there, in Game 7, that John Havlicek made his incredible steal to preserve a 110-109 lead and send the Philadelphia 76ers packing. Siegfried, now an official part of the Celtic Family, found himself in a second consecutive NBA Finals. A 4-1 dispatching of the Los Angeles Lakers brought yet another championship to Boston. The Celtics, with Siegfried in tow, were now on an undeniable roll of near mythic proportions.

The 1965-66 season would be Auerbach’s last on the bench. With it came an eighth consecutive NBA crown, and a greater roll for Siegfried. He finished the season as the team’s third leading scorer (13.7 PPG), this despite not starting, and burnished his reputation as an all-around talent off of the bench. A year later his average increased yet again, to 14.1 PPG, but the Celtics’ championship run was history. Wilt Chamberlain and the 76ers were the new kings of the NBA. Boston, led by player-coach Bill Russell, looked old and unable to continue its dominance of the 1960s.

All of that changed a year later. The 1967-68 Celtics went 54-28, and then upset the heavily favored Sixers 4-3 in the Eastern Finals. A 4-2 defeat of the Los Angeles Lakers gave Russell & Co. an incredible 10 titles in twelve years. Siegfried averaged 12.2 PPG. More importantly, he now had four NBA championships in five years with the Celtics.

Another championship would follow in 1969. Russell and Sam Jones would bow out as champions, and the team would go into rebuilding mode. Tommy Heinsohn would take over as head coach, and the team would select All-American guard Jo Jo White from Kansas in the 1969 NBA Draft. A year later the Celtics left Siegfried unprotected in the NBA expansion draft. He would play parts of two seasons for the San Diego/Houston Rockets, and then finish his career after 21 games with the Atlanta Hawks. Through it all he remained a Celtic at heart, thankful for his place in history and his role on greatest dynasty the NBA has ever known.

You were born on May 22nd, 1939, in Shelby, Ohio. Please tell me a little about your childhood.

I was raised on a farm, so I spent most of my youth working on the farm. I came from a very modest family. My father worked in a factory. I didn’t have all of the toys that everyone else had, so I had to figure out something that I could do on my own. Basketball was a cheap play and didn’t require anyone else to be there, so that’s kind of how I got started. Dad bought me a basketball and put up a hoop. I remember playing alone, for hours on end, out there by the garage.

By all accounts, you were a pretty good high school basketball player.

Being a farm type of kid, I had a pretty good work ethic. Being competitive also helped. My senior year was a wild experience, because we got beat in the regional finals and I averaged over 40 points per game. My high school coach was smart enough to recognize that I was versatile and could do a lot of things really well. He said that if I was going to make it in college, then I was going to have to make it as a guard. He structured the offense in a way that allowed me to play outside as well as inside. From that experience I was able to learn all of the positions of the game of basketball. I was 6’3” or 6’4”, and I played center, forward and guard.

You had good size for a guard.

At that time, a 6’4” guard was unheard of at the high school level. Heck, back then there weren’t that many guards in the Big Ten that size. Oscar [Robertson] played forward in college. He may have brought the ball up the court because he had that ability, but he wasn’t what I’d call a legitimate guard.

You couldn’t play multiple positions in college.

Being able to do a lot of things as a high school basketball player was a very positive experience. But as I progressed to the next level, I ran into more specialization. Specialization has its place, but it becomes a liability to a player who is capable of doing a variety of things on the court. That’s exactly what happened to me at Ohio State.

Please tell me about your relationship with the legendary Fred Taylor.

First of all, I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that I had problems with my college coach. When I signed with Ohio State, I was being recruited for my versatility. It was my understanding that the offense at Ohio State would resemble the system that I’d played in high school, and that I would be able to utilize my talents all over the court. Freshman weren’t allowed to play varsity ball back then, so a whole year passed before I started to see what was really happening. As a sophomore, I was either one or two in the Big Ten in scoring, but I was gradually being moved away from the role I’d played in high school. The key word is gradual. I got a taste of varsity ball that sophomore season, and while it wasn’t exactly what I’d been doing at Shelby, I was still somewhat of a focal point in the offense. The following year is when [Jerry] Lucas and [John] Havlicek came into the program, and my role on the team changed. Suddenly, I became just a guard. It was very frustrating.

With the influx of talent, did others have to make sacrifices?

Take Luke [Jerry Lucas] for a second. Luke was a great high school center. He went to Ohio State and he was a great college center. His role really didn’t change much from one level to the next. My situation was different. In high school, I was doing everything, and suddenly as a junior at Ohio State I was just a guard. It was a terrible, terrible experience for me, because I’d had all of this freedom in high school and suddenly I’m playing a very specialized role in the system at Ohio State. Now, was I recruited wrong? Was I used wrong? There were a lot of people who questioned whether my talents were utilized to the fullest in college.

Did you communicate this frustration to Coach Taylor?

I spoke to Fred about it on many occasions. Luke was good on the high post, because he was such a good shooter from the perimeter. I said, ‘Fred, play Luke at the high post once in a while, and let me go down low and post up.’ But he never allowed me to do that. To me it didn’t make sense. As a 6’4” guard in the Big Ten, that size was unheard back then. I had guys guarding me that were 5’10”, 5’11”, so most of the time I had a great size advantage. It was like having a fly nipping at my feet all game long, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t go down low and overpower my man. In high school I’d go low and score. If the opposing coach adjusted by playing someone bigger, then I’d go back outside and score from there. But Fred didn’t want to run the high post, which I never understood. If the opposing center had sagged off of Luke to help guard me, I could have kicked the ball back out to Luke for a shot at the top of the key. He had great range, and as a pro he proved that he could scored from the perimeter. He would have hit that shot all night long.

Did you ever consider transferring?

No, it was a different era back then. And let’s be clear, it’s not that I wanted to shoot the ball every time. That was never, never how I wanted to be utilized. I found out later that all of the guys were frustrated, because we had all of that talent and only one ball. Here I am, getting six shots a game, after getting twice that as a sophomore. But we won, so I guess everybody’s happy. That was the main thing above all else, so I tried to do what I could do within the context of how I was being utilized. I tried to take advantage of my ability at all times, given the situation, and I tried to do my part to help the team win.

Coach Taylor is a coaching legend.

He gets all of the credit for developing the defensive aspect of my game. Fred was friendly with Pete Newell, who coached at California, and he got a lot of information from Pete on how to build team defense. This was the summer prior to that 1960 championship season. Fred got all of us to buy into that thing. Bob Knight was on that team, and look what he learned from that experience, and how he applied those concepts to win three championships as the head coach at Indiana. I owe a lot to Fred for what he taught me, but I’m not going to sit here and tell you that he and I had it peachy-peachy.

What was it like to win the national title as a member of your home state Buckeyes?

I was ecstatic, because winning covers up a multitude of sins. It was great. The following year – my senior year – I accepted my role because it was my last season of collegiate basketball. Maybe I’m off base, but I still feel that I was never utilized properly. One of my assistant college coaches told me one time that in the recruiting process, the thing that you don’t want to do is overdo recruiting. Sometimes you can pull in too much talent, and you find that the pieces don’t fit. When I say they don’t fit, I mean that they’re not a healthy fit. We had so much talent at Ohio State that I’m not sure it fit, but we made it fit because we had good kids. You know what I mean? There wasn’t a bad kid on the floor. As soon as we stepped on the court we all played together. But as I look back, there was a lot of frustration on that team. Maybe we had too much talent.

A year later you battle Ed Jucker’s Cincinnati squad for the national championship.

We were undefeated going into the final game. In my opinion, we would have beaten that team nine out of the ten times that we played them. We were the defending champions, so the pressure was clearly on us. We were 31-0 and we played the title game in Kansas City.

What happened?

There were no locker rooms in the facility. You had to dress at the hotel, and then walk across the tunnel connecting the hotel to the stadium. Now remember, we were the defending champions. The consolation game was played first, I think it went into two or three overtimes. When you’re the defending champions, I believe that you’ve got to prime the pump and be ready to play, because the pressure is on you. Do you agree? We were supposed to start the championship game at 7:30 PM – that’s when we were supposed to take to the floor – but by the time we walked onto the floor we were already out of sync. I remember walking onto the court and being unable to find the basketballs. From there the whole game was just an uphill battle. When we were teammates in Boston, Tom Thacker once told me that, to a man, Cincinnati never expected to beat us in that championship game. But I give Cincinnati all of the credit. They beat us fair and square.

You were honored as an AP, UPI, and Helms Foundation All-American. What did these honors mean to you then, and what do they mean to you now?

At that time you’re a kid, and you really can’t comprehend it. As I look back, the awards and accolades don’t mean much to me anymore. It’s what I’ve learned from those experiences – the things that I carried into my life, the things that have become a part of my existence and my being – that mean the most. Being named All-American doesn’t define who I am as a person. The man that I am today is a result of the experiences that I’ve had, good and bad. I am who I am today because of those things.

Two of your teammates were also honored as All-Americans. Please tell me a little about Jerry Lucas and John Havlicek.

Luke’s high school and college careers are second to none. He had great hands, good jumping ability, could run the floor, could pass the ball. He was a good shooter, a good rebounder. He took Ohio State to the national championship game three years running. That speaks for itself. In my opinion, John was a better athlete than he was a basketball player. I don’t mean that in a negative way. I’m saying that Luke was a basketball player. I would consider myself a basketball player. John was a great athlete who happened to play basketball.

Havlicek was also a pretty good football player.

John was drafted to play football and had a decent shot at making the Cleveland Browns. He could play baseball. He was an outstanding athlete. At Ohio State, could John dribble and do all of the things that a pure basketball player might be able to do? No, but he had a good work ethic, played unselfishly, and had a great career in the NBA. In fact, I think he had a better pro career than he did in college. That’s my opinion. He blossomed with the Celtics – he ran wild and shot the ball – but I don’t think he reached his full potential at Ohio State.

That team was also known for its academics.

The year we won the national championship, I think our starting five averaged a 3.6 GPA out of 4.0. I’m not saying that we were high IQ, but we were kids who worked hard, studied hard, and did well in the classroom. The thing I’m saying is that the team was a very intelligent club. So, when Fred got the information to teach us, the kids that we had were able to learn it, absorb it, and play it. I would say that there are very few clubs that could carry out and execute a game plan like that group of kids. Not only because of the athleticism of the team, but also because of our intelligence.

You were the third overall selection 1961 NBA Draft, chosen by the Cincinnati Royals, but you jumped leagues and signed with the Pipers instead.

That’s a simple matter. In ’61, the University of Cincinnati had beaten us in the finals for the national championship. There was so much turmoil between the two cities and universities because of the basketball rivalry – it was back and forth, back and forth. There was so much hatred going on between the schools at the time – defacing statues on school grounds, vandalizing classrooms, things like that – so to be perfectly honest with you, that’s the main reason that I didn’t play professional ball in Cincinnati. There was no way that I was going to play ball in Cincinnati. No way. If it had been any other place than Cincinnati, I would have gone. So I signed to play for the Cleveland Pipers in the American Basketball League.

How did that go?

The team was owned by George Steinbrenner. John McClendon of Tennessee State was the head coach, and he practically brought the entire Tennessee State team with him, so I really didn’t get an opportunity to play. Then the league folded, and that was that.

Red Auerbach nabbed you for the $1,000 waiver fee.

It wasn’t that cut and dry. I started teaching school in Columbus and played with an independent basketball team in my spare time. By then, Havlicek was in Boston playing for the Celtics. He called, and he said that he wanted me to travel to Cincinnati because Red wanted to talk. So I went into the locker room prior to the game between the Celtics and Royals, and Red asked me if I’d be interested in playing for the Celtics. I said sure. In the meantime, Cincinnati had traded my rights to St. Louis. So even though I wanted to go to Boston I couldn’t, because my rights belonged to St. Louis. Lucky for me, the Hawks’ first round draft choice that year was a guard, and there was no way the team was going to keep me over him. And that’s what happened. Even though I had a great training camp they still cut me. That’s how I ended up in Boston.

Was the Celtics experience everything that you thought it would be?

In Boston, I knew that I was going into a situation that had been established over a period of time. I was excited about the way they did things. I was in awe of how they played together as a team. To this day I hold those Celtics teams up as the prime example of the team concept. That was what defined them. I tell people that it was the easiest place in the world to play if you were a team player. If you were selfish you wouldn’t last five minutes there.

What was it like for you to win that first NBA championship?

That first championship extended what the Celtics were all about. It was a great thrill to win the title and to experience what that was all about, but the big thing for me was to be a part of that team and play with a group of guys who always – and I mean always – thought about the team ahead of themselves. I’ve been watching sports for a long time, and there has never been another situation like that. It was truly a special place to play basketball.

Red Auerbach’s training camps were legendary. What was it like to meet Red for the first time, and what was that first training camp like for you?

You know what we did the first day of camp? We pressed, man-to-man, from one end of the court to the other. That was the whole scrimmage. First day of practice. What Red wanted to do was find out who was in shape, and who really wanted to be there. And if someone got sick, that person would come out and you’d play five-on-four. That was Red’s philosophy. He wanted a team that was in superior shape. See, he didn’t have to worry about the team concept stuff, because most of the players that he had up there had come from championship college teams. They had the talent and knew how to win. He didn’t have to deal with all of the other stuff that everybody else in the league had to deal with.

Sam and KC Jones learned the Celtic Way while playing behind two hall-of-fame guards, Bob Cousy and Bill Sharman. When you arrived, it was the Jones Boys who helped keep the Celtic Dynasty running. Please tell me a little about Sam and KC.

KC was an outstanding guard who wasn’t the shooter that Sam was, but he was the better defensive player. Sam could shoot the lights out. For me, playing behind those two guys was a thrill because I learned a lot from watching them. Back then, nobody came in off the street and jumped into the Boston Celtics’ starting lineup. You sat behind veterans. You sat, you listened, you learned, and you gradually worked yourself into the rotation. That was the Celtic Way.

Walter Brown passed away on September 7th, 1964. Please tell me a little about the late, great Mr. Brown.

Walter Brown was an owner who really cared about his team. They were winning and that didn’t hurt, either. He wanted to go first class in everything, and it was a first class operation. He was low-key. He was not around that often, and not one to be seen all of the time. You knew who he was, and you respected him because he was the owner. But he wasn’t like some of these guys that you see today, like the owner of the Dallas Mavericks [Mark Cuban], who is on TV every time you turn around. His ego didn’t work that way. In many ways Red was the face man for the Boston Celtics, and not Walter Brown. Walter entrusted Red with all of the details of running the club. It was Red’s baby in terms of the finances, contracts, and the day-to-day operation of the Boston Celtics.

How unselfish were those teams?

One year Sam Jones led the team in scoring with 19 points-per-game, and then there were another five guys bunched together beneath him. Red believed in ball movement. The ball moves, you move, and if you get the ball in an open spot, you take the shot. If not, then you move it to someone else. And it worked. The focus was right, and everything else followed.

The incomparable Bill Russell was the heart-and-soul of the Celtic Dynasty.

We could go on for days about Bill Russell. Bill Russell was, in my opinion, the greatest team player who ever lived. Why? Because Bill Russell has the most championships. Some people will point to Wilt Chamberlain as the best center ever. But who has the most championships? Russell. Eleven championships in thirteen years, and nobody in the NBA will ever surpass that. You’ve got free agency, you’ve got salary caps, you’ve got all of these things to contend with today. People talk about Michael Jordan as the best basketball player ever, but again, the bottom line is championships. Bill Russell has the most championships of any team player. And he was the focal point of everything the Boston Celtics did as a team – he was the defensive stopper, he was the trigger man for the fast break, he was the one who made the Celtics so tough underneath the basket. When he was right and when he was healthy, you could not beat him. You could book that. The only time the Celtics lost an NBA Finals during Russell’s career was in ’58, his second season in the league. The Celtics were up on the Hawks early in that series, but then Russell sprained his ankle and St. Louis went on to win the championship. That was the only time. Otherwise, you simply couldn’t beat him. You’re not going to beat his team. It ain’t going to happen. The rest of the league found that out pretty quick, and it was something that you could count on for the better part of thirteen years.

I take it Russell wasn’t concerned about touches.

The beautiful thing about Bill Russell was that he was a defensive player. He didn’t need a ton of shots to be happy, like some of these guys you see today. He was a team player. That’s what made it exciting. The whole thing about the Boston situation was the philosophy of team. Bill Russell epitomized that. I’m a firm believer that, in order to win, two things need to happen – you have to play defense and you have to move the ball. In Boston, the ball always moved because the focal point was defense. It was never offense. And the offense a derivative of the defense. If you wanted to watch the game from the bench, you didn’t play defense. And if you played defense, you were going to score because defense generated ball movement. It was a very unselfish situation. Today, the situation is often reversed. If a guy is shooting well, then he’ll play defense. And if he’s not shooting well, he won’t play any defense at all. It was just the opposite in Boston.

Russell was the ultimate bottom line winner.

I remember one time when we were playing Philadelphia, and the Sixers had the ball with a few seconds left. Russ called timeout – he was the player/coach at that time – and he said, ‘If everybody boxes out their man, I’ll get the ball.’ And that was it. End of conversation. We did our jobs, Russ got the ball, and we went down the court and scored and won the game. Now, if you want to get raked over the coals in that situation, you don’t do your job. You let your man get by you and score. Russ expected you to take care of your assignment, and if you did that, then he was going to take care of the rest.

Everybody talks about Wilt being this force of nature. Do you think Russell gets enough credit for his athleticism?

No, not even close. One time we were playing Los Angeles in the NBA Finals, and somebody stole the ball at half court and went the other way to lay it in. Russell was at the foul line, and he took off, and he raced down the floor. And when that kid – I can’t remember who it was – laid the ball up on the board, Russell came from nowhere to block the shot. The next day, the picture in the paper showed Russ parallel to the floor, arms extended, as he flicked the ball off the board before it ever touched the glass. It was the single most amazing play I’ve ever seen in my life.

What was it like see the greatness of Bill Russell firsthand?

There were nights in the Boston Garden, when Red would press with a small lineup For example, he might put me, KC, Havlicek, Sanders and Russell out there, and order us to press on every possession. There were nights when teams literally couldn’t get the ball past half court. I was a part of that – you can’t imagine the pressure. Put yourself on the opposing team; we steal the ball, make the shot, and you have to bring the ball up the court. And we’re right there in your face. Then, if you’re somehow able to beat us, you know the chances are pretty good that you’re going to get your shot blocked. The next time you don’t take it inside because you’re afraid you’ll get your shot blocked by Russell. So you sag back to get a little breathing room, and then we apply even more pressure. And that’s the way we won. And all of that pressure was possible because of Russell.

Red always used to say that whenever we had offensive lapses we had a defensive problem. We weren’t focusing on defense. We were too preoccupied with offense. So how did he rectify that problem? He’d call timeout and go to full court pressure, which would eliminate the offensive focus entirely. Trust me, you can’t press like that and focus on your offensive game. It was come as a result of the defensive pressure – points off of turnovers, quick baskets, whatever. And if you weren’t out there pressing, then you were coming out of the game. It was that simple. It was a great weapon for us. And all of that pressure was magnified tenfold with Russell on the floor. He was that good. There will never be another Bill Russell.

The ’65 playoffs produced one of the most dramatic moments in NBA history, made famous by Johnny Most’s legendary radio call. Tell me about Havlicek’s iconic steal.

I wasn’t in the game at that time – I was watching it from the bench. We were playing the 76ers, and at that time they had Wilt Chamberlain, Luke Jackson, Chet Walker and Billy Cunningham. That series was an absolute war. Philly scored and we had the lead by one point. Time was running out. All we have to do is inbound the basketball, go up the court and the game’s over. What happened was this – in the old Boston Garden the baskets were supported by guide wires that held the baskets up. Russ threw the ball down court on the inbounds play, and it hit one of those guide wires and dropped straight down. Philadelphia got the ball back under their own basket with maybe five or six seconds left on the clock. Red calls timeout. Hal Greer inbounded the ball, and then Havlicek got his hand on it. He deflected it to Sam Jones, who took off, and that was the ball game. You just can’t imagine the response from the crowd, but the place really went crazy when Havlicek stole that pass from Greer. It kept the dynasty alive, and we were able to win another championship.

Red Auerbach would bow out the following season with yet another championship, the team’s eighth in a row. What made his teams so special?

All of the kids that played in Boston were kids that came from successful basketball programs. Were they the most talented? No. You had KC and Russell out of San Francisco. You’ve got Bailey Howell out of Mississippi State. You had John and I out of Ohio State. Clyde Lovellette out of Kansas. All of those kids came from great programs. When it comes to the modern athlete, it’s all me, me, me. Look at me. Look at who I am and what I’ve accomplished. The team concept just goes straight out the window. Today, all of the talk is about who’s the best player on a particular team. When that subject comes up about the Boston Celtics I just cut them short, because you can’t divide our team like that. You can’t carve it up into those types of slices. We were a true team in every sense of the word. When I was in Boston, we had the best basketball team in the world. Did we have the most talent? No. Did we have the best team? I repeat: We had the best basketball team in the world.

How was Russell able to manage the dual roles of player and coach?

Very simple: A good team will run itself and coach itself. The only thing you have to do is worry about the substitution patterns and things like that. Russ had no assistants – he was the player/coach. Today, teams have ten assistant coaches and all of this other stuff. For what? Today you’ve got to have a manager and an assistant coach for every position. We made our own adjustments on the floor and in practice. I tell everyone the same thing – if you’ve got a good team, all you have to do is manage it. I don’t want some coach running down my ear trying to call the plays. I know what’s going on. And that’s the way we handled it as a team. We made our own adjustments.

Red always felt that Russell could control himself, and that Russell was the only person really suited to coach Russell. And that was part of Red’s genius. Red was smart enough to know that he didn’t want someone coming in there and disrupting the team. Russell knew himself, and he knew his players. He knew that we were going to take care of our responsibilities, and that we were going to go out there and do our jobs. So all Russell had to do was worry about guys getting tired, rotations, fouls, things like that. He didn’t have to tell Havlicek to be in a certain spot at a certain time. He didn’t have to tell Sam Jones where to be on the fast break. He didn’t have to tell Satch Sanders how to play defense. These things were going to take care of themselves. Why? Because we were a good team. We were mature and we were responsible. We looked out for each other, and we did our jobs.

When the championship streak was snapped in 1967, many experts thought the Celtics were too old to win again. How satisfying was it for you to prove them wrong and win two more rings?

We didn’t have to prove nothing. All we had to do was regroup and do what we needed to do. Winning was so simple and so easy because we played defense, we moved the ball, and we had a good team. All we had to do was regroup. It wasn’t that complex.

How did those aging teams overcome the young talent in Philadelphia and Los Angeles?

What we had with those Celtics teams was a togetherness, a family, a community. The thing that amazes me today is that everyone talks about talent. You can assemble a ton of talent, and sometimes it backfires because that talent isn’t playing together with the same goal in mind. It’s not a team, it’s a collection of talent playing with five different agendas on the same court. Just look at what happened recently in Los Angeles. You had the pieces in place for a dynasty, but the feud between Shaq and Kobe broke that apart. That would never have happened in Boston. You would have never seen Russell and Sam Jones ending up like that. No way.

The Celtics defeated the Lakers in that 1969 NBA Finals, winning that memorable Game 7 in Los Angeles. What stands out?

I remember after Game 2 in L.A., Russell had a locker room meeting. He admitted that he hadn’t played up to his standards, and that he wasn’t ready to compete in that game. He asked us to forgive him, and he told us that we were going to prevail in this series. That we’d somehow find a way to get it done. This was when we were down 0-2. I remember sitting in the locker room prior to Game 7, and he looked at everyone and said, ‘Well, what did I tell you? We’re back, and they’re not going to beat us. We’re going to win this game.’ And the game itself was a nail biter. Russell played all forty-eight minutes. Sam Jones fouled out late, and I had hit two free throws to close the gap to one point. Then Nelson hit that shot on the next possession and we ended up winning the championship.

Just like that, Russell’s great career was over.

I’ll never forget when Russ told me that the spark wasn’t there anymore – I was sitting in a whirlpool in LA prior to Game 7. He said that this was it, that he just didn’t think he could get up for the big games anymore. He knew that he had one more game in him, and he did – we won Game 7 and won the championship. And then he walked away. I’ve always admired that. He had the courage to say, ‘It’s time to get out.’ He could have probably hung around and did his thing, maybe played a few more years, but that wasn’t what Bill Russell was all about.

Final Question: If you could offer one piece of advice on life to others, what would that be?

It’s not about winning championships, it’s not about winning, it’s about getting there. And without a faith in God, everything else is empty.

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