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The Antoine Walker Interview

Written By: Michael D. McClellan | Their journey begins with college basketball’s signature program and culminates with a two-year run as part of the NBA’s most-decorated franchise, their brotherhood built on hoops and hip-hop, their friendship sealed with slam dunks and Soul Train. They win a national championship as part of “The Untouchables,” Rick Pitino’s 1996 UK juggernaut that produces nine NBA players, and then reunite with Pitino protégé Jim O’Brien in Boston, their contributions appreciated but their Finals aspirations unfulfilled. Antoine Walker eventually gets his ring in Miami, winning a title alongside Shaq Diesel and D-Wade, but it’s his financial ruin that grabs the headlines and obscures a solid, 12-year NBA career that includes three All-Star Game appearances. That’s what happens when you blow $108 million in career earnings and land in bankruptcy court. Walker’s running mates, Walter McCarty and Tony Delk, have no rings to sell, but they leave their marks; McCarty plays seven and a half seasons in a Celtics uniform, never reaching the NBA Finals but becoming a fan favorite for his hustle and willingness to do the dirty work. Delk, who plays for eight teams in 10 seasons as the NBA’s quintessential journeyman, brings grit in helping the Celtics reach the 2002 Eastern Conference Finals. Together they grow from boys to men, looping Tupac and Biggie on the way to that ’96 national championship, their combined 32 years in the Association a testament to the professionals they become.

“Friends for life,” Walker says with a smile.

Bright, articulate, and big-hearted, Walker is arguably the most well-known member of the trio, his shimmy celebration floating around message boards, chat rooms, and MySpace pages long before memes become popular. He signs with adidas early in his Celtics career, dubbing himself “Employee No. 8” in one of the company’s shoe commercials, and later, when a reporter asks why he shoots so many threes, he responds, straight-faced, “Because there are no fours.” That the fun-loving Walker is even able to capitalize on his oversized sense of humor qualifies as a minor miracle.

“I was born on the South Side of Chicago, and my mother was a single parent,” he says. “I was the oldest of six, and we grew up poor, so I helped raise my siblings. My neighborhood wasn’t as bad as the press makes it out to be, but it wasn’t the safest place, either. There were gangs and drugs, and plenty of opportunity to get into trouble.”
Basketball provides the escape.

“I came from an athletic family,” says Walker. “My uncle played professional baseball, and he’s a big reason that baseball was my first love. By the eighth grade, I was 6–4, so I shut down my baseball career and pursued basketball. I attended Mount Carmel High School, which was a private school on the South Side of Chicago. My basketball career really took off from there.”

While Walker navigates hood life and hones his game in Chicago, Delk is busy shooting buckets in the country.

“I made my name growing up in Brownsville, Tennessee,” Delk says. “I have brothers who are 15 to 20 years older than me, and they were my role models growing up. They didn’t drink or smoke, and were really good influences. I didn’t get to see them play because I was too young, but I lived vicariously through the stories that I heard from family and friends. They’re the ones who taught me how to play fundamental basketball.”

McCarty, for his part, gets his start in basketball-crazed Indiana.

“Evansville was a great place to grow up,” he says. “I shot ball occasionally, but I didn’t play organized basketball until I was in the fifth grade. Most of my friends and classmates were either coached by their parents or playing in some kind of league. I was just another kid shooting hoops in the neighborhood, which was what you did if you grew up in Indiana. It was during my freshman year at Harrison High School that I realized I could become a good basketball player if I put in the work. That motivated me. Before you know it, I was headed to Kentucky.”

Delk is the first of the three to land on the Wildcats’ roster. The long-armed shooting guard has plenty of options, most guaranteeing playing time right away, but the allure of playing at UK wins out.

“The recruiting process started for me when I began playing AAU basketball,” Delk says. “Coming from a small town, it was my opportunity to show the world that this country boy could play with the city guys. I came out of nowhere—I was this long-armed kid who could jump out of the gym and score the ball. We finished third in the nation when I was 15, and a year later, I was voted the most outstanding player in the whole AAU tournament. That put me on the map as far as being one of the top recruits in the country. All of the teams in the South started recruiting me—Arkansas, Kentucky, Georgia Tech, Tennessee, Memphis State. I signed a letter of intent to play at Kentucky, even though I knew that it was going to be tough. The Wildcats had guys like Jamal Mashburn and Travis Ford. They’d barely lost out on a Final Four berth against Duke, so I knew that this Kentucky team was pretty good.”

It’s Mashburn, not Pitino, who proves to be the lure for Walker.

“I was one of the top five players in the country during my junior and senior years in high school, but to be honest, Kentucky really didn’t have to pursue me,” Walker says. “I was a huge Jamal Mashburn fan, and I loved their style of play. I loved the pressing and the three-point shooting. Even though I went through the recruiting process and looked at a bunch of other schools, Kentucky was always my first and only choice. Mashburn was leaving to go pro, and I was able to step right in and get his number.”

For McCarty, Lexington is all about fit.

“Indiana University recruited me hard, and I was friends with Calbert Cheaney, but I really had no interest in going there,” McCarty says. “It boiled down to the style of ball they played, which was that classic Big 10 style with the big men confined to the post. I was just as comfortable being out on the perimeter. Pitino’s up-tempo system really fit me. I also got close with guys like Tony Delk and Jared Prickett by playing AAU ball, and that was a big factor in my decision.”

While Delk turns in a choppy freshman season, his potential is hard to ignore. The Wildcats finish the season 30–4, losing to Michigan’s Fab Five in the Final Four. By his senior season, Delk is the team’s go-to scorer.

“As a freshman, I didn’t play that much,” Delk says. “Dale Brown played my position. He was a ju co All-American, and he’d started as a junior, so I knew I couldn’t beat him out of his position. After three or four games, I was ready to transfer. I remember calling home to my mom and saying, ‘I don’t like it here. I’m not playing. Maybe I should look somewhere else.’ It was very disheartening to watch my peers play, knowing how hard I’d worked. Billy Donovan was an assistant coach at the time and started working out with me. We would lift in the mornings and then we’d play at night. He kept me in shape, and he kept me engaged, and he told me that my time would come if I just stayed ready.

“Dale Brown hurt his shoulder playing against Michigan in the Final Four,” Delk continues. “Coach Pitino put me in the game. We ended up losing in overtime, but I played well against the Fab Five. The next year I led the team in scoring. The whole experience taught me to work hard and not buy into your own hype, because there’s always someone out there working to take your job. Conversely, I learned that I wouldn’t be given the job. I had to go out and earn it.”

The 6-foot-10 McCarty is as comfortable shooting threes as he is finishing at the rim, something that’s commonplace today but rare when he plays. It’s his made three-pointer that completes Kentucky’s 31-point comeback over LSU in ’94—the biggest second-half rally in NCAA history.

“Coach Pitino trusted me to shoot from distance,” he says. “He knew I could knock those down, so he never tried to take away that aspect of my game.”

A fan favorite, the hometown fans routinely shower McCarty with love.

“UK fans are the greatest fans in the world,” he says. “It’s a high-pressure situation—Kentucky has a great tradition, and the expectation is to reach the Final Four and compete for a national championship. The support there is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Other schools may say the same thing, but Kentucky fans are insane about their team. It was a privilege to play there, and those were some of the best years of my life.”

Walker arrives on the scene in ’94, when Delk and McCarty are juniors. The three become fast friends.

“Tony and Walt were great teammates and guys that I looked up to when I came to school,” Walker says. “They were two years ahead of me, so they were the elder statesmen on the team. They welcomed me with open arms and really embraced me. I became very close to Tony and Walt. They would come back to Chicago with me during the summer and hang out with my family. They are special guys, and to this day, we’re all still very good friends. We’ve always had each other’s back.”

Kentucky dominates the college basketball world during the 1995–96 season, as Pitino’s Untouchables string together 25 consecutive wins, including a 16–0 mark in Southeastern Conference play, rolling to the school’s sixth national championship. Delk, Walker, and McCarty lead the team in scoring. The 76–67 win over Syracuse in the title game isn’t as close as the final score indicates, and it caps a magical run for the talented trio. It also creates memories to last a lifetime.

“The journey to the championship was incredible,” McCarty says. “We knew we were talented and had the potential to be great, but what we had went much farther than just talent. We were such a close team. We really enjoyed each other’s company and hanging out with each other away from the basketball court. We truly cared for each other, and those relationships stand to this day. And we worked hard—losing left a bad taste in our mouths, and we were determined to finish that season as the last team standing.

“There’s always going to be bumps along the way, it doesn’t matter what team you play for, and it’s more about how you react to that adversity—how you handle it—that determines your outcome. It’s the same thing when I went to the Celtics. There were times when I played a lot of minutes, and there were times when someone else was out there on the court. If I found myself not playing, I wanted to figure out what I needed to do to get those minutes back and to get back on the court. You just have to be excited about the opportunity to get back on your feet and make the most of every situation.”

Walker: “People were excited because we came into the season ranked Number One in the country. We lost our second game and then ended up winning 27 straight. It was a magical run. Obviously, I’m biased, but I believe that we were the best college team ever assembled. I’m sure that a lot of people would beg to differ. It was a very humble and very close-knit group. It was probably the most exciting season that I’ve ever had playing sports and just being a part of that team and the most fun. We dominated everybody, and then we went into the tournament and were able to bring a national championship home to Kentucky.”

For all three players, that championship season is as much about the fun away from the court as it is about cutting down the net.

“Tupac and Biggie were the artists on the rise back then,” Delk says. “Those guys were at the top of their games. When we won the championship, Tupac’s double CD, All Eyez on Me, was blowing up across the country. I can’t even tell you how many times I played that CD. He was a musical genius, just like Biggie. Friday also came out that year. Walter McCarty and I watched that movie over and over again.”

Walker: “Roderick Rhodes was our teammate at Kentucky, and he’s the guy who introduced me to the music of my man Biggie Smalls—the Notorious B.I.G. Prior to that I listened to people like MC Hammer, Rob Base, and then Dr. Dre, Ice Cube, and those type of rappers coming in. But as soon as I got to Kentucky, I started listening to Biggie. I remember when Tupac died, it was September 1996. I was at home in Chicago, getting ready for my first training camp.”

“I was an N.W.A fan as a kid,” Delk continues. “I remember when Ice Cube left the group and came out with his first CD, AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted, which I had on cassette tape. I’ll never forget being at a team camp in high school, and our coach walked in when we were playing it. He heard the profanity, made this face…and then he took my tape [laughs]! It was a big deal to me at the time, because back then you had to go out and buy your music, and cassette tapes were like $14 or $15. I had to save up for it . . . but I never got it back [laughs].

“Music was a huge part of my life back then. I listened to old school R&B legends like Marvin Gaye and the Temptations. Michael Jackson was a favorite. I grew up during the Ice Cube era, so I also listened to Public Enemy, Run DMC, Fat Boys, Houdini, Eric B, Rakim, the list goes on and on. Those artists were from my generation and brought in a completely different style of hip-hop and rap. It addressed topics like police brutality, which is still a major concern in the black community today.”

McCarty: “I’m all over the place musically, but R&B and Motown were big for me. Growing up I used to listen to Stevie Wonder. I was a huge fan of the Jackson 5. In high school, I started listening to Boyz II Men, Babyface, and Brian McKnight. In college, it was hard to ignore what guys like Tupac and Biggie were doing with their rap.”

Delk: “My favorite Tupac song ever is “Hit ‘Em Up”. Tupac fired off at anybody that had something negative to say, and you’d better not say anything negative about him because he would come back hard. He put some lyrics together, and “Hit ‘Em Up” is a prime example. Tupac could spit fire. You could feel the venom that was coming out of his mouth whenever he was rapping. There was an intensity to his rap that very few could match.

“When I played the game, my intensity level went off the charts. Off the court, I like to have fun and joke around, but on the court, I wanted to rip your heart out. A lot of that fire came from sitting the bench at Kentucky, watching my peers play and knowing that I should be on the court. I took it personally, and I was pissed off. I’d take the court pissed off at the person guarding me, even if they didn’t know it. I wanted to annihilate them. That has to be your mentality. I tell kids today, you have to have a soft voice and a killer instinct. All of the great ones have that.”

Walker lands in Boston via the ’96 NBA Draft. He’s the sixth overall selection. Ten picks later, Delk goes to Charlotte. New York snags McCarty with the 19th selection.

“The draft was very special,” Walker says. “I got the opportunity to fulfill my dream. To be among the best in your chosen profession is the ultimate feat, so it was very special for me and my family. I came from a very humble beginning, and being drafted gave us an opportunity to escape poverty. After so many years watching my mom struggle taking care of six of us, to be able to take care of her and do things for her was very special for me.”

McCarty: “To be able to do things for your family that you never thought you’d be able to do, that’s just the greatest feeling in the world. I’d always dreamed of buying my parents a new house and giving them a new car, but you don’t think you’ll ever be in that position. And then suddenly you’re able to help take some of that pressure off of them. I never took it for granted. I knew that I had to prove myself and that I had to go out there every day and show the coaches that I belonged in the NBA. I also knew that I had to earn my salary, and fortunately I had the work ethic to go out there and do the things to perform in this league.”

While Walker spins up his career in a Celtics uniform, McCarty plays 35 games during the 1996–97 regular season, averaging 5.5 minutes and 1.8 points. And then, on the cusp of his second season in a Knicks uniform, he finds himself traded to Boston.

“I was getting ready to play in the last preseason game, which was against the Celtics when I got a call in my room. It was Jeff Van Gundy telling me that I’ve been traded to Boston,” McCarty says. “It was the highlight of my NBA career, being traded to the Celtics, because Boston is the place that I call home. The fans are the best in the world. They know their basketball, and they appreciate blue-collar players who play hard and know their role. That was me. I tried to do my best to help the team win—if that meant diving for loose balls or running to my spot and shooting a three, I could tell that the fans appreciated what I brought to the court.”

It’s in Boston that McCarty carves out his niche, something the oft-traded Delk knows all too well.

“It’s about being in the right situation and being on the right team,” Delk says. “Walter had that in Boston. I bounced around a little more than he did. I had really good seasons with certain teams . . . I was finding my rhythm, loving the city, and enjoying my teammates . . . and then I would get traded and have to start all over again. That was the hardest thing for me.”

For a young Antoine Walker, Boston is the ideal situation. It’s also unique in that the Celtics, led by head coach M. L. Carr, are tanking games for a shot at Tim Duncan in the ’97 NBA Draft. Walker averages 36 minutes-per-game and lands on the All-Rookie Team.

“My rookie season was rough as far as wins and losses, but individually I thought I played great from start to finish. I was around a lot of great veterans, guys like Purvis Ellison, Dee Brown, Frank Brickowski, and Rick Fox. Playing for M. L. Carr was probably the best thing that could have ever happened to me. Not only did he help me as a basketball player, but he was also a father figure away from the court. He made sure that I did the right things, that I made the right decisions. He helped me with the whole process of transitioning to the NBA because I came into the league at 19 years old and didn’t know anything. He really helped me to stay balanced and understand what it takes to be a pro.”

Despite two lottery picks, the Celtics whiff in the Duncan Sweepstakes. Carr is ousted, and ownership signs Rick Pitino to the richest coaching contract in sports, a 10-year, 70 million dollar contract giving complete control over basketball operations. The deal opens the door for a UK pipeline into Boston, as Pitino brings Jim O’Brien and Frank Vogel with him, but the honeymoon ends quickly.

“Coach Pitino wasn’t patient,” Walker says. “He’d sign guys and trade them right away. He didn’t give guys like that time to develop. We drafted Chauncey Billups and traded him after half a season. Coach also wanted guys who could play his style, but that style didn’t translate to the pro game. You can’t press for 48 minutes in the NBA. The season’s too long.”

McCarty: “I don’t think he or anyone else really knew whether it would work or not. We were still trying to find ourselves as basketball players, so it wasn’t something we could plug into the NBA and guarantee success. But Coach P. believed in it. He needed guys who knew his system if he was going to pull it off, and what better group of guys than Antoine Walker, Ron Mercer, and myself? We’d played for him in college, but it was hard to find twelve guys who would buy into his system at the pro level. Mentally, it wore on him. I think that’s why he quit.”

When Pitino walks away, O’Brien is elevated to head coach. Delk arrives in Boston via trade late in the 2001–02 regular season, plays 22 games, and immediately makes an impact.

“Once I got to Boston it felt familiar,” Delk says. “Walter, Antoine, and Coach O’Brien were all there. Those guys knew me, and they knew my game. Coach O’Brien allowed me to play to my strengths. He knew that I wasn’t a traditional point guard, so he would have guys like Antoine help handle the ball. My role was to play tough defense and put the ball in the hole.”

The overachieving Celtics reach the 2002 Eastern Conference Finals, storming back with a 41-point fourth quarter to take Game 3—and a 2–1 series lead—against the heavily-favored New Jersey Nets.

“That was the highlight of my Celtics career,” Walker says. “We were down 23 points and ended up winning the game. It was probably my finest moment in a Boston Celtics uniform. Being able to win that game, and going up 2–1 in that series, and believing that we could actually get this team to the Finals . . . that was an incredible game and an incredible moment in my career. Whenever I’m in Boston, people still bring it up.”

McCarty: “We trusted each other and played great help defense. If someone got past me, I knew that Eric Williams was going to be there. If someone got by Eric, we knew that Tony Battie was going to be waiting. It was a great experience for us, but also disappointing because we came within two games of reaching the NBA Finals.”

The Celtics take a step back the next season, finishing the season 44–38 before being swept away by the Nets in the Eastern Conference Semifinals. A new ownership group arrives, and Danny Ainge is hired to oversee an on-the-fly rebuild.

“My second season with the Celtics was a lot better,” Delk says. “I suffered a bad ankle injury partway through the season, but I finished strong in the playoffs. Danny Ainge was hired and had a different vision. I wasn’t part of the plans. That’s life in the NBA. My time in Boston was amazing. Getting to play for one of the greatest franchises in history, it doesn’t get any better than that.”

Playing for the Boston Celtics means you’re part of an exclusive club that includes royalty like Bill Russell and Red Auerbach.

“Bill was around the organization a lot, especially early in my career,” Walker says. “We had a few private talks when he would just talk to me about the game, and that was very special. It’s a humbling experience to learn what he had to go through when racism was rampant in Boston when his house was vandalized and all of that. He’s an amazing man and a great friend. He paved the way for black athletes like myself to succeed in Boston.”

Delk: “Bill Russell has the best stories, and he is one of the funniest guys. That laugh is contagious. You might not know what he’s laughing about, but whatever it is, you’re laughing right along with him. He is one of the greatest men I have ever met. He’s a guy that’s helped pave the way for our culture, and what’s he’s done beyond the basketball court is remarkable. He is a true pioneer.”

McCarty: “Bill Russell stayed close to the team while I was there. And I always called him Captain. Never Bill, never Mr. Russell. Always Captain, because he was the captain of all those Celtics championship teams. Funny story about Bill Russell: At one point he came into the locker room, and at the time we were a pretty tough defensive team. But offensively, everybody knew that Paul Pierce and Antoine Walker were going to take most of the shots. And I guess the papers were talking a lot about how much Antoine liked to shoot the ball. It was a pretty big deal in the media at the time. Well, Bill came in, and he holds up a copy of that article, and he looks at everyone in the room but Antoine. And he tells us that the secret’s out, that Antoine is going to be taking a ton of shots, and that if we wanted to get our shots we shouldn’t wait for him to pass —we should wait for him to miss. And then he looks at Antoine, and he says, ‘From what I’ve seen out of your shot selection, there should be plenty of misses to go around.’ And then the whole room busts out laughing.”

Walker: “When I came in as a rookie, Red Auerbach was still very much an active part of the organization. He would come to practices here and there, and the occasional game. My fondest memories of Red are of him coming to practice and still having the authority to smoke a cigar in the building while we were practicing. It was a no smoking facility, like just about every place in America today, but no one said a word. Red would still fire up that cigar like the boss that he was, that’s what winning all of those championships does for you [laughs].

“Red was very good to me,” Walker continues. “I had the great opportunity to meet him when he was still very relevant. He understood the game, and he would always share advice with me. He would always watch the games, even though he was spending a lot of time in the DC area by that time, and he wouldn’t hesitate to tell me what I needed to work on. I have a couple of cool portraits that I’ve maintained through the years, photos of me with Red, and I’ll cherish them forever. He was a great, great, guy and a great person to be associated with. He was the biggest Boston Celtic of them all.”

McCarty: “Red was great to be around. No matter where you were, you could always smell those cigars in the gym.”

Delk: “I never met Red Auerbach, but I remember him coming to the practice facility, and I could smell his cigar. We all knew that he was in the building. I never got a chance to speak with him, but I appreciate what he did for black culture. He was one of the first to open up the door and bring in black players and provide them with opportunities that hadn’t existed before.”

Mention Walter McCarty to a Celtics fan, and it isn’t long before talk of “Tommy Points” and “I love Waltah” surfaces. Tommy Heinsohn has a special place in his heart for McCarty.

“I think Tommy appreciated what I brought to the table, maybe more than anyone. My role on that team wasn’t to be the leading scorer. It was to play great defense, shut down the other team’s best scorer, run the floor, knock down shots in the flow of the offense, and hustle all over the court. I was the guy who scrapped for the rebound, who would dive on the floor for loose balls—you know, the type of player who did a lot of the dirty work that maybe other players didn’t like to do.

“He kept a tally of ‘Tommy Points’ for guys who did things that didn’t show up in the stat sheet, and that was really borne out of him watching me play. He knew that everybody focused on the guy scoring 35 points or the guy grabbing 20 rebounds, but he changed the way that people look at basketball by pointing out the little things that make a big difference in wins and losses.”

For McCarty, his relationship with Heinsohn and the Celtics family runs deep.

“I’ve been so lucky, privileged, and blessed. To get to know people like Bob Cousy, Bill Russell, and Tom Heinsohn, I could never truly put into words what these people mean to me.

“It was so special to feel like you’re a part of the family, part of one of the greatest organizations in sports. You just don’t get that anywhere else. For me as a kid, to think that I would get to sit down and talk to guys like that—guys like Red Auerbach, Satch Sanders, Hondo—the list goes on and on, it was just remarkable. As a kid growing up in Evansville, I never could have imagined any of that to be possible.”

Walter McCarty isn’t afraid to put himself out there. After retiring from basketball, he moves into the music game. Truth is, music has always been a part of his DNA.

“When I was four or five, I was singing with my family in the church,” McCarty says. “My aunt got me started—I’d sing in the afternoon services. So I grew up singing, and from a very early age, it was always a passion of mine. And as I got older, I started singing in middle school choir, then high school and church choir, and on the street corners with my friends.

“In 2003, I released my first CD, Moment for Love, but I really didn’t have the time I needed to promote it due to playing basketball. In 2011, I released my second CD, Emotionally, and a year later released Unbreakable. My friends give me a hard time because I’m always singing, but I love it. It’s the thing I like to do most—that’s just me, I love music, and I really enjoy being able to express myself musically.

Go back a few years, and the old Antoine Walker has trouble saying no. He spends lavishly on friends and family, invests heavily in a shady real estate venture that goes belly up, places million dollar bets at the casino, and blows every dime of the $108 million he’s earned in the NBA. It’s a hard, painful lesson, but one from which he emerges stronger. This Antoine Walker, who, at the height of his career, never wears the same suit twice, is gone. In its place is a fiscally responsible Antoine Walker, now evangelizes financial literacy to up-and-coming athletes.

“Coming into the league at 19, there was no way that I thought I’d be broke at 39. I was soon making so much money that I thought it would never end . . . The type of money that today’s NBA players make is generational wealth; if you’re smart, you’re able to pass it down. I try to share my story and hope it makes a difference in someone’s life. Money is like everything else. It doesn’t last forever.”

Their playing careers over, Walker, McCarty, and Delk have nothing but fond memories of their time together. They have that ’96 national championship and everything that goes along with it. And even though they don’t win it all together in Boston, there are no regrets.

“The highlight of my career was to be drafted by an organization like the Boston Celtics,” says Walker. “When you look at a team with some of the all-time greats, we’re talking about Larry Bird, Kevin McHale, Robert Parish, Dennis Johnson, K. C. Jones, Red Auerbach, Bill Russell, just to name a few. To be drafted by the Celtics and to have my name attached to that organization is the greatest thing that could ever happen to me professionally.”

“Boston’s a pretty special place,” Tony Delk says. “To be able to play there with these guys, it just doesn’t get much better than that. We competed hard. We were able to play with an all-time great in Paul Pierce. We got to play under all of those championship banners and in front of the best fans in the world. I enjoyed my time in Boston.”

“Everyone likes to point out that I didn’t win an NBA title, but I’ve always loved the game of basketball,” says Walter McCarty. “I would have loved to have won an NBA championship, but I had a great time, and I’m content to have walked away from the game like I did without winning it. I was fortunate to win a championship at Kentucky, and I was able to play 10 years in the NBA, many of those with the greatest franchise in professional basketball. And if I were to ever wonder why I didn’t win it all as a professional, I would lean on the words in Proverbs 3:5–6: ‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.’”

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The Dee Brown Interview

Written By:  Michael D. McClellan | It’s the same everywhere he goes. Not a day passes that Dee Brown isn’t asked about The Dunk, a spontaneous act of showmanship that makes him famous, draws Michael Jordan’s ire, and brings urban sneaker culture one step closer to the mainstream. Mistaken for Shawn Kemp’s little brother during the 1991 NBA Slam Dunk Contest, Brown, an unknown rookie out of Jacksonville, becomes a household name when he takes down Seattle’s “Reign Man” with a jam so original that it ushers in the contest’s prop era, replete with dunkers soaring over cars, teammates, and mascots. Sure, Brown only uses his arm, but when you close your eyes and dab in midair . . .

Pump the brakes: Dab? In midair?

The dunk contest, which begins in 1984, is still something of a novelty when Brown signs on as a late add. He’s 6-foot-1, rail-thin, practically a runt standing next to the muscular, 6-foot-10 Kemp. There are others in the contest—leapers like Blue Edwards, Kenny Smith, Kendall Gill, Otis Smith, Rex Chapman, and Kenny Williams—but the SuperSonics’ precocious man-child is the odds-on favorite. Kemp can leap like Nique and destroy the rim like Chocolate Thunder. Brown? He barely fills out his uniform.
Julius Erving is one of the judges on this night. A student of the game, Brown has Erving’s dossier memorized. He knows all about Rucker Park, the Virginia Squires, and the New Jersey Nets. He knows about that sick reverse layup against the Lakers in the 1980 NBA Finals, a scoop shot for the ages. He also understands that while Doc isn’t the first player to levitate, he’s the first to transform dunking into an art form. Erving is Jackson Pollock, the ball his brush, the court his canvas.

“A lot of guys can dunk. Very few leave their mark,” Brown says.

On this night all those years ago, Dee Brown decides to leave his mark.

Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Dee Brown’s story is bigger than the night he delivers that jam for the ages. The dunk makes him a star, but there’s more to the Dee Brown mosaic than a singular night in Charlotte midway through his rookie season. That doesn’t keep the haters from dissing Brown’s 12-year career—he doesn’t win a championship, his basketball résumé never fulfills the glitz promised by that dunk contest—but the critics who throw shade fail to grasp the NBA landscape onto which he lands. Everything starts to unravel in Boston when Auerbach’s maneuvering for Len Bias backfires and compounds a year later when the Celtics select Northeastern’s Reggie Lewis, two future cornerstones wiped out in tragic fashion. The C’s still have stars on the roster when Brown arrives via the nineteenth pick in the 1990 NBA Draft, but age and injury limit the effectiveness of all-time players Bird, McHale, and Parish. Brown can’t possibly fill their shoes.

“People forget what it was like back then,” Brown says. “Those teams in the ’90s struggled to recover from the deaths of Len Bias and Reggie Lewis. The Big Three were breaking down. The team was in decline.”

Welcome to the post-apocalyptic world that is Boston Celtics basketball through much of the ’90s—dark days fueled by tragedy, exacerbated by miserable ownership, and prolonged by a string of forgettable draft busts. Drop Dee Brown into a different era—when the Big Three were going gangbusters—and the Celtics might have another banner hanging from the rafters. That’s not meant to diminish Brown’s legacy in Boston. He epitomizes Celtic Pride during his time with the team, joining a list of uber-legends as team captain. He plays alongside the Big Three, and he’s on the floor during the last game in the Boston Garden. He represents the organization with class while bridging the chasm between Bird and Pierce. Get to know Brown for more than a dunk contest, and it’s easy to see why his light shines brightest during the team’s darkest days.

Jacksonville is hardly a basketball hotbed, but Jax is where this NBA-bound story starts. Brown grows up there auspiciously, which is to say that his isn’t a discourse on hood life.

“I was the oldest of three kids,” Brown begins. “My parents were young when they had me—my mom was 16 and my dad was 17—and they’re still together today. We weren’t from the ghetto, we weren’t hood. Both of my parents worked. I always had a roof over my head, and there was plenty of food to eat, so it wasn’t that story.”

The Browns are a sports family. His dad is a basketball junkie, a rec league baller with instincts he passes down to his son. Dee’s uncles aren’t much older than he is, so it’s like having a pack of big brothers around. They’re always at the park, where Dee learns to pitch, pass, and shoot. Soon he’s playing organized sports year-round.

“Being from Florida, I played whatever sport was in season. I was really good at baseball and football, but basketball was something that I loved.”

Brown doesn’t hone his game on a Jacksonville equivalent to Rucker Park, and those looking to perpetuate the gangsta stereotype are sorely disappointed. He attends the Bolles School, a private college preparatory school with an international reputation for both academic and athletic excellence. More than 50 Olympic swimmers graduate from Bolles. Chipper Jones, the ’99 Major League Baseball MVP, is a freshman when Brown is a senior. Jackie Crosby and Kevin Sack, both Pulitzer Prize winners in journalism, are Bolles alums. Brown is the only African American in his graduating class.

“I got the chance to be around a lot of affluent people that weren’t my color,” he says. “It helped me to see things in a completely different light.”

For Brown, basketball isn’t his only passion.

“Break dancing was big during the ’80s, and I was a breaker,” Brown confesses with a laugh. “I had a cardboard box in my garage, and I had that big boom box with dual cassette decks. I remember taking it to the park and blasting the music as loud as we could, and those batteries would be dead within an hour.

“Back then, hip-hop was just starting. My high school years were 1983 through 1986. I was listening to the Sugar Hill Gang, Kurtis Blow, and LL Cool J. For me, that whole period was really about the New York rappers because there really weren’t any Florida rappers or hip-hop artists. Heavy D & The Boyz had that album Big Tyme. I wore it out.
“We had a group, and we would go to these dance competitions at the local skating rink. We would play basketball all day and break dance at night. I’d listen to the New York rappers and various deejays like DJ Kid Capri. From there I started listening to acts like Public Enemy, Eric B. and Rakim, and Heavy D. Today they are considered old school, but to true fans like me, they are better known as the Godfathers of Rap.”

What the Bolles Experience doesn’t do is give Brown street cred with college recruiters.

“Not a single Division I college was interested in me,” Brown says. “Zero. I was 30th in my graduating class, I had a 3.7 GPA, and I scored 1200 on the SAT, so it wasn’t an academic thing. Florida is a football state, and there weren’t a lot of big-time basketball players coming out of Jacksonville. Bolles was a small, private school with an AA classification, and it was basically all-white, so even though I was one of the best players in the state, I wasn’t on anyone’s radar when Florida basketball prospects were discussed. I only had one scholarship offer coming out of high school. That was an NAIA school, Presbyterian College, in North Carolina.”

Brown decides on a local junior college instead. His plan is simple: Prove that he can play and hope that a D-I school offers him a scholarship. All of that changes late in the summer of ’86.

“Florida holds an annual Olympic-style festival called the Sunshine State Games,” Brown explains. “Other states do something similar—in New York, it’s called the Empire State Games. There are all kinds of events: track and field, swimming, boxing, basketball, and so forth. I went to Lakeland with my high school team and competed against all the top players, including Florida’s Mr. Basketball. I averaged 37 points-per-game and broke the scoring record.

“The Thursday before the tournament, I had one offer from an NAIA school. The following Monday, I had 15 Division I scholarship offers. Every major college in the South wanted me because I was still eligible to sign. School was starting in one week, so I had to make a snap decision. Since I was already mentally prepared to stay home and go to school, I signed with Jacksonville University.”

The Dolphins are D-I but barely a blip on the national hoops scene. The school’s most famous baller is Artis Gilmore, a Consensus First-Team All-American in 1971 and a Hall of Famer. Otis Smith (the same Otis Smith in that 1990 dunk contest) is a senior when Brown is a freshman. From 1987–90, Brown carves out his own legacy. He scores 1,503 points, sets the school’s single-season steals record, and leaves with zero regrets.

“Jacksonville was right for me,” he says. “It was a small school in the Sun Belt Conference, which had competitive programs like Virginia Commonwealth, South Alabama, and UNC Charlotte. And our non-conference schedule was tough—we played schools like Virginia and North Carolina, so I had experience going against some of the best competition in the country.”

Brown proves that he can ball with the best, but, in the pre-Internet world in which he lives, word is slow to spread. With the 1990 NBA Draft looming, Brown’s draft status is anything but a slam dunk.

“The draft was reduced to two rounds the year before I came out,” Brown says. “I had a great senior season, but I wasn’t an All-American so there was no guarantee that I’d get drafted. It was just like high school all over again—the Sun Belt Conference was inferior to the ACC, I hadn’t proved myself consistently against blue-chip schools, the NBA was too physical for me, and on and on.”

Determined to change minds, Dee Brown hits the road.

“There were all of these different camps during the summer,” he says. “My first camp was the Orlando Invitational. All of the top players played, except for guys like Derrick Coleman, Gary Payton, Dennis Scott, and Chris Jackson, who were already locked into the top five spots. I made the all-tournament team and showed what I could do against guys like Bimbo Coles and Travis Mays. That’s when I started moving up in the draft. I went from maybe being selected in the second round, to being a solid second round pick, or maybe even being picked early in the second round.

“The next camp was in Chicago. I played well there and impressed teams during the interview process, and all of a sudden there was talk about me being a high first-round pick. Those camps helped teams see me in a different light.”

The rest of the summer is a blur. Brown, no longer a fringe player, now has multiple suitors wanting closer looks.

“I visited three teams ahead of the draft,” Brown says. “I went to Detroit—they were still champions at that time—and I also visited Houston and Boston. Back then, there weren’t any rules. You could stay with a team for days on end. I went to Houston for a week and played pick-up ball with the veterans. That was how the coaching staff ran their pre-draft workout—no drills, no analytics, no scientific evaluation. Just go play. If the players like you, we like you. It was the same thing in Detroit. Boston was different. When I visited the Celtics, I had a very short workout. I figured they weren’t impressed with me.”

More memorable for Brown is what happens off the court.

“I had an interview with Red, in his office on Causeway Street. I was a basketball history buff anyway, so walking into his office was better than walking into the Hall of Fame. There was so much history on the walls, on his desk, everywhere you looked. I sat there, awestruck, unable to believe that I was having a face-to-face conversation with Red Auerbach. It was surreal. Me being a 20-year-old kid from Jacksonville, who’d never left home before, and suddenly I’m in Boston and talking to the man who’d started it all. I knew the history of the team; I’d watched so many Celtics games on CBS when Tommy Heinsohn was broadcasting. I’d been glued to the TV during all of those ’80s battles between the Lakers and the Celtics. To be in Red’s office was a life-changing experience. Even if I didn’t get drafted by Boston, I knew that I’d talked to one of the greatest basketball minds of all time.”

Brown’s dream comes true on June 27, 1990, when the Celtics select the athletic combo guard with the 19th pick in the first round.

“The best thing about being drafted by the Celtics is that Red Auerbach made the pick. People talk about the dunk contest, but the draft was the best moment of my life. Just to think about all of the other players he’s selected in the past—Russell, Havlicek, Cowens, Bird . . . for me to be put in that company is unbelievable. You couldn’t ask for a better feeling.”

Dee Brown plays nearly eight seasons in a Celtics uniform. The best days come early. The team sprints out to a 29–5 record to start the 1990–91 regular season, finishes 56–26, and falls to the hated Pistons in the Eastern Conference Semifinals. He lands on the ’91 NBA All-Rookie First Team.

“The Big Three were older when I got drafted, and the Celtics had started transitioning from a frontcourt-oriented team to a team that featured the backcourt,” Brown says. “The offense featured younger, faster players like Brian Shaw, Reggie Lewis, Kevin Gamble, and myself. For the first time in a long time—or maybe ever—the Celtics were throwing down alley-oop dunks, running backdoor cuts, dunking on people, and doing windmill dunks during the game. The fans didn’t know what to think. They called us the ‘Zip Boys.’ Tommie Heinsohn gave us that nickname.”

Despite the injection of youth, the Boston Celtics are slowly crumbling when Dee Brown arrives, the fissures almost imperceptible at first.

“When I got there, Larry, Kevin, and Chief were still playing at a high level. This was before Larry got hurt, before Kevin got hurt again, and before Reggie passed. So even though we lost Lenny, we had an opportunity to be a great team. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be.

“My first eight years in the league, there were only two NBA champions: Chicago and Houston. That was it. Like most players of that era, I came around at the wrong time because my career coincided with Jordan’s prime. But then again, Patrick Ewing, Karl Malone, Charles Barkley, and so many other great players could say the same thing. They just came around when the greatest player who ever lived happened to be playing basketball.”

Brown’s early years in Boston are spent balling in the game’s most storied venue.

“People talk about Chicago Stadium and Madison Square Garden, but the old Boston Garden was great,” Brown says, smiling. “It was all about one thing: Basketball without distractions. There were no cheerleaders. No dancers. You had the organ. You had the dead spots. You had the obstructed view seats. You had the conspiracy theories of Red turning off the hot water to the showers or turning off the air conditioning during the playoffs. It was pure basketball, played in front of the best fans in the world.”

A young Dee Brown loves talking shop with the Celtics’ aging patriarch. Auerbach takes an instant liking to the acrobatic dunker with the old school vibe and pogo sticks for legs. The memories made are priceless.

“We were playing a home game, and I’m sitting in the locker room when Red walks in,” Brown says. “I think it was the year that Reggie Lewis had passed away, and I was playing close to 38 minutes a game. By this point in the season, I’m exhausted because I’m playing both guard positions. One game I’m guarding Mitch Richmond, the next game it’s Michael Jordan, and the next it’s Tim Hardaway. I’m guarding these guys, and I’m giving up 20 to 30 pounds. They’re bigger and stronger.

“So I’m sitting in the locker room and Red walks in. I never called him ‘Red.’ I always called him ‘Arnold.’ He loved it. I said, ‘Arnold, I’m exhausted, sore, and beat up.’ He looks at me and says, ‘Dee, let me tell you something. One year Bill Russell averaged 47 minutes per game for an entire season. And guess what? He owes me a minute. So you’d better never complain about playing all of these minutes because he played 47 and he owes me a minute, and until I get it from him, I’m going to keep chasing him.’”

Brown laughs at the retelling.

“I never complained about minutes again,” Brown says. “For him to be pissed off because Bill Russell didn’t play 48 minutes a game, the greatest Celtic of them all, who am I to complain [laughs]? Besides, playing 38 minutes a night was a lot better than sitting the bench. I loved Red. He always came into the locker room with a story.”

Away from the court, Brown soaks up Boston’s nightlife. His musical tastes continue to grow and evolve, but he’s still hooked on hip-hop.

“It was the early ’90s, so Biggie had just hit big. I listened to Busta Rhymes and EPMD, so I still liked the New York rap scene. There were a couple of Florida groups coming out of that time, like 2 Live Crew. People were like, ‘You can’t listen to that in Boston.’ But I was from Florida, so I had to represent. 69 Boyz were from Jacksonville. So was 95 South. They had a hit with ‘Whoot, There It Is.’ Living in Boston, I also go to see plenty of concerts. I was a Janet Jackson fan, a Faith Evans fan, a Stacy Lattisaw fan. Whitney Houston. I saw them all in Boston.”

If you’re a Boston Celtics fan during the ’90s, your allegiance to the team is sorely tested. Brown understands this perhaps better than anyone.

“A lot of people tend to dismiss that era of Celtics basketball,” Brown says. “They remember me winning the dunk contest, and then it jumps to Paul Pierce. The best years were early in the decade and were bookmarked by two tragedies that disrupted the future of the franchise. Len and Reggie weren’t lost due to injury. They weren’t traded away for other players. These were great talents who passed away tragically. You can’t plan for that.

“People forget that I joined the team just a few years after Lenny died, and I was part of the whole Reggie situation. I was there for eight years, and the Celtics were still trying to recover when I was traded to Toronto. We had some good players. Dominique Wilkins was there for a couple of years. Xavier McDaniel. Sherman Douglas. Dino Radja. Rick Fox was there before he went to Los Angeles. Chris Ford was one of the best coaches that I ever had.

“Nobody even talks about the ’90s, and nobody really brings up my career in Boston,” Brown continues. “That era has become a footnote in Celtics history. I consider myself lucky. I played in the last game in the old Boston Garden and the first game in the Fleet Center. I was the last person to play with the Big Three. I was the last of Red’s last picks to make significant contributions in a Celtics uniform. Those are the things I back on with pride.”

Brown understands that winning the ’91 NBA Slam Dunk Contest is a sexier headline and the thing people still remember most. But for him, being named Celtics captain is the ultimate honor.

“They don’t give that title out every day, nor do they give it away lightly. You have to earn it. I never thought in my wildest dreams that I’d be a Celtic captain. It helped being around Larry, Kevin, Robert, and DJ on a daily basis. Through them, you learn that Celtic Pride isn’t a catchphrase. It’s a way of life.”

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. Brown, who embraces his new role, quickly appreciates its burden.

“When I first became captain, I don’t think I fully grasped the magnitude,” Brown says. “It was great to be recognized as a leader, but I didn’t realize how difficult it was to be captain. It was a handful. And then, when you look at the list of captains that came before—Cousy, Russell, Havlicek, Cowens, Bird, Parish—you’re talking about some of the greatest players to pick up a basketball. That’s pressure. Just to be mentioned in the same breath with these guys is an honor. I didn’t have a career to match theirs, but I felt like I carried the same respect for what it means to be a Boston Celtic.”

As the team’s fortunes sag through the ’90s, Brown’s career stalls like a hurricane over the Florida coast. He battles a knee injury, watches legends retire, and endures a string of draft busts. There’s negativity at every turn.

“I was the biggest name on the roster at the time, but I was thrust into a situation that I really wasn’t prepared to handle. Reggie Lewis dies, and all of a sudden you go from being a complementary player to being the face of the franchise. There’s no way to prepare for that.”

The Dunk. It always comes back to The Dunk.

Funny thing is, Brown’s iconic sky dab almost never happens.

“I had a lot of dunks during my rookie year,” Brown says. “The All-Star Weekend was coming up, and Jon Jennings, a Celtics assistant coach at the time, was telling everybody that I needed to be included in the dunk contest. Thanks to his lobbying I was added as an alternate, and eventually slid into the lineup when one of the top guys pulled out.”

Shawn Kemp creates all of the buzz, while Brown arrives in Charlotte to little fanfare and even less recognition.

“It’s a few hours before the contest, and I’m sitting in the stands with Shawn Kemp and the rest of the guys,” he says. “We’re dressed in regular clothes, and I’m right beside Shawn, and this kid comes up and asks for his autograph. The kid points at me and says to Shawn, ‘Hey is that your little brother?’ I just looked at the kid and thought to myself, ‘You have no idea what I’m about to do in this contest.’”

Brown draws the seventh slot in the dunk order and wastes little time making an impression. Before his first dunk, he stands near midcourt, bends over and pumps the inflatable air bladders in his black Reebok Pump Omni Lite sneakers with both hands. The crowd, which includes an array of megastars like Will Smith, goes wild.

“I’d already signed a contract with Reebok, but pumping up my shoes before that first dunk wasn’t scripted,” he says. “I just said to myself, ‘This is for fun, you may never be in this situation again.’ I’d seen the contest on TV plenty of times, and I want to do something different. I want to get the crowd into it. Obviously, it worked.”

With that single act of showmanship, Brown accelerates the convergence between sneakers, hip-hop culture, and the American mainstream. An unknown wisp at 6-foot-2, 165 pounds just seconds before, the scrawny Boston rookie—Brown’s words—is suddenly the star of the NBA All-Star Weekend.

“People could relate to me,” he says. “I looked like an average guy, not a superhero in basketball shorts. There was an instant connection with the fans.”

Brown continues pumping before each subsequent dunk. After eliminating Kemp in the final round with a two-ball double-stuff that includes raking a ball placed on the back of the rim, followed by a 360 dunk off a bounce, Brown lines up for that final, iconic assault on the basket.

“I’d never done that dunk before,” Brown says. “I literally made it up on the spot. I wanted to do something that everybody would remember, like Michael Jordan taking off and dunking from the free-throw line, or Dominique Wilkins throwing down a vicious windmill dunk. I wanted people to remember Dee Brown doing something that nobody had ever done before. All those thoughts ran through my mind as I started running from half-court. When I jumped, I closed my eyes and put my head in my elbow. I knew that I was either going to make it, and everybody would be talking about me 25 years later, or I was going to miss it, and everybody was going to be talking about it 25 years later [laughs].”

Even without social media, Brown’s spontaneous improvisation brings instant fame.

“Larry Bird said, ‘Before that dunk, everybody wanted to shoot like me, and now everybody wants to dunk like Dee.’ It was the first time since he’d been in Boston that people would run past Larry Bird to get someone else’s autograph. He thought it was funny, and he didn’t mind at all.

“Outside of Boston, nobody knew who I was before that dunk,” Brown continues. “Having somebody from the Boston Celtics in a dunk contest was kind of like it snowing in San Diego. I literally became a household name overnight. After the contest, I couldn’t go anywhere in New England without being recognized by people who didn’t even follow the Celtics that closely. I was on TV all the time; I was doing Dunkin’ Donuts commercials, Reebok commercials, car commercials, radio spots. I was doing appearances in Vermont, Maine, New Hampshire, Rhode Island. For a while, I was New England.”

Brown’s run in Boston ends with the arrival of Rick Pitino. Hailed as a savior when he arrives, Pitino trades away players at a dizzying rate, to his own detriment. Brown is a casualty of the house cleaning when he, along with Chauncey Billups, is traded to Toronto midway through the 1997–98 regular season.

“I was a bridge between the great Celtics teams of the ’80s and Rick Pitino’s Celtics,” Brown says. “I never thought I would leave Boston. I never asked for a trade from Boston. A new regime comes in and they want their own people, their own players. Pitino didn’t want the old Celtics there. He wanted his people there. I got it. Basketball’s a business. But I was very, very hurt.”

They say you never know what you’ve got until it’s gone. It works both way for Dee Brown and the Boston Celtics fans he leaves behind, fans who watch Rick Pitino push the Celtics deeper into disrepair.

“My biggest regret is not enjoying it as much I should have. When you’re in the moment, sometimes you don’t appreciate where you are in life. Then when it’s over, you miss it. That was me. I wish I had enjoyed being an NBA basketball player and the captain of the Boston Celtics more than I did. Back then you were either in the NBA and had a job or you didn’t. There was no D-League to fall back on. I think that fear of losing my job took a lot of the fun and enjoyment away from it. I didn’t savor the good times as much as I should have. I wish I could change that.”

Today, Brown looks back on his career and the era of Celtics basketball in which he played with great fondness.

“My 12-year-old son searches for me on Google. He’ll watch old footage on YouTube, and he’ll say, ‘Dad, you were pretty good.’ It helps me appreciate my career. When you’re grinding, you lose track of the fact that you’re playing against some of the best athletes in the world. Look at the NBA’s 50 Greatest list, and 20 to 25 of those players played during my era. I played against them. In order to have a 12-year NBA career, you have to play at a very high level. I did that, and I got to spend most of those years playing for the Boston Celtics, the best organization in the NBA. I was twenty when I was drafted. The Celtics raised me. I have nothing but love for Boston. I’ll always be a Celtic.”

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The Tony Delk Interview

By: Michael D. McClellan  |  Tony Delk arrived in Boston as part of Rick Pitino’s UK pipeline, a member of the ’96 Kentucky championship team dubbed “The Untouchables” and still regarded as one of the greatest collegiate teams ever.  Antoine Walker was on that team.  Walter McCarty, too.  Ron Mercer.  Wayne Turner.  All eventually wore a Celtics uniform, either playing for Pitino himself, or later for the man who replaced him on the bench, former UK assistant coach Jim O’Brien.  Delk, brought in late in the 2001-02 regular season, arrived in time to help the Celtics end a six year playoff drought, the longest in team history.

“Tony helped fortify our backcourt situation heading into the playoffs,” O’Brien says.  “He could handle the ball, and he was a great shooter.  We knew he could help us.”

For the uninitiated, Delk’s hoops career got its start in Brownsville, Tennessee.  Nicknamed “Shooter” in high school, Delk transitioned from a noteworthy high school career to college prominence at UK, leading the Wildcats to that ’96 NCAA Championship over Syracuse.  Delk was named the Final Four Most Outstanding Player, and capped his college career by being named a consensus first-team All-American.

Selected by the Charlotte Hornets with the 16th overall pick in the 1996 NBA Draft, Delk embarked on an 11-year NBA career that included stints with Golden State, Sacramento, Phoenix, Dallas, Atlanta, and Detroit.  It was his abbreviated stay in Boston that endeared him to Celtics fans.  He was there for that emotional playoff return, which included wins over Philly and Detroit on the way to the 2002 Eastern Conference Finals.  Never-mind that the Celtics fell to the Nets is six games; Delk played a key part in that memorable Game 3 win, a 23-point fourth quarter comeback that not only breathed new life into an iconic franchise, but gave future Hall of Famer Paul Pierce a glimpse of things to come.

Delk finished his NBA career with averages of 9.1 PPG, 2.5 RPG and 1.9 APG, before signing a contract with the Greek basketball team, Panathinaikos, in Athens. He won the Greek Cup, the Greek Championship and the European Championship with Panathinaikos, and announced his retirement from professional basketball in November 2007. In 2008.

On February 14, 2015, the University of Kentucky bestowed its highest athletic honor on Delk, retiring his iconic “00” and raising his jersey to the Rupp Arena rafters.

“It’s a great honor, just to be amongst the great players here who have laced up, who have worn the Blue,” Delk says, recalling the event.  “I’ve played with a lot of great guys, and to go from my backyard in Brownsville, to the hardwood of Rupp Arena, who would have thought that?”

Please take be back to the beginning.

Covington was my birthplace and my hometown, but I made my name in Brownsville, Tennessee. I have brothers who are 15-to-20 years older than me, and they were my role models growing up.  They didn’t drink or smoke, and were really good influences.  I didn’t get to see them play because I was too young, but I lived vicariously through the stories that I heard from family and friends.  They’re the ones who taught me how to play fundamental basketball.  They weren’t easy on me.  It was tough love.

 

Did you follow the NBA growing up?

My brothers were Dr. J fans, so I initially became a Philadelphia 76ers fan.  When you live in Tennessee, you don’t get a chance to get all of the cable channels, but we got WGN out of Chicago.  So when Michael Jordan blew up I switched allegiances and became a Chicago Bulls fan.  They were always on TV, so it was great.

 

Let’s talk high school ball.  What memory jumps to mind?

Our freshman team won the championship, and then my coach, Rick Sullivan, put me on the varsity team.  It was a big deal because that didn’t happen very often.  He walked to the end of the bench during a game and asking me if I wanted to go in.  I was scared to death!  I remember telling him that I wasn’t ready – I might have gone in and scored a couple of points, who knows – but I promised him that that I’d be ready the next year.  I started as a sophomore, and by the time I ended my career I was Haywood High School’s all-time leading scorer.

 

What kind of music were you into?

Music was a huge part of my life back then.  I listened to old school R&B legends like Marvin Gaye and the Temptations.  Michael Jackson was a favorite.  I grew up during the Ice Cube era, so I also listened to N.W.A., Public Enemy, Run DMC, Fat Boys, Houdini, Eric B, Rakim, the list goes on and on.  Those artists were from my generation and brought in a completely different style of hip-hop and rap.  It addressed topics like police brutality, which is still a major concern in the black community today.

I recently saw Straight Outta Compton and I thought that movie was great!  It took me back to when I was a young kid and being an N.W.A. fan.  I remember when Ice Cube left the group and came out with his first CD, AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted which I had on cassette tape.  I’ll never forget being at a team camp, and our coach walked in when we were playing it.  He heard the profanity, made this face…and then he took my tape [laughs]!  It was a big deal to me at the time, because back then you had to go out and buy your music, and cassette tapes were like $14 or $15.  I had to save up for it…that cassette was an investment…but I never got it back [laughs].

 

Tell me about the recruiting process, and your decision to sign with Kentucky.

The recruiting process started for me when I began playing AAU basketball.  Coming from a small town, it was my opportunity to show the world that this country boy could play with the city guys.  I came out of nowhere – I was this long-armed who could jump out of the gym and score the ball.  We finished third in the nation when I was 15, and a year later I was voted the most outstanding player in the whole AAU tournament.  That really put me on the map as far as being one of the top recruits in the country.

All of the teams in the South started recruiting me –Arkansas, Kentucky, Georgia Tech, Tennessee, Memphis State.  I signed a letter of intent to play at Kentucky, even though I knew that it was going to be tough to earn minutes.  The Wildcats had guys like Jamal Mashburn and Travis Ford.  They’d barely lost out on a Final Four berth against Duke, so I knew that this Kentucky team was pretty good.

 

What was it like making the jump from high school to one of the biggest basketball programs in college basketball?

As a freshman, I didn’t play that much.  Dale Brown played my position.  He was a JUCO All-American, and he’d started as a junior, so he wasn’t going to let me beat him out for his position.  After three or four games I was ready to transfer.  I remember calling home to my mom and saying, ‘I’m not liking it here.  I’m not playing.  Maybe I should look somewhere else.’  It was very disheartening to watch my peers play, knowing that I’d put in all of this work.

 

You didn’t transfer.  How come?

Billy Donovan started working out with me.  We would get together and work out in the mornings, and then we’d play at night.  He kept me in shape, and he kept me engaged, and he told me that my time would come if I just stayed ready.  Dale Brown hurt his shoulder playing against Michigan in the Final Four, Coach Pitino put me in the game.  We ended up losing in overtime, but I played well against the Fab Five.  The next year I led the team in scoring.  The whole experience taught me to work hard and not buy into your own hype, because there’s always someone out there working to take your job.  Conversely, I learned that I wouldn’t be given the job.  I had to go out and earn it.

 

The 1996 Kentucky Wildcats rolled to the Final Four, defeating Syracuse for the National Championship.  How close were you as a team?

The things that I remember most and are most special are a lot of the off-the-court things that we did together as a team.  That’s one of the things that brought us so close together and made us the team that we were on the court.  We won 27 games in a row, and we won a championship.  A lot of that had to do with our closeness away from basketball.

 

Who were you listening to back then?

Tupac and Biggie were the ones on the rise.  Those guys were at the top of their game.  And when we won the championship, Tupac’s double CD, All Eyez on Me, was blowing up across the country.  I can’t even tell you how many times I played that CD.  He was a musical genius, just like Biggie.  My favorite Tupac song ever is Hit ‘Em Up.  Tupac fired off at anybody that had something negative to say, and you’d better not say anything negative about him because he would come back hard.  He put some lyrics together, and Hit ‘Em Up is a prime example.  Tupac could spit fire.  You could feel the venom that was coming out of his mouth whenever he was rapping.  There was an intensity to his rap that very few could match.

 

What were you watching?

The movie Friday came out that year.  Walter McCarty and I watched that movie over and over again – we knew the scenes, we knew the words, we knew the character’s expressions.  We really loved that movie.

 

How good is the competition at the NBA level?

Unbelievable.  You’re playing against the best players in the world every night, so it doesn’t matter the record of the team.  The talent is so good that you can’t take a night off.  You have to bring your A game every night.  You realize quickly that if you’re going to get paid – and keep getting paid – you have to perform your job and show them that you’re there for a reason.  For me it was always about always trying to prove a point, that I belonged.  Each and every year there is a draft.  Each and every year they’re bringing in the best players from college and around the world.  There’s also free agency.  That means that everybody is coming for your job.

 

Trades are a part of the business, and you’ve been involved in a few.  What’s it like to start off somewhere and then try to fit in somewhere else?

It’s about being in the right situation and being on the right team.  I had really good seasons with certain teams…I was finding my rhythm, loving the city, and enjoying my teammates…and then I would get traded and have to start all over again.  That was the hardest thing for me.

 

You’re something of a quiet guy.  What was your approach to playing the NBA game?

When I played the game, my intensity level went off the charts.  Off the court I like to have fun and joke around, but on the court I wanted to rip your heart out.  A lot of that fire came from sitting the bench at Kentucky, watching my peers play and knowing that I should be on the court.  I took it personal, and I was pissed off.  I’d take the court pissed off at the person guarding me, even if they didn’t know it.  I wanted to annihilate them.  That has to be your mentality. I tell kids today, you have to have a soft voice, but a killer instinct. And the players who are the greatest, some of those players have a killer instinct.

 

On January 2, 2001, you scored 53 points on 20-27 shooting from the field as a member of the Sacramento Kings.  What was it like to be in the zone?  

“That was my second game back in Sacramento after ending up in Phoenix.  It was one of those games were all of my shots came in rhythm.  It wasn’t like when you see a guy going for 50, 60 or 70 points, and his teammates are feeding him the ball.  My teammates weren’t feeding me.  I was getting my shots, but so was Rodney Rogers, Cliff Robinson, Shawn Marion, and Jason Kidd.  It was all in the flow.  I made nine or 10 consecutive shots, and I remember somebody saying, ‘Dude, you’ve got 45 points.’  I was in a zone, which I had to be to score that much volume, because I wasn’t the kind of player who commanded 20-to-25 touches a game.  Role players don’t get that many touches, and I certainly wasn’t a star like Allen Iverson.  On that night the opportunity came, and I made the most of it.”

 

The Kentucky pipeline was alive and well in Boston.  Did that help you adjust to life in a Celtics uniform?

Once I got to Boston it felt familiar.  Walter McCarty, Antoine Walker, and Coach O’Brien were all there.  Those guys knew me, and they knew my game.  Coach O’Brien allowed me to play to my strengths.  He knew that I wasn’t a traditional point guard – my gift was scoring – so he would have guys like Antoine help handle the ball.  I knew my role, which was to take intelligent shots and put the ball in the hole.  I knew I wasn’t going to be a start in college, and I had to be able to accept and embrace my role, and that’s what I did with the Boston Celtics.

 

You were part of that epic 2002 playoff comeback against the Nets.  What do you remember most?

It reminded me of how loud it was in Sacramento when I played for the Kings.  They were the only show in town, and I can’t begin to tell you how loud ARCO Arena was with the screaming fans and those bells horns.  That’s what the fan base was like when the Celtics were winning, and the fans went nuts in that Game 3 comeback.  We dug ourselves a big hole, but we were able to lock down on defense and then the shots started falling on the other end.  Boston fans had only known winning as far back as Bill Russell, so the six-year playoff drought had created a lot of pent up emotion.  We got the momentum and the fans fed off of that, and we fed off of them.

 

The Celtics brought you back the next season.

My second season with the Celtics was a lot better.  I suffered a bad ankle injury partway through the season, but I finished strong in the playoffs.  We won that first round playoff series against Indiana, before going on to have a tough series against New Jersey.  We were happy to make the playoffs, but losing to the Nets again was a bitter pill to swallow.

 

There were some of us who thought you were going to be in a Celtics uniform for several more years.

I felt I was really coming into my own, but that’s when Danny Ainge was hired.  He wanted to make some changes and put his touch on the team, so he started to dismantle some of the core players that had reached the Eastern Conference Finals the year before.  You’ve got to understand that when a new GM comes in, he has a different vision, so it was time to move on.  But my years in Boston were amazing.  Getting to play for one of the greatest franchises in history, you know, it doesn’t get any better than that.

 

Tell me about Paul Pierce.

When I think of a guy like Paul Pierce, I think of his love for the game and how hard he played.  Paul competed harder than most stars at that time.  He spent extra time before and after practice, doing whatever it took to be an elite player.

 

Did you ever meet Red Auerbach?

I never met Red Auerbach, but I remember him coming to the practice facility and I could smell his cigar.  We all knew that he was in the building.  I never got a chance to speak with him, but I appreciate what he did for black culture.  He was one of the first to open up the door and bring in black players and provide them with opportunities that hadn’t existed before.

 

Did you ever meet Bill Russell?

You can’t be a Boston Celtic player and have not met and talked to Bill Russell.  He is one of the greatest men I have ever met.  He’s a guy that’s helped pave the way for our culture, and what’s he’s done beyond the basketball court is remarkable.  He is a true pioneer.  Bill Russell also has the best stories, and he is one of the funniest guys.  That laugh is contagious.  When you hear him laugh, you can’t help but start laughing.  You might not know what he’s laughing about, but whatever it is, you’re laughing right along with him.

 

Out of all your coaches, which one had the biggest impact on your career?

Coach Pitino while I was at UK. He taught me the game – the mental aspect and the physical aspect. But most importantly, he prepared me for life after basketball. In fact, as a senior, Coach Pitino set me up with a really good business manager who’s been with me since 1996.

 

What’s an important lesson from Coach Pitino?

The most important thing that he taught me was to not let money define who you are, and to always stay humble. Because of that advice, once I began making a lot of money, it didn’t change who I was as an individual.  The money that comes in, in tandem with the fame from being on TV, results in an extreme pressure to change and let it go to your head, but my foundation in which Coach Pitino helped to create kept me grounded and humble.

 

What did this foundation consist of?

Mostly, it was surrounding myself with a good circle of friends, which was something else Coach Pitino provided. His circle of friends became our circle of friends. That’s one of the things I enjoyed most about him. He didn’t allow us to go out and meet new friends that that could take us away from being who we were, or give us money or some other thing we thought we wanted.

 

Why did you choose the number “00”?

My brother wore it before me, and I wanted to honor him.  I think I did a tremendous job just representing his number.

 

The University of Kentucky retired your number.  What does that me to you?

It’s a great honor, just to be among the great players who have laced up and worn the Blue.  I’ve played with a lot of great guys, and it was fun just being a part of the program.  To think of where I came from – starting out playing in Brownsville with my brothers, and then making to the hardwood of Rupp Arena, who would have thought that?

 

Last Question:  If you had one piece of advice for others, what would that be?

Hard work trumps shortcuts every time.  Put in the work, stay faithful to whatever it is that you choose to pursue, and you can walk away knowing that you’ve done things the right way.

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The Walter McCarty Interview

By:  Michael D. McClellan | The modern day NBA is awash with versatile big men, the kind of players who can score both inside and out, the kind of players who can battle underneath on one possession, and who can step behind the three-point line and knock down a long-distance trey on the next. Dirk Nowitzki is the modern day prototype, but there would soon be others, Kevin Durant, Kevin Love, and Kristaps Porzingis among them.

If Nowitzki is the prototype, Walter McCarty was the precursor; the 6’10” forward could run with the best of the NBA’s bigs, a player equally comfortable taking the ball to the rack or spotting up to drain a three in transition. A better-than-average ball handler on offense, and a capable defender on the other end, McCarty was as versatile as any on the floor  – a hoops Swiss Army Knife that is so coveted in today’s NBA.

Yes, it’s fair to say that McCarty was ahead of his time.

McCarty grew up in Evansville, where, by his senior year at Harrison High School, he’d become one of the most coveted recruits in the hoops-crazed State of Indiana.  The Hoosiers had already landed Calbert Cheaney, who was a few years older than McCarty, and who would go on to win the Wooden and Naismith awards as the National Player of the Year.  McCarty appeared ready to follow his famous friend to Bloomington, until the Kentucky Wildcats signed Rick Pitino as its head coach.  The change of heart wasn’t easy, but in retrospect made perfect sense:  McCarty had played AAU ball with the likes of Tony Delk and Jared Prickett, and Pitino’s up-tempo style perfectly suited his versatility.

The Wildcats reached the Final Four in Pitino’s first season as head coach, falling to a Michigan team headlined by the Fab Five.  Flash-forward to McCarty’s senior season, where he found himself playing on a UK team loaded with future NBA players such as Delk, Derek Anderson, Ron Mercer, Antoine Walker, Nazr Mohammed, Wayne Turner and Mark Pope. Kentucky finished the season 34-2, capping it all with a 76-67 win over Syracuse for the national championship.

McCarty soon found himself selected by the New York Knicks with the 19th selection in the 1996 NBA Draft. He would play in 35 games during his rookie season, with most of his minutes coming at garbage time. It was a sobering experience.  The Knicks would trade McCarty to Boston the following season, where he found himself reunited with former UK players Walker and Mercer. McCarty quickly carved out a niche as a productive big who could run the floor, and who was happy to do the dirty work. He would go on to play 7+ seasons in a Celtics uniform, becoming a fan favorite for his gutsy play and penchant for making the big shot, earning the love and respect of Celtics fans everywhere.

Celtic Nation is proud to bring you this interview.

You were born on February 1, 1974, in Evansville, Indiana.  Take me back to your childhood hoops.

Evansville was a great place to grow up.  I shot ball every now and then, but I didn’t play on a team or in a league until I was in the fifth grade.  I was always the tallest kid, but I didn’t know much about playing the game of basketball.  Most of my friends and classmates did – they were either coached by their parents, or playing in some kind of league, whether it was at the YMCA or in a church league, but that wasn’t me.  I was just tall and out there in the neighborhood playing with the other kids, which was easy to do when you grow up in Indiana.  It seems like every house has a basketball goal in the driveway.  So after school that was always the thing to do.  Always playing ball.

And when I did start playing ball in school, the biggest jump for me was from eight grade to my freshman year at Harrison High School.  That’s when I realized I could really become a good basketball player if I put in the work, and that motivated me to keep working and improving my game.  Before you know it, I was headed to Kentucky.

 

Evansville sits across the river from the Kentucky border.  You could have played with Calbert Cheaney at Indiana University.  What happened?

The University of Evansville was the first school that started recruiting me hard, but really didn’t have any interest in going to Evansville.  I pretty much knew I wanted to play for Kentucky, and there were a lot of reasons for that.  Where my mom worked, she was always around UK fans, and living on the border meant we got to see as many UK games on television as IU games.  IU recruited me, and I was friends with Calbert Cheaney even though he was three years older than myself, but I really had no interest in going to IU.  It really boiled down to the style of ball they played, which was that classic Big 10 style with the big men confined to the post, which didn’t really match up well with the way I wanted to play.  I was the kind of guy who was just as comfortable being out on the perimeter as I was being in the post.

Ironically, my second choice in schools was a Big 10 school – Purdue – but they had a couple of guys that played inside-out.  But UK had Rick Pitino and I knew that his offense was perfectly suited to my skills; I felt that his up-tempo system really fit with the way that I like to play.  And playing on those AAU teams, I got close with guys like Tony Delk and Jared Prickett, and that was a big factor in my decision.

 

What’s it like playing for the Kentucky Wildcats?

Kentucky fans are the greatest fans in the world.  It’s a high-pressure situation – they want to win, but we also want to win, and we expect the best out of ourselves.  Kentucky has a great tradition, and you want to live up to it.  You don’t want to be on that team that doesn’t make the tournament or doesn’t advance in the tournament.  So you always have that pressure of not just getting to the Final Four, but winning the Final Four.

It was a privilege to play there, and those were some of the best years of my life.  The support there is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.  Other schools can say the same thing, but Kentucky fans are Kentucky fans, and they hate everybody else.

 

That ’96 team was loaded – it finished 34-2 and won the national championship.  What was that like for you?

The journey to the championship was incredible.  We knew we were talented and had the potential to be great, but what we had went much farther than just talent.  We were such a close team.  We really enjoyed each other’s company and hanging out with each other away from the basketball court.  We truly cared for each other, and those relationships stand to this day.  And we worked hard – losing left a bad taste in our mouths, and we were determined to finish that season as the last team standing.

 

That championship season wasn’t always easy despite the record.  How did you stay focused?

There’s always going to be bumps along the way, it doesn’t matter what team you play for, and it’s more about how you react to that adversity – how you handle it – that determines your outcome.  It’s the same thing when I went to the Celtics.  There were times when I played a lot of minutes, and times when I didn’t and someone else was out there on the court.  For me it’s all about the challenge, and being enthusiastic in taking on that challenge.  If I found myself not playing, I wanted to figure out what I needed to do to get those minutes back and to get back on the court.  You just have to be excited about the opportunity to get back on your feet and make the most of every situation.

 

You were selected by the New York Knicks with the 19th pick in the ’96 NBA Draft.  Tell me about that.

It was the greatest feeling ever – to be able to do things for your family that you never thought you’d be able to do, that’s just the greatest feeling in the world.  I’d always dreamed of buying my parents a new house, and giving them a new car, but you don’t think you’ll ever be in that position.  And then suddenly you’re able to help them and take some of that pressure off of them.

And I never took it for granted.  I knew that I had to prove myself, and that I had to go out there every day and show the coaches that I belonged in the NBA.  I also knew that I had to earn my salary, and fortunately I had the work ethic to go out there and do the things to perform in this league.  It was a challenge, no question about it, and in many ways it was about starting over again.  I had to go out there and earn my minutes and earn my respect, just like when I was a freshman at Kentucky.

 

The Knicks were pretty good back then – what was it like joining a veteran team?

It was great for me, even though I was on a veteran team and didn’t get a lot of minutes, because that first year I learned the most about being a professional basketball player.  People always ask me how I could learn so much when I didn’t play much, and I tell them all of those guys – Patrick Ewing, Allan Houston, Larry Johnson, John Starks, Charles Oakley, Charlie Ward and Buck Williams – were such great mentors.  Collectively, they took me under their wing and showed me what it was to be a professional.  Things like staying prepared, taking care of my body, getting the proper amount of rest.  How to do the right things in practice.  How to watch film.  All of those things.

Jeff Van Gundy was a great coach for me – I remember that first day of training camp like it was yesterday.  There were three rookies on that team – John Wallace, Dontae Jones and myself.  And coach sits us down and tells us that we’re not going to play this season, no matter how good we were, and that the only minutes we’d get would be if someone got hurt, or if somebody ended up in foul trouble, or if he had to pull somebody out for some reason.  So we had to swallow our pride and check our egos right there.  He said the best thing we could do is be patient, work hard, and learn as much as possible.  And that’s what I tried to do.  I tried to pick up all the little things from all the veteran players.  Those guys were great veterans.  They really looked out for us and showed us how to be professionals.

 

Rick Pitino is hired by the Celtics, and he immediately starts to surround himself with Kentucky players.  Did Pitino really think he could duplicate the success he had at Kentucky on the NBA level?

I don’t think he or anyone else really knew whether it would work or not.  We were still trying to find ourselves as basketball players, so it wasn’t something we could plug into the NBA and guarantee success.  But Coach P believed in it.  He knew he needed guys who knew his system if he was going to pull it off, and what better group of guys than Antoine Walker, Ron Mercer and me?  We’d just previously played for him at the college level, and he knew that we would be in the kind of shape that he needed.  We knew his system and how to execute it.  So I think he felt a certain comfort level in bringing us together to start things off.

 

Walker and Mercer were drafted by the Celtics, but you arrived via trade.  Tell me about that.

I remember how the trade went down – I was getting ready to play in the last preseason game before the start of the 1997-‘98 NBA regular season; the Knicks were literally hours away from playing the Celtics in that game, and I get a call in my room, it was Jeff Van Gundy telling me that I’ve been traded to the Celtics.  So I knew that I wouldn’t be playing that night.  A Celtics coach picks me up, and I go to the game as a guest of the Celtics.

It was the highlight of my NBA career, being traded to the Celtics.  That team has so much history, and there have been so many great players to have played there.  And all of those championships…it was just a great place to play.

 

There were such high expectations when Pitino arrived.  He was hailed as the savior who would turn around a proud franchise.  What happened?

It was tough.  Coach P was able to turn Kentucky around, but the Celtics situation was a lot different.  You’re dealing with a salary cap, a longer schedule, the mindset of the professional athlete.  And then there was the style of ball that he wanted to play.  He wanted the up-tempo style, the high-pressure style, but I just don’t think that can work for an 82-game schedule.  There were a lot of games that it worked for us, and then certain times when it didn’t.  I think if he could have taken the reins off a little bit he could have been a helluva NBA coach.

At Kentucky he was adored, in the pros I think he found out that it was truly a business.  It’s a different type of pressure.  It was hard to find the guys who would buy into his system at that level, and it ultimately wore on him mentally.  I think that’s what led him to walk away in frustration.  I think he realized that he was best suited for the college game.

 

In ’98 the Celtics drafted Paul Pierce.  Take me back to Pierce in the early years.

Well, you could tell that Paul was going to be a great player, but there were definitely maturity issues with him.  At that age he was still going out to clubs and doing some of the things that maybe a leader shouldn’t have been doing.  And maybe at that time he didn’t view himself as a leader.  He wanted to play ball and he wanted to have fun, but he’s clearly matured over the years and left a lot of that stuff behind him.  He ended becoming a great leader, and the things that he’s done during his career in Boston definitely put him up there in the discussion with all of the Celtics greats.

 

Pitino ultimately resigned and headed back to the college game.  That’s when Jim O’Brien stepped in and helped the Celtics get back to the playoffs.  What was that like?

We were ready.  We just knew we were going to get after it defensively that season.  We took it upon ourselves to keep opponents from scoring on us – our goal was to contest every shot and force our opponents into low field goal percentages.  Tough shots.  We were one of the top three defensive teams in the league that season.  We really started to trust the system and to trust one another.  We trusted that if a guy got by one of us, that someone would be there to play help defense.  If someone got past me I knew that Eric Williams was going to be there.  If someone got by Eric, we knew that Tony Battie was going to be right there backing him up.  Once we got that down, everything started to flow.  It was a great experience for us, because we came within two games of reaching the NBA Finals.

 

You became close with many of the Celtic legends during your time in Boston.  Guys like Red Auerbach and Bill Russell.

I’ve been so lucky, privileged and blessed.  To get to know people like Bob Cousy, Bill Russell and Tom Heinsohn, I could never truly put into words what these people mean to me.  And as much as I love Tom Heinsohn – he’s a very special person in my life – his late wife Helen was one of the most special people I’ve ever known.  God bless her – she passed away from cancer, and it was one of the hardest things for me to deal with emotionally.  She was such a special lady, and meant so much to me and my family.  I love her dearly.

It was so special to feel like you’re a part of the family, part of one of the greatest organizations in sports.  You just don’t get that anywhere else.  For me as a kid, to think that I would get to sit down and talk to guys like that – guys like Red Auerbach, Satch Sanders, Hondo – the list goes on and on, it was just remarkable.  As a kid growing up in Evansville, I never could have imagined any of that to be possible.

Red was great to be around.  No matter where you were, you could always smell those cigars in the gym.  Bill Russell stayed close to the team while I was there.  And I always called him Captain.  Never Bill, never Mr. Russell.  Always Captain, because he was the captain of all those Celtics championship teams.

Funny story about Bill Russell:  At one point he came into the locker room, and at the time we were a pretty tough defensive team.  But offensively, everybody know that Paul Pierce and Antoine Walker was going to take 90% of the shots.  And I guess the papers were talking a lot about how much Antoine liked to shoot the ball, and how he never passed.  It was a pretty big deal in the media at the time.  Well, Bill came in, and he holds up a copy of that article, and he looks at everyone in the room but Antoine.  And he tells us that the secret’s out, that Antoine is going to be taking a ton of shots, and that if we wanted to get our shots we shouldn’t wait for him to pass – we should wait for him to miss.  And then he looks at Antoine, and he says, ‘From what I’ve seen out of your shot selection, there should be plenty of misses to go around.’  And then the whole room busts out laughing.

I don’t have grandchildren yet, but one of these days I’ll probably be setting down with them and telling them the stories about legends like Bill Russell, and what a privilege it was to even be associated with people like that.

 

You mentioned Tommy Heinsohn.  Pretty special guy, huh?

I think Tommy appreciated what I brought to the table, maybe more than anyone.  My role on that team wasn’t to be the leading scorer.  It was to play great defense, shut down the other team’s best scorer, run the floor, knock down shots in the flow of the offense, and hustle all over the court.  I was the guy who scrapped for the rebound, who dived on the floor for loose balls – you know, the type of player who did a lot of the dirty work that maybe other players didn’t like to do.

So I think I was a throwback player in a certain aspect, and I think Tommy saw that in my game and identified with it.  I think he really respected what I did out there, and he wasn’t shy about broadcasting it during games or otherwise.  He kept a tally of ‘Tommy Points’ for guys who did things that didn’t show up in the stat sheet, and that was really borne out of him watching me play.  He knew that everybody focused on the guy scoring 35 points, or the guy grabbing 20 rebounds, but he changed the way that people look at basketball by pointing out the little things that make a big difference in wins and losses.  So I’m very thankful for him, because he made everybody aware of role players and what role players do – sacrificing their bodies, taking charges, going to the floor for balls.

 

NBA players seem to be hung up on making their mark, leaving their legacy.  And that usually goes hand-in-hand with winning the NBA Championship.

To be honest, I’m very content.  And I hear that talk all the time.  Everyone likes to point out that I didn’t win an NBA title, but I’ve always loved the game of basketball.  I would have loved to have won a ring, but maybe that wasn’t for me.  I had a great time and really enjoyed it, and I’m content to have walked away from the game like I did without winning it.

 

Seriously?  You don’t have any regrets about not winning a championship with the Celtics?

Absolutely not.  Would it have been special?  There’s no question, I would have loved to have won an NBA Championship.  That’s what we all dream about as players.  But I was fortunate to win an NCAA championship at Kentucky, and I was able to play 10 years in the NBA, many of those with the greatest franchise in professional basketball.  I feel like I’m part of a special family in that regard.  And I’m not someone who is defined strictly by what he did on the basketball court.  I have other interests, like my music and my family, and I’m content with how my life has played out to this point.  It’s been great, and I’m looking forward to the future.

 

You were traded 44 games for the Celtics during the 2004-‘05 season, but you still consider yourself a Celtic For Life.

Boston is the place that I call home.  The fans are the best in the world.  They know their basketball and they appreciate blue collar players who play hard and know their role.  That was me.  I tried to do my best to help the team win – if that meant diving for loose balls or running to my spot and shooting a three, I could tell that the fans really appreciated the things that I did while wearing a Boston Celtics uniform.

 

Let’s talk soul, man.  You’ve always been into music.  Tell me about your passion.

When I was four or five, I was singing with my family in the church.  My aunt got me started – myself, my brother, my two sisters, my cousin…we’d sign in the afternoon services.  So I grew up singing, and from a very early age it was always a passion of mine.  And as I got older, I started singing in middle school choir, then high school and church choir, and on the street corners with my friends.  When I went to Kentucky, I selected the School of Fine Arts.

I’ve always loved music.  In 2003 I released my first CD, Moment for Love, but I really didn’t have the time I needed to promote it due to playing basketball.  I have a recording studio in my home, and about a year ago I had the urge to express myself musically, so I started writing again and decided it was time to put out another CD.

For me, my time was consumed with basketball, but after I retired I took about a year off and just recharged my batteries.  I just completely relaxed, and spent time with my family.  It was important, because basketball had been my whole existence from the time I was about eleven or twelve years old.  And when I finally felt refreshed, I decided that it was time to follow my passion and do what I love.  That’s when I went into the studio again and was able to produce Emotionally.  My friends dog me and give me a hard time because I’m always singing, but I love it.  It’s the thing I like to do most – that’s just me, I love music, and I really enjoy being able to express myself musically.

 

Final Question – If you could pass on one piece of advice on life, what would that be?

Do your best in everything you do.  And I’ve always leaned on the bible, and I always include the following passage from Proverbs 3:5-6 in all my emails:  Trust the Lord with all Thy heart, Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.  And there is something else to live by:  Give without remembering, and take without forgetting.

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The Kevin Gamble Interview

By: Michael D. McClellan | He played for the Boston Celtics during a period of nervous change, joining the club just as the Big Three was beginning to break down, its parts worn from too many minutes and too little rest, the post-Bias funk settling in like a fog, thick, heavy and unrelenting.  He played valiantly through the Jimmy Rodgers and Chris Ford Eras, which is to say that he competed during the slow decay of basketball’s greatest franchise, his sizable contributions spilled in fruitless pursuit of the NBA’s greatest prize.  He was there as Larry Bird lay prone in front of the Celtic bench, Bird’s back so creaky that his greatness, routinely on display for more than a decade, could only be coaxed out between bouts with pain.  He was there for Larry Legend’s inevitable retirement, as he was for Kevin McHale’s farewell one season later.  He grieved through the tragic loss of Reggie Lewis, and he played through final days of the historic Boston Garden.  That Kevin Gamble – nicknamed Oscar by former teammate Danny Ainge – was able to do any of these things is simply amazing, especially for a player cut by two NBA franchises, passed on by the rest, and then forced to toil overseas.  That Gamble could resurrect his career in the satellite world of the Continental Basketball Association and then, against all odds, play six integral seasons with the Boston Celtics, is as much a testament to his perseverance and work ethic as it is to his high basketball IQ.

Gamble’s basketball odyssey got its start in his hometown of Springfield, Illinois.  He entered Lanphier High just hoping to make the team, but by his senior season Gamble was the star, leading the Lions to the 1983 Illinois Class AA State Basketball Championship.  Gamble scored 67 points in those four tournament games, which culminated with a 57-53 win over Peoria High School.  Lanphier finished the ’83 season 30-3, with Gamble was the only Lanphier player selected to the All-Tournament team.

While few questioned Gamble’s ability at the high school level, many college recruiters wondered whether he possessed legitimate Division I basketball potential.  Gamble believed otherwise.  He was 6’7” with a quick first step and decent range.  He was strong enough to compete beneath the basket, yet quick enough to play the wing.  Still, there was only tepid interest at the major college level, forcing Gamble to enroll at Lincoln Junior College, where he played for two seasons under the tutelage of head coach Alan Pickering.

Two year later, Gamble transferred to the University of Iowa.  Head coach George Raveling kept the junior college transfer pinned to the bench for much of the season.  Gamble’s disappointing junior year took a turn when, as if by divine intervention, Raveling bolted the Iowa program to take the head coaching job at USC.  On April 7, 1986, Iowa named Tom Davis as its new head coach. Davis’ arrival breathed new life into Gamble’s collegiate career.  Given a clean slate, the Springfield product became a key starter for the Hawkeyes, as the team raced to a 17-0 start and the Number 1 ranking in the Associated Press poll.  Iowa finished 30-5 before falling in the NCAA Regional Finals, and Gamble’s play was at the center of it all.  Impressed with what they saw, the Portland Trail Blazers selected Gamble in the third round of the 1987 NBA Draft.

Competing for a roster spot with veteran John Paxson and first round pick Ronnie Murphy, Gamble found himself caught in a numbers game.  He was released, setting off a nomadic wandering from which few NBA castoffs return:  There was a full season spent toiling in the CBA, followed by an invitation to the Detroit Pistons’ rookie camp the following summer, followed by a training camp tryout with the Milwaukee Bucks later that fall.  Gamble then played in the Philippines for a month, before returning to start his second stint in the CBA.  A 12-game hot streak with Quad Cities caught the attention of scouts from several NBA teams, including the Boston Celtics, who reached out with an offer.

Gamble played sparingly those first couple of months, understandable with players like Larry Bird, Dennis Johnson, Reggie Lewis and Brian Shaw ahead of him on the depth chart.  That all changed over the final six games of the regular season.  With DJ nursing a leg injury, Gamble made the most of his minutes and helped the Celtics enter the playoffs on a positive note.  Gamble continue to play well in the postseason until going down with a groin injury, as the aging Celtics were swept in the first round by the Detroit Pistons.  Still, the sample size was enough to convince the Celtics to bring him back.

“My big break,” Gamble says with a smile.  “I knew I had to made the most of my opportunity if it came my way, and I think I showed them what I could do.”

Gamble played in 71 games the following season, averaging 5.1 points in 13.9 minutes-per-game.  The Celtics entered the playoffs with high hopes, jumping to a 2-0 series lead against the New York Knicks, only to drop the next three games, eliminated in the first round for the second year in a row.

1990-91 proved to be Gamble’s breakout year.  He played in all 82 games, averaged 15.6 points (fourth on the team, behind Bird, Lewis and McHale), and helped the Celtics to a 56-26 record and a return to first place in the Atlantic Division.  The Celtics were again faced with a Game 5 in the opening round, this time against Reggie Miller and Indiana Pacers. When Bird’s head bounced off the Boston Garden parquet, forcing him to the locker room with a concussion, it looked as if another first-round exit were in the making.

“Larry wasn’t going out in the first round again,” Gamble says, smiling at the recollection.  “We knew he was coming back out there, and that he was going to play big, but it was just an incredible moment to see him walk back out of that tunnel.  The place went crazy, and we were able to beat the Pacers and move on.  Unfortunately, we lost to the Pistons in the next round.”

Gamble played in all 82 games the next season, but the Celtics were eliminated by the Cavaliers in the second round of the playoffs.  Bird retired over the summer, and Boston entered the 1992-93 season with Parish and McHale playing well beyond their All-Star years.  Facing the upstart Charlotte Hornets in the opening round of the playoffs, the Celtics succumbed quietly, 3-1.  The series is best remembered for Reggie Lewis’ strange collapse in Game 2.  Replays showed Lewis clutching his chest, as if unable to catch his breath.  A team of cardiologists would later diagnose Lewis with a rare heart ailment, urging him to retire immediately from professional basketball.  Two months later Lewis was dead, collapsing while shooting baskets at Brandeis University.

“An unbelievable loss,” Gamble says.  “Devastating to the team, to the community, and to his family.  Reggie Lewis was just a tremendous person.”

Gamble would play one more season in a Celtic uniform, before finishing his NBA career with stints with the Miami Heat and Sacramento Kings.  He would retire following the 1996-97 regular season, having played ten seasons in a league that didn’t want to give him a chance.  In beating the odds, Gamble proved that hard work and dedication can go a long way toward big time success.  He remains forever grateful to the Celtics for taking a chance on him, when everyone else had their doubts.

“I’ll always be a Boston Celtic,” Gamble says.  “There were so many great times.  So many great players.  It was just an honor to be a part of that great tradition – it’s something that I’ll never forget.”

You were born on November 13th, 1965 in Springfield, Illinois.  What sports were you into?

Basketball and baseball were the two main sports that I liked to play.  I liked to watch football, but it wasn’t one of the sports that I really competed in.  And as I got older, I focused more and more on basketball.

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You have described yourself as an ‘observer type.’  Did this help make you a better basketball player?

I don’t know if it made me a better basketball player – it’s really hard to say.  That’s just my personality, and that’s just what type of person I am.  I’m laid-back and observant, so I guess I was able to learn quite a bit by observing other players.  That might have had something to do with it.  It was also the hard work that I put in from a very early age, as a child coming up and playing basketball everyday.  And that might have had more to do with it than anything.

 

You led Lanphier High to a state championship in 1983.  Looking back, what stands out about that championship season?

Just the whole experience.  We knew we were going to have a pretty good ball club when we were seniors in high school, because the majority of us had been together since eighth or ninth grade.  It was just a very good nucleus of players that came from different grade schools and middle schools, so we knew we were going to have a special team that last year.  We thought that, with our talent and a little luck, we might be able to win a state championship, so it was always in the back of our minds.  We were fortunate enough to win it.  We had guys at every position, from point guard all the way to center – everybody knew their roles and everybody played their roles.

 

You played two seasons at Lincoln Junior College.  Tell me about your head coach, Alan Pickering.

Coach Pick was my first adult role model in my transition from adolescence to a young man.  He was that person that took me to the next step in my life.  He molded me, and showed me what I had to do to make it at the college level.  He also helped me to transition from living at home to living on my own.  I’d never been alone and away from home like that before.  Coach Pick helped me with what seem like simple things now, such as managing my time and building strong study habits, but a the time it all seemed overwhelming.  He taught me not only to be a better basketball player, but also a better person.

 

You transferred Iowa for your junior season, but didn’t play much under head coach George Raveling.

That first year was very disappointing.  Not that we didn’t get along, but Coach Raveling and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye.  He didn’t see me as the player that Coach Pickering saw me as, or that my high school coaches saw me as.  I was primarily a guard/forward in high school.  I played guard at Lincoln College.  But once I got to Iowa, Coach Raveling saw fit to play me at power forward, with guys like Eddie Horton, Brad Lohaus, and Al Lorenzen.  Lohaus was a seven-footer.  Eddie Horton was 6’8”, and probably weighed 260 pounds at the time.  Al Lorenzen was 6’8”, 250.  And I was playing the same position at 6’6”, 205.  So it was very disappointing.  I wish I could have red-shirted that year.  I think I averaged a total of  six minutes per-game that year, so it was very disappointing in terms of athletics.

 

That all changed under Tom Davis – you led the Hawkeyes to a 30-5 record and the NCAA tournament regional finals.

When Coach Davis came in, he met with us and said that we were starting with a brand new slate.  He said that nobody had positions, and that you had to go out and earn your playing time.  I ended up winning two positions on our ball club – the two guard spot, and the small forward position.  I primarily played the two – shooting guard – for Coach Davis, and he’s probably the main reason I had a chance to make it to the NBA.  I did have a pretty good senior season and a pretty good tournament, and because of that I ended up being drafted by Portland in the third round of the 1987 NBA Draft.

 

You were drafted by Portland in the third round, but waived after only nine games.  What happened?

Early on I was just trying to define myself , to see where I fit in.  My stint with the Portland Trail Blazers was a good one – I could tell that I could fit, that I could play in the NBA.  I gained a lot of confidence playing with Terry Porter, Clyde Drexler, Jerome Kersey, Kevin Duckworth and guys like that.  Being a rookie, I basically held my own.  They had a couple of guys injured to start the season.  John Paxson was out, and so was their first round pick, Ronnie Murphy.  So I made it through training camp and made the ball club.  I think the team knew that I was good enough to play NBA ball, but unfortunately for me, it turned out to be a numbers game.  They weren’t going to cut their first rounder, and they weren’t going to cut a veteran like John to keep a rookie like myself.  So it boiled down to a numbers game there in Portland.  Coach Adelman was there as an assistant to Mike Schuler, and those guys told me that I was good enough to play in the NBA.  They told me to not give up, to hang in there, and that sooner or later I would get my chance to show that I could play pro ball.  So even though I was released, it was a very good time for me.

 

What did you do next?

It was disappointing not being able to stick in the NBA, but I just kept busy playing basketball.  I played a full season in the CBA after being cut by Portland – I think I averaged 20 points and 8 rebounds-per-game – and had a successful season.  Everyone that I talked to said the same thing:  In order to play NBA basketball, I had to learn to play great defense.  So that’s what I worked on while playing in the CBA.  I expected to get a mid-season call from an NBA team, but it didn’t work out that way.

From there, I ended going to Detroit that next summer.  They had drafted Fennis Dembo from Wyoming in the first round of the 1988 NBA Draft, and they had also brought in a couple of free agents.  I played well in that camp also, but again, they already had their players picked out.  They had Bill Laimbeer, Dennis Rodman, Isiah Thomas, Adrian Dantley, Vinnie Johnson, Joe Dumars, Rick Mahorn and John Sally.  So I knew that it was going to be hard to make that ball club.  That same summer I went to the Milwaukee Bucks’ mini-camp.  I thought played well there, but for whatever reason I didn’t catch on, so that’s when I went over to the Philippines.  I was there for a month.  It was a good experience – I was able to see a different part of the world – but it just wasn’t my cup of tea, so to speak.  I came back home, and that’s when I rejoined Quad Cities of the CBA.  I think I played twelve games for them, and I averaged close to 30 points-per-game during that stretch.  And that’s when I got the call from the Boston Celtics.

 

On December 15th, 1988, the Celtics signed you for the remainder of the season.  How did you find out they were interested?

Ron Grinker – my agent out of Cincinnati, Ohio, who is no longer with us – called me up, and said that I had two teams that were interested in me.  One was the Portland Trailblazers, who wanted me back, and the other was the Boston Celtics.  At the time I knew that I was going to be called up, but at the time the Celtics were the last team that I thought would ever call me.  There was no particular reason for that feeling, but with all the history and championships, and with the roster that they had at the time, I just didn’t think that they would want me.  Ron said that those were the two teams that wanted me, so we sat down and talked about it.  I finally decided against Portland because of the way things went there the first time around.  I just made up my mind and said, ‘Let’s go to Boston.’

 

One moment you’re playing in the CBA, the next you’re contending for an NBA Championship with legendary players like Larry Bird, Kevin McHale and Robert Parish.  What was it like joining the team for the first time?

I immediately got on a flight and went to Boston.  The first day of practice I walk out there, and the guys are already on the court.  I’m shaking in my boots a little bit, but it’s easy to understand why:  You look at the other end of the court, and you see Kevin McHale.  You see Larry Bird.  You see Dennis Johnson.  It’s like, ‘Wow.’  It didn’t feel like I had arrived; it was more a need to show these guys that I could play.  Practice proceeded, and those guys welcomed me with open arms.  I introduced myself.  Of course, you probably know some of the stories about McHale and Danny Ainge – the two jokesters on the team – and I think it was Danny who pointed out that the Celtics suddenly had two Kevins on the roster.  And when I told them that my last was Gamble, Danny’s eyes lit up.  Danny had played professional baseball for the Toronto Blue Jays, and a guy named Oscar Gamble played for the New York Yankees during that time, so Danny started calling me Oscar.  The nickname stuck with me for the rest of my career with the Celtics.

 

During practice, you used to play some friendly one-on-one with Kevin McHale.  How did those games turn out?

I won some and I lost some.  Kevin had to guard perimeter guys – Larry wasn’t the quickest guy, but Kevin was long.  KC and Coach [Chris] Ford used to have Larry guard the bigger guys in practice, mostly fours [power forwards].  McHale used to guard the threes [small forwards], who were quicker.  He used to practice with me to work on his quickness.  Kevin had those long arms.  He wasn’t real quick, but he moved his feet well.  He would give you space, and then, when you went up for your jump shot, he would contest it with those long arms and his reach.  So I think that was one of the things that he wanted to work on, because he was going to be matched up against players my size, or even bigger, who could take the ball to the basket.  But we had fun.  Playing one-on-one with those guys taught me a lot of things.  I learned a lot about basketball being around them, observing them, and also playing against them in practice.

 

Dennis Johnson once convinced you to lead them onto the Garden floor when the team was introduced.  What happened?

I had forgotten all about that, but now that you mention it I do remember [laughs].  Dennis came up to me and said that it was a tradition in Boston to have the new guy lead them out.  I can’t remember if it was my first game with the team, but I do remember that it was during Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s farewell tour.  We were playing the Lakers, of course, and I ran out of the tunnel and into the gym.  When I got on the court I turned around and looked back, and all of the guys were still back there in the tunnel, laughing at me.  It was funny because here I am, this young kid standing on the fabled parquet floor, who has watched this place on television for years-and-years, through all of those battles between the Celtics and the Lakers, and also against the Philadelphia 76ers.  That’s what made it so horrifying for me, and such a good joke for them.  I was so nervous, and I was also embarrassed.  For them to put me out there like that, I’m surprised that I didn’t faint [laughs].

 

It looked like you might be released after that first season, but then DJ gets hurt.  Tell me about the turning point.

I remember when DJ rolled his ankle in Atlanta – it was really bad – and we’re flying back to Boston that night, knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to finish up the season.  We didn’t know if he was going to miss all six games, but we did know that he was going to miss a few.  Our next game was against Cleveland, and we’re in the locker room going through our normal pre-game stuff.  Coach [Jimmy] Rodgers comes into the locker room with the Cleveland’s starting lineup – Larry Nance, Brad Dougherty, Ron Harper, and so forth.  Jimmy looks at Brian Shaw, and he tells him that he will guard Mark Price.  Then he looks at me, and he says, ‘Oscar, you’re going to be starting, and you’ve got Ron Harper.’  That was the first time that I heard that I was going to starting in the NBA.  I’ll never forget that feeling.  Of course, everybody knew what Ron Harper could do – he was one of the best players in the NBA.  He was known as a very good all-around player, strong offensively and defensively, which made my first start exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time.  I think I had 20 points, 10 assists and seven rebounds.  From that point on I think everyone on the team knew that they could count on me.

 

The Celtics were swept from the 1989 NBA Playoffs by the Bad Boys from Detroit.

I think we limped into the playoffs that year and had to play the Bad Boys.  The one thing that I do remember – and it wasn’t a good memory for me – was that I got hurt during the first game of that series.  I pulled my groin.  It was a severe pull, so it obviously wasn’t a good series for me.  I remember playing against Isiah, and Dumars, and the Microwave [Vinnie Johnson].  I think that might have been the first of their back-to-back championship seasons.  It was a great experience, but I just wish that I could have been healthy enough to contribute more.

 

The Celtics bring you back the next season.  What was it like to go through training camp with the rest of the team?

It was fun. It’s hard to remember now, but just going through a full training and getting ready for the regular season was a luxury.  It helped in terms of getting my timing down with my teammates, because Larry was coming back and we had some adjustments to make.  It was fun being around the guys, and getting the chance to play with some of the best basketball players in the world.  You learn something everyday.  You pick up so many little things about the game.  So it was an exciting time for me; going through the preseason games, going on the flights with the team…it was a lot of hard work, but I came away from it with a lot of great memories.  It also made me a better basketball player.

 

The ’89-’90 season ended with heartbreak, as the Celtics were eliminated from the first round for the second consecutive season.  What happened in that series against New York, and how were the Knicks able to win that decisive game in the Boston Garden?

I didn’t play a lot that series – they were a bigger team, so they went big and we countered by going with a big rotation.  Patrick [Ewing] had a great series against us.  Gerald Wilkins had a great series.  The Knicks played good team basketball and had us on our heels.  If a team gets hot in a five game series, then it can definitely make things difficult for the opponent, and that’s basically what happened.  The Knicks tied the series in New York, and then came into Boston and won that deciding game in the Garden.  We had no one to blame but ourselves; if you don’t take care of homecourt, then you’re usually not going to win a playoff series.  The Knicks were a young team coming up, and Patrick was hungry.  They were able to do it.  You have to give them credit.

 

The ’91 playoff series against the Indiana Pacers is best remembered for Larry Bird’s return after banging his head on the Garden floor.

You just knew he was going to return, but you didn’t start getting excited until the fans saw him walk out of that locker room.  So we knew he was going to come back – he’d done so many amazing things during his career, and he’d hit so many big shots.  He was the master of taking over a game.  So it was one of those times when you’d just sit back and watch, and that you were just glad to be a part of it.

 

Larry Bird retired following the ’91’92 season.  By then you were in integral part of the team, earning your reputation and playing time with solid defense.  With Larry gone and the rest of the Big Three in decline, did you assume more of a leadership role with the Celtics?

Yes and no – I just tried to go to work every day and put up my normal numbers.  I wasn’t a vocal leader.  I tried to lead by example, so I guess you could say that I was a lunch pail type of player.  I worked hard in practice every day, and gave my all on the court.  I tried to defend my man with maximum intensity.  I used to watch Chief [Robert Parish], and he always came to work.  And he worked hard.  I tried my best to emulate that, because I always felt that Robert set a good example of the younger players on the team.  To me, he was the consummate pro.  Whether it was in practice or in a game, you knew that Robert was going to give his best at all times.  So I tried to imitate the things that he tried to do.

 

Tell me about the great Red Auerbach.

I remember when I held out for my contract.  The Celtics always have a dinner in the Quincy area for the media – the old Celtic players always come out.  It was around the time when the players started pulling down million dollar contracts, and stuff like that.  I was mainly a scorer who played solid, fundamental defense, and Red just couldn’t understand how a guy who didn’t rebound could make a million bucks [laughs].

Before games he would come in the locker room and talk about the days when he coached, and some of the guys that he coached.  Guys would be getting ready to get their ankles taped, and of course Red is on the taping table telling those old stories, and you couldn’t get your ankles taped [laughs].  So you’ve got to listen to the stories before the game, and time is clicking, and you have to wait for him to get those stories out.  But for him to come in and sit and talk, that means a lot.  Especially to some of the younger guys.  He would come in and give you encouragement – he’d tell you to relax and just shoot the ball, and that really made you feel like you were a part of something special – but most of the time he would come in to tell his stores and show off his rings [laughs].

 

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

Work hard.  If you have a dream, don’t let anything get in your way.  Do it the right way, because there are no shortcuts to success.  It takes hard work and dedication – some people like the quick fix, but there is no quick fix out there.