Written By: Michael D. McClellan | Red Auerbach is only weeks removed from his 85th birthday, and the cigar-smoking patriarch of the Boston Celtics is as sharp—in mind and tongue—as ever. He answers the telephone, listening silently in a way that reminds me of Marlon Brando’s character in The Godfather, a comparison that doesn’t seem far from the truth. Larry Bird once said it best: “When Red Auerbach walks into the room, everyone knows their place. Everyone respects him. And when Red says something you listen to him.”
I nervously make my pitch, convinced that having a mutual friend will be good enough to score an exclusive. Harold Furash has known Auerbach for decades—“Half Court” Harold used to ref those preseason barnstorming exhibitions as a favor for Red—and he’s already greased the rails by calling ahead earlier in the week. The interview, I decide, is a slam dunk.
“No,” Auerbach says flatly, breaking the silence. It’s a one-word gut punch. If a recommendation by Auerbach’s close friend isn’t enough to seal the deal, then what real chance do I have? “I don’t want to sound mean here, but I don’t have time for this crap. Do you know how many people want to interview me? Do you know how many calls I get?”
I feebly tell him that I can only imagine.
“Three thousand a year,” he shoots back. There’s no way to know if he’s blowing smoke, and even if he were, who am I to call bullshit? Red Auerbach is as legend as they come, the Original Gangster, the dopest coach to ever work an NBA sideline. “Do you know how many I turn down? I’m 85 years old. I’m too damned old to do these anymore, so I don’t do these anymore.”
Panicked, I rattle off my just-completed interviews with Frank Ramsey, K. C. Jones, and Satch Sanders, all Hall of Famers handpicked by Auerbach during the Celtics’ heyday. I remind him about Harold’s call earlier in the week.
“What’s your name again? Where are you calling from?”
I give him my backstory and offer up my credentials. I ramble on about the merits of a book that tells the story of the Boston Celtics through my interviews with key figures big and small.
“Send me something to look at,” he says at last. “I’m letting you know right now that I won’t do an interview, but I’ll take a look at your work. But don’t send me a lot—I don’t have time to fool with this stuff.”
I send him three sample chapters, along with the questions that I’d like to ask him, and follow up with a phone call a few days later. He tells me to hold on. I hear the sound of papers rustling on the other end of the line.
“Look, you’re material is good, but I can’t answer these questions. I’m not answering them because I’m working on another book and I’m not giving that information away. What’s this for again?”
I pitch my idea: Interview as many Celtics players and coaches from different eras, and then tell the history of the Boston Celtics through their own words.
“No, no, no,” he says firmly. “I can’t do this. How much are you making on this?”
I think about my interview with Ramsey, and how he’d negotiated his first contract with Auerbach during a Red Sox game at Fenway Park. I remember Heinsohn’s story, about how he’d talked contract with Auerbach while relieving himself in front of a bathroom urinal.
“Would you be willing to answer just one question from the list?”
Silence.
“I’ll give you one,” he snaps, as the paper rustling begins anew. “I’ll answer the Asimov question, and that’s all you get.”
It’s an offer I can’t refuse. And then a funny thing happens—he answers another. And another. Questions on the paper in front of him, questions that come to me as we talk. And just like that, I’m talking shop with The Godfather.
What memories do you have of World War I as a young child in Brooklyn?
I don’t remember; how could I? The war was over before I was old enough to have any memories of it. My father wasn’t drafted or anything like that. He had a medical exemption.
You worked in your father’s dry-cleaning shop.
I worked from ten in the morning until ten at night. I pressed clothes. I’d press 100 suits a day. I have no complaints because work like that keeps you humble. Hell, I pressed clothes for years after that. Pressed ’em after I became famous. It always reminded me of where I came from.
Did you ever see the Original Celtics play? No, this all took place before I was born and then when I was very young. I knew who the Original Celtics were—hell, everyone knew. They barnstormed all over the place, played games who knows where. They were what I’d call the first famous basketball team. People who didn’t know what basketball was learned about it from the Original Celtics.
Is it true that Isaac Asimov was one of your classmates at Seth Low Junior College? He went to Seth Low. I knew Asimov. He was a bright guy who couldn’t sit still. He told a lot of jokes. We kept in touch through the years.
Please tell me about your basketball coach at George Washington.
Bill Reinhart was a great man, an innovator. He was running the fast break before anyone else. He was also a quiet man, very reserved. As a coach, he was 30 years ahead of his time. As one of his players, I remember his practices, and how tough they were. Bill never lost his poise. He was always in control. He could adapt to any situation, and he could talk to a broad range of people.
How were the two of you alike?
Reinhart rubbed off on me. We were alike in a lot of ways, but we were different, too. He was more poised with his temper. He was quiet. I was on the officials more, that was my style.
How much did Reinhart influence you as a coach? Bill insisted that his players be in top physical shape—if you were in better condition than your opponent then you had the edge. I took that with me. The fast break, that was something that stuck with me. The way he ran his practices, the control that he had over his team, those things.
You once coached Bowie Kuhn. How did that go? Bowie Kuhn was a big kid, something like 6–5. He was clumsy, though, wasn’t a basketball player. I saw that as soon as I got a look at him in practice. I cut him after a few weeks.
NFL quarterback Sid Luckman once asked to borrow $20. You gave him $100. Why? It’s simple human nature. You give a man twenty, and both of you might forget about it. You give a man a hundred, and neither forgets.
One of your masterstrokes was drafting Larry Bird as a junior eligible in 1978.
I did that with Frank Ramsey in ’53. I drafted Ramsey, Cliff Hagan, and Lou Tsioropoulos, all of them from the University of Kentucky. They were juniors who had been redshirted.
You were famous for your contract negotiations. Where did you talk contract with Frank Ramsey?
Fenway Park, in the Red Sox dugout. We talked, came to an agreement, and that was that. See, back then, you didn’t have the agents that you have today, and the contracts weren’t anywhere close to what you have today. Things were much simpler, and you could get things done without lawyers and agents.
As a coach, what do you think was your strongest attribute?
My ability to communicate with the players. That was the thing that I took the most pride in. There are a lot of coaches out there that know their Xs and Os, but a lot of what they say doesn’t translate once the player gets out on the court, because the player gets out there and forgets what was just said. I took pride in my ability to communicate, to get my point across in a way that the player could understand.
Did you communicate with all of your players in the same way?
No, you can’t be successful doing that. It doesn’t work. There were some players who could take getting balled out and who responded to that type of communication. I never balled out Cousy or K. C. Jones because that didn’t work with them. I could scream at a Russell or a Ramsey. I could get on Heinsohn and Loscutoff. Those players were able to take that type of approach.
Tell me about Bob Cousy.
Cousy was coachable. He listened. He was introverted. Like I said before, I didn’t get on him the way I got on Heinsohn and some of the others. The main thing was that he didn’t sulk if I pulled him out of a game and told him to cut down on the razzle-dazzle stuff.
When Cousy retired, K. C. Jones became a starter. Did you coach your team differently?
You coach to the personnel you have on your team, you don’t try to fit the personnel into the system. When we had Cousy, we had that fast break—Russell pulling down the rebounds, and Cousy pushing the ball up the court—and we took advantage of it because I coached to take advantage of it. K. C. was limited on the offensive end, but he made up for it on defense. So I coached to that. A lot of coaches have their system, and that’s the way it is. They fit the players into the system and it doesn’t always work out for the best. That’s crap. You’ve got to be willing to look at your personnel and adjust.
Cousy and Sharman were your first great backcourt. Then comes Sam Jones and K. C. Jones.
Cousy was a great player. Sharman was such a good shooter. When they were playing, they were a great combination for us. Sam and K. C. were coming off the bench at the time, and you knew they were going to be good. But the questions about these two guys were still there until they stepped in and proved themselves. As it turned out, they were Hall of Fame guards, and they were just good in their own ways. We were a different, more defensive-oriented back there, but just as good.
Satch Sanders is another one of those great defensive players.
Satch Sanders is an extremely intelligent individual. He knew his role on the team, and he played tough defense on high-scoring forwards like Dolph Schayes, Elgin Baylor, and Bob Pettit. I can’t say enough good things about Satch Sanders.
In your opinion, where does Bill Russell rank in NBA history?
Bill Russell and Michael Jordan were the two greatest players to ever play the game. Russell made everyone play better. When it comes to winning, no one comes close. The players closest to these two were Larry Bird and Magic Johnson. Shaq is right there in the same group.
You have a special relationship with Russell.
I treated him with respect, and I respected him as person. If something came up I’d talk to him about it privately. It would get settled, and we’d move on. Did I treat him differently than the other players on the team? Yes. He might not practice as long as the others, but there were many nights when he would play the entire game. A few concessions like that goes a long way.
Please tell me about John Havlicek.
Havlicek was a great player who did things on and off the court. By that I mean he took care of himself, which allowed him to play 16 years in the league.
You’ve won a total of 16 NBA championships in various capacities. Do you have a favorite?
The first one was the best. The best one is always the first time you win.
The death of Lenny Bias in 1986 changed the fortunes of the Celtics for years to come.
You couldn’t know how good he was unless you saw him play. Bias was one of the early guys that was 6-foot-8 and could really run. I knew him, knew his family. I planned for three years to draft him.
Do you think Bias was a drug user?
Bias was not a drug user. That’s why he died—he didn’t know how to use them. We tested him a week before the draft, and so did a lot of other teams. He passed three physicals from three different teams.
In 1993, Reggie Lewis died from a heart condition.
I liked Lewis a lot. He was a hell of a kid, and he did a lot for the community. It’s a shame what happened.
What did his death do the Celtics?
The bad break of it all was that the league never gave us a chance to recover from Reggie Lewis. Forget about Bias—they never gave us a pick or anything to recover from that—but they could have given us cap money to use when we lost Reggie. Because his contract was guaranteed, the league made us carry his salary on our cap for three years. Three! Today, they changed that rule. They realized how shabbily they treated us. When you lose two All-Star players and get nothing back—just think about that. Go to New Jersey and take away Kidd and their next best player. Where the hell would they be?
Paul Pierce almost died in that stabbing incident in a Boston bar.
He was lucky. I think he learned a lesson. Pierce is fearless on the court. He can play the two guard or the small forward position. He’s going to be great.
If you could offer one piece of advice on life to others, what would that be?
I don’t have one piece of advice—how can there only be one? A lot constitutes toward being successful. I’d say that you’ve got to be willing to pay the price, that’s the most important thing. And then there are the other things that count—promptness, integrity, honesty, respect. Those things are all part of the package.
https://i0.wp.com/www.celtic-nation.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/Red_Auerbach.png?fit=600%2C400&ssl=1400600Michael McClellanhttps://www.celtic-nation.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/celtics-clover-logo2.pngMichael McClellan2018-12-15 17:36:262018-12-25 17:36:48The Red Auerbach Interview
By: Michael D. McClellan | The man known as “Cornbread” arrives as the Celtics bottom out, the organization’s future as cloudy as a room filled with Red Auerbach’s cigar smoke. After decades of acquiring talented, high-character players who put the team’s goals ahead of their own, Boston is suddenly a breeding ground for malcontents and me-first players, as a wave of overpaid and under-performing athletes infect the NBA. The 1977–78 season disintegrates almost as soon as it begins, a campaign that sees Jo Jo White shut down with injuries, Charlie Scott traded away, and Heinsohn fired after 34 games. Havlicek, the team’s elder statesman, plays all 82 games and does his best to represent Celtic Pride. He announces his retirement on January 29, 1978, igniting a league-wide farewell tour that ends with a meaningless 131–114 Boston Garden victory over the hapless Buffalo Braves. The ongoing drama rolls through the summer and on into the 1978–79 season, headlined by Auerbach’s courtship with the rival Knicks.
In steps Cedric Maxwell, who joins the Celtics as the 12th pick in the 1977 NBA draft. A star at lightly-regarded UNC-Charlotte, Maxwell’s promising transition to the pros goes largely unnoticed due to the circus atmosphere permeating North Station. He plays in 72 games, averaging seven points and five boards, and displays a knack for cleaning up missed shots. Not a bad start for a player hoping to ball elsewhere.
“When I found out I was going to be drafted by Boston, I couldn’t believe it,” Maxwell says. “I’m a Southern boy. I wasn’t prepared to make my home in Boston. Besides, I heard that Atlanta was going to take me with the 14th pick if I were still on the board, so it wouldn’t have broken my heart if Red had passed on me.”
Maxwell’s road to the NBA starts in Kinston, North Carolina. It’s hardly the Jim Crow South, but it isn’t the most progressive place, either.
“North Carolina was a segregated situation in the late ’50s and early ’60s. I vividly remember the white and colored water fountains and bathrooms.”
Maxwell lives in Kinston until age six, at which point his father’s military obligation takes him to Hawaii.
“I felt isolated . . . Hawaii was a great environment and a great learning experience, so it’s really hard to complain. I remember my mother taking us to the beach on Thanksgiving and Christmas, and how much fun we had on those trips together as a family. Culturally, we were around a lot of Asian kids and native Hawaiians. The diversity was quite a contrast from North Carolina in the late ’50s.”
They say that all roads lead home. In Maxwell’s case, it’s on a commercial flight instead of in the family station wagon.
“We moved back to Kinston, which is where I played my high school basketball,” Maxwell explains. “I was something of a late-bloomer—I was cut from team as a junior—but I grew from 6–3 to 6–7 in the span of a year, and we ended up winning the state championship. From there I decided to attend UNC-Charlotte.”
Maxwell’s arrival helps transform a basketball program that had never won more than 15 games in a season; the 49ers lose just 18 games during his four years at the school, and the 1976 NIT Tournament becomes known as “Cornbread’s Garden Party,” after the 49ers reach the finals against Kentucky.
“There weren’t many who got to see us play during the regular season, so we were an unknown coming into the NIT. We got on a roll and beat NC State and Oregon. We also beat a very good San Francisco team with Bill Cartwright at center. The loss to Kentucky was tough to take, because we’d had such a good year and the game was close. Rick Robey was on that team. He would later be my teammate in Boston.”
Maxwell is named the tournament’s Most Valuable Player.
“Winning the MVP award proved that I was good enough to play with the best in the country. Unfortunately, we didn’t win the championship. I’d trade the award for a win over Kentucky in the final, no hesitation.”
A year later, UNCC makes a storybook run to the Final Four. Maxwell’s star shines brightest in the 1977 Mideast Regional Final against Michigan. The 75–68 win catapults the 49ers into the Final Four and a date with Marquette, the other Cinderella story of the tournament. With three seconds left in a tight and tense National Semifinal, Maxwell hits a dramatic shot to tie the game at 49. And then…
“Butch Lee of Marquette flings a length-of-the-court inbounds pass toward Bo Ellis,” Maxwell says, shaking his head. “The ball is deflected off of Ellis’s hands, but then it goes directly to his teammate, Jerome Whitehead. Whitehead bumped me, but I was still able to partially block his dunk. The ball hit the backboard and bounced off the rim before dropping. The shot somehow goes in, and Marquette gets the victory. They win the national championship a couple of nights later.”
The four years Maxwell spends on campus represent a Golden Age for UNCC basketball. He averages 20 points and 12 rebounds in each of his final two seasons at Charlotte, and walks away having never lost at home.
“How many players can say that they’ve never lost a home game?” he asks proudly. “We were 58–0. It’s a remarkable statistic because we competed against a mixture of teams during that run, some of them very good. Robert Parish played us in Charlotte, and Centenary was very tough at that time. We beat them by two points. We first faced Robert in the 1975 NIT Tipoff Tournament, and we won that game as well. I had his number in college. He had to come to Boston to keep me from beating him in the pros.”
Had he played for a major program, Maxwell would have been a top five pick. Auerbach, looking for a rebounding forward with a nose for the basket, grabs Maxwell when the Celtics pick at twelve.
“I joined a team that suffered its first losing season in almost ten years,” Maxwell says. “We had veterans who had won two championships together. We also had guys like Dave Bing, Curtis Rowe, and Sidney Wicks. Kermit Washington was brought in and played 32 games. Ernie DiGregorio played 27. We had a collection of former All-Stars, but the chemistry just wasn’t right. It reached a point of desperation. It was a very difficult period.”
The Celtics’ fortunes change with the arrival of Larry Bird in 1979. By the time Bird arrives in Boston he’s already a national phenom, leading Indiana State to 1979 NCAA National Championship Game before falling to Magic Johnson’s Michigan State Spartans. Most expect that Bird will become a solid pro; few, however, can foresee Bird becoming one of the greatest players in NBA history. All Bird does in his first season is lead the Celtics to 61 wins.
“Larry came in with a chip on his shoulder,” Maxwell says. “There were so many people who questioned his talent, and who said that he wasn’t going to be great. Others labeled him the ‘White Hope.’ Larry was determined to come in and prove these people wrong. He worked hard and he carried that attitude with him all the time. He was very motivated to succeed.”
For a young Cedric Maxwell, having Bird on the roster means making personal sacrifices for the good of the team, not an easy ask of a player with so much talent.
“Larry’s arrival meant that my role changed. The previous season I’d averaged 19 points-per-game and was the go-to guy on offense. Larry was suddenly the primary weapon. He played on the opposite side of the basket and I understood the need for me to sacrifice in order to make the team better. Personal statistics and achievements weren’t important to me. I was a team player. I wanted to win, so I concentrated on other aspects of my game.”
Bird’s presence returns a team to its roots—teamwork instead of individual agendas, hard work instead of shortcuts. Three years of dysfunction washes away over the course of 82 games. A playoff defeat at the hands of the Philadelphia 76ers does little to slow the renaissance underway on Causeway Street.
“As for that particular Celtics team, I’d have to say that we were the best that year in terms of the total package, but we just didn’t get the job done in playoffs. Philly was more athletic, and Los Angeles had more foot speed. I think that was obvious to anyone who followed NBA basketball at the time. But I still think that we were the more complete team of the three.”
Bird also brings a swagger to the Celtics. He quickly becomes one of the most famous trash-talkers in the game, a trait that he shares with Maxwell.
“Max was always talking trash,” Larry Bird says, flipping the script. “There would be times when he’d walk into the locker room after an interview and say, ‘Hey, we’ve got to get serious tonight. I just said something the other team’s not going to like.’”
Maxwell: “Larry was a pretty good talker himself—in fact, he was the talker of all talkers! M. L. Carr was always talking trash. Kevin McHale was always talking. Danny Ainge, too. It was total team effort! I talked trash because I knew I’d have to back it up. I didn’t want to go out there and look like a fool after saying things to fire up an opponent. It raised the stakes.”
With Bird and Maxwell, the Celtics’ frontline is good—but when Auerbach engineers a trade with Golden State to land Robert Parish and Kevin McHale, it becomes historic.
“Robert had a bad agent representing him at the time, which helped Red pull off the trade with the Warriors,” says Maxwell. “That was one of the best trades in NBA history—or one of the worst, depending on which end you were on. The Big Three became legendary, and rightfully so. I was the Fourth Musketeer, the guy who got lost in the shadows cast by Larry, Kevin and Robert. I’d like to think that I was a pretty important piece of the puzzle while I was there.”
Boston goes on to win the 1981 NBA Championship, defeating the Houston Rockets. Game 5 of the Finals is vintage Max; with the series deadlocked at two games apiece and Rockets star Moses Malone talking trash, Maxwell responds with a 28-point, 19-rebound performance that helps shift momentum and propel the Celtics to their 14th banner. Maxwell is named Finals MVP.
“That was the year we were down 3–1 to the 76ers in the Eastern Conference Finals,” he says. “Philadelphia had Julius Erving and a great supporting cast, so that series felt like we were playing for the championship. We came back and won three straight close games. Beating Houston was incredible, but we knew that they weren’t as talented or as deep as Philly. Overconfidence was the only thing that would could keep us from winning that series, and we weren’t going to let that happen. Being named MVP was icing on the cake.”
“When most people think of Robert, they see the stoic player who didn’t say much and who didn’t change his expression all that often. He was a talker away from the court, and he could tell a joke. A lot of people don’t realize that about Robert. He was a really funny guy with a very good sense of humor.”
The Celtics win another NBA championship in 1984, this one against Magic Johnson and the heavily favored Lakers. This time it’s Bird who garners MVP honors, but nobody plays bigger than Maxwell when it matters most. “I always looked at myself as a big game player,” Maxwell says. “My mother is a very competitive person. I think that’s where I got it.”
That Maxwell outshines Bird in Game 7 is a surprise to most, but not to those who know him best. He attacks forward James Worthy from the opening tip, scoring 24 points and crashing the boards like a fringe player on a 10-day contract.
“I think my performance against the Lakers was so noticeable because I was more laid back than Larry,” he continues. “Larry only knew one way to play—he gave 110 percent all the time. I turned it on when I needed to. I had a little extra to give in that game.”
Maxwell’s time with the Celtics ends amid a very public feud with Auerbach, when, on September 6, 1985, he’s traded to the Los Angeles Clippers for center Bill Walton. Auerbach accuses his forward of not working hard enough to rehab a knee injury during the team’s failed attempt to repeat as champions, and is so angry that he orders a favorable mention of Maxwell stricken from one of his books.
“I’d like to wish them well even though they didn’t wish me well,” a bitter Maxwell says following the trade. “I’ve got 30 pairs of green tennis shoes. I’m going to spray-paint them white. I don’t want to see anything green unless it’s money.”
Time is a healer of all wounds, and eventually Maxwell and Auerbach are able to forgive and forget.
“It was like a father and son issue, both of us stubborn and unwilling to give in. I was very bitter about the way I was portrayed, because I have a tremendous amount of integrity. I’d played hurt for the Celtics on many occasions, and there was never a time that I didn’t play hard and try to help the team win. And then I hurt my knee. It was hard not to take it personally, but I had to accept that part of the business and move on.”
Through it all, Maxwell leaves his mark: A Final Four appearance. Two NBA titles. The Finals MVP Award. And then, on December 15, 2003, Maxwell’s number 31 is retired to the rafters with all the other great Celtics.
“It means a great deal to be part of the Celtics family,” he says. “When you think of all the great players to wear a Celtics uniform—Russell, Cousy, Havlicek, and Bird to name a few—to have your number retired with theirs is the ultimate honor. I’m very proud of that.”
You were born in Kinston, North Carolina, Monday, November 21, 1955. Please tell me a little about growing up there.
I had a good childhood. My father was a military man and my mother was a traditional, stay-at-home spouse who raised three children. We lived in Kinston until I was six, at which point my father’s military obligation took us to Hawaii. North Carolina was a segregated situation in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s, and I vividly remember when there were “white” and “colored” water fountains and bathrooms.
While UNC-Charlotte’s basketball program has enjoyed recent success, your teams put it on the map. What led you to play your college ball at UNC-Charlotte?
We moved back to Kinston, which is where I played my high school basketball. I was something of a late-bloomer, getting cut from the team as a junior before finally finding success on the court during my senior season. I grew from 6’-3 ½” to 6’-7 ½” in the span of a year, which also helped. It was a wonderful time, and we were a very good team. We won the championship and from there I decided to attend UNC-Charlotte. By that time I was ready to leave home, and the school was far enough away to where I could enjoy my independence. It was also close enough that I could get home when I needed to, which was a big plus. UNC-Charlotte is also a good school with a good reputation. I’m very happy that I decided to go there.
The 1976 NIT Tournament was also known to many as “Cornbread’s Garden Party”. UNC-Charlotte reached the finals against Kentucky and you were named the tournament’s Most Valuable Player. What do you remember most about that tournament, and how special was it to be recognized in such a way?
Our run through the tournament stands out. Beating NC State and Oregon – a lot of people don’t know this, but Oregon was coached by Dick Harter, who is now the assistant coach and defensive guru for the Celtics. We also beat a very good San Francisco team with Bill Cartwright at center. We reached the championship game before losing to Kentucky, 71-67, which was a tough loss to a very good team. Kentucky was coached by Joe B. Hall that season. Rick Robey was on that team, and he would later be my teammate with the Celtics.
Winning the MVP award showed people that I was good enough to play with the best in the country. That’s what meant the most to me about receiving such an honor. There weren’t many who got to see UNC-Charlotte play during the regular season, so we weren’t all that well-known coming into the NIT. We got on a roll and beat some very good teams, so it was very satisfying to run. Unfortunately, we didn’t win the championship.
March 26th, 1977: There are three seconds left in the NCAA National Semifinal between UNC-Charlotte and Marquette. You hit a big shot to tie the game at 49. Tell me what happens next.
Butch Lee of Marquette flung a length-of-the-court inbounds pass toward Bo Ellis. The ball deflected off of Ellis’ hands and went directly to his teammate, Jerome Whitehead. Whitehead bumped me – I still think it was a foul [laughs] – but I was able to partially block his dunk. The ball hit the backboard and bounced off the rim before dropping, but there should have been a goaltending call [laughs]! Jerome clearly touched the ball over the cylinder. The shot goes in and the referees confer before ruling in Marquette’s favor. Marquette and Al McGuire get the victory and continue their Cinderella run to the NCAA Championship.
Very few people realize what I was prepared to do if I’d stolen that long inbounds pass. I was prepared to call timeout immediately after the steal, which wouldn’t have been a very smart thing to do in that situation. Do you know why?
No, why?
Because we didn’t have any timeouts left [laughs]! If I had called timeout I would have been Chris Webber before Chris Webber. Chris became infamous for calling the timeout that he didn’t have, so in that respect I have to thank Jerome Whitehead for sparing me that indignity [laughs].
If you were asked to select a signature game from either of those tournaments, which one would it be and why?
That’s an excellent question – I’ve never been asked that before. If I had to select a signature game it would have to be the 1977 Mideast Regional Final against Michigan. The Wolverines were the number one seed and the heavy favorite to knock us out of the tournament. We went into this game and played with tremendous confidence, and because of this we were able to beat them convincingly. I think the final score was 75-68. I’d select this game because of the work I did on the boards.
You and senior teammate Melvin Watkins can boast of never losing a home game. The 49ers won all 58 games played in the Belk Gym and former Charlotte Coliseum. Where does this accomplishment rank in terms of your overall athletic achievement?
It’s a great accomplishment – how many players can say that they’ve never lost a home game? It’s a remarkable statistic because we played a mixture of teams during that run, some of them very good. Robert Parish played us in Charlotte, and Centenary was very tough at that time. I remember that it was a close game, and that we ended up beating them by 2 points. We first faced Robert in the 1975 NIT Tipoff Tournament, and we won that game as well. It was ironic playing against him in college and then playing with him later as teammates in Boston.
You are the only player in collegiate history to average more than 20 points and 10 rebounds for an NIT semifinalist one year and an NCAA semifinalist the next season. Were you aware of this?
No, but that’s very interesting to hear – I didn’t realize that I held that distinction.
You were drafted by the Celtics and the team went 32-50 during your rookie season. The next year the team won 29 games and by then you’d played for three coaches – all former Celtic greats. At that point in time did you feel as if the Celtics would ever turn things around?
I’d say it was more a case of shock than anything else. Coming in as a rookie, I joined a team that suffered its first losing record since the 1969-70 season. That year we had established and proven veterans on the team like Dave Cowens, John Havlicek and Jo Jo White, guys who had been there and who had won two NBA championships as Boston Celtics. Charlie Scott was on that ’77-’78 team. Dave Bing. Curtis Rowe. Don Chaney. Sidney Wicks. Kermit Washington was brought in and played 32 games. Ernie DiGregorio played 27. In all we had eight guys who were former All-Stars but the chemistry just wasn’t right.
The next season we added players like Bob McAdoo and Tiny Archibald, but the team continued to struggle. It reached a point of desperation. We were grasping at straws, trying different combinations but not getting the desired results. It was a very difficult period.
Larry Bird joins the team in 1979, and the Celtics complete one of the most remarkable turnarounds in NBA history, winning 61 games and the Atlantic Division title in the process. Tell me about that Celtics team in general, and that Larry Bird – the 1979-80 version – in particular. What made both special?
Larry came in with a chip on his shoulder. There were so many people who questioned him as a basketball player, and who said that he wasn’t going to be great. There were other people labeling him as the ‘White Hope’. Larry was determined to come in and prove these people wrong. He worked hard and he carried that attitude with him all the time. He was very motivated to succeed.
Larry’s arrival meant that my role on the team changed. The previous season I’d averaged 19 points-per-game and was the go-to guy on offense. Larry was suddenly the primary weapon. He played on the opposite side of the basket and I understood the need for me to sacrifice in order to make the team better. I had always been a team player, and I was unselfish when it came to personal statistics and achievements. Those things weren’t really important to me. I wanted to win so I sacrificed scoring and began concentrating on other aspects of my game.
As for that particular Celtics team, I’d have to say that we were the best in terms of the total package. Philly was more athletic, and Los Angeles had more foot speed. I think that was obvious to anyone who followed NBA basketball at the time. But I still think that we were the more complete team of the three.
Bill Fitch was brought in as coach of the ’79-’80 Celtics. That team had some great players on it, players like Bird, Tiny Archibald and Rick Robey. Pete Maravich played 26 games for us – who I absolutely loved – but Pete was at the end of a Hall of Fame career. Our practices were awesome that year, as good as any championship game I’ve been involved in.
In Larry’s autobiography Drive, he has this to say about you: ‘Max was always talking trash…sometimes he’d come into the locker room after an interview and say, “Hey, we’ve got to get serious tonight. I just said something they’re not going to like.”’ It’s my favorite passage in the book because it reveals both the playful and competitive sides of Cedric Maxwell. Do you agree with that assessment?
Yes. I’m a very competitive person, which probably explains why I never picked up golf. If I did play I’d want to be the best and I wouldn’t be satisfied otherwise. Why did I talk trash in certain situations? Because I knew I’d have to back it up. I didn’t want to go out there and look like a fool after saying things to fire up an opponent. It raised the stakes and gave me the edge I needed.
I felt very fortunate to play basketball – at that time, there were a little over 200 players in the NBA and I felt as though I was one of the better players in the league. I wasn’t the biggest or fastest player out there, but I was smart, tenacious and very competitive.
And I wasn’t the only one out there talking trash. Larry was a pretty good talker himself – he was the talker of all talkers [laughs]! We had M.L. Carr…he was always talking trash. Kevin McHale was always talking. So even from that aspect it was a total team effort [laughs]. But you have to remember that these guys could talk and back it up. That’s what made those teams so special.
You’ve never been one to shy away from the big moments. Game 5 of the 1981 NBA Finals and Game 7 of the 1984 Finals jump to mind.
That’s just who I am. Some players step up and embrace those situations and others shy away from them. I’ve never been one to shy away.
Game 7 of the 1984 Finals; Celtics vs. Lakers, Bird vs. Magic. East coast vs. west coast. From a media standpoint it was probably the biggest NBA Finals in league history. Just how big was that game for you?
It was huge. It was the kind of moment I live for, and I knew that I had to step up. Prime time players play big in prime time games – I know that’s become a cliché in this league, but I always looked at myself as that type of player.
Just before that game you told your teammates to jump on your back, that you were going to carry them to the title. Then you went out and played an incredible game. You shut down James Worthy, drew fouls and dominated the boards. What is it about you that lives for these types of situations?
I wish I knew – I also wish I could bottle it up and sell it [laughs]. My mother is a very competitive person, so I think that’s where I got it. Her competitive spirit was passed on to me. I think that helped me rise to the occasion. So my drive – and the ability to elevate my game – comes to me honestly [laughs].
I think my Game 7 performance against the Lakers was so noticeable because I was more laid back than Larry. By that I mean Larry only knew one way to play – he gave 110% all the time. This could occasionally work against him, because when you give 110% there isn’t anything else to give when you need it. He played every moment of every game as if it were his last, and I was more laid back in that respect. I had a little extra to give in that game.
Robert Parish will be inducted into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame this summer. You’re the one responsible for the nickname “Chief”. Please tell me a little about Robert from your perspective, and do you plan on attending his induction ceremony?
I would certainly hope to be there [laughs]. I have a tremendous amount of respect for Robert, and I’m looking forward to his induction into the Hall of Fame. He’s very deserving of the honor, as is Dennis Johnson. In my mind DJ is worthy of inclusion – his accomplishments speak for themselves.
Robert is an extraordinary individual, a unique person who will go down as one of the greatest centers to ever play the game of basketball. He was maligned at Golden State in the ‘70s, but there were a lot of factors responsible for that. He had a bad agent at the time and he was viewed by many as an underachiever. Then Red pulls off the trade with the Warriors, which brought Robert and Kevin to the Celtics. That was one of the greatest trades in the history of sports – or one of the worst, depending on which end you were on [laughs].
Robert was one of the first running centers to come into this league, and certainly one of the first seven-footers to run the court. Dave Cowens was a true running center, but Dave was only 6’-9”. Robert came into the league and showed that players his size could play like thoroughbreds.
When most people think of Robert, they see the quiet, stoic player who didn’t say much and who didn’t change his expression all that often. He was quiet to be sure, but he was also a very confident player who played this game longer than anyone else. His longevity is unbelievable. And he could tell a joke [laughs]. A lot of people don’t realize that about Robert. He was a really funny guy with a very good sense of humor.
I know you’ve been asked this question a million times, but I’ll ask again. How did Robert get his nickname “Chief”?
I pinned that one on him. I saw the Jack Nicholson movie ‘One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest’ and I instantly thought of Robert as Chief Bromden [laughs]. Bromden was this silent, dignified, towering and huge patient committed to the ward visited by Nicholson’s character.
McMurphy?
That’s right. There’s the classic scene where McMurphy is teaching the Chief ‘that old Indian game’ –basketball on a fenced-in court. And he has that great line, ‘It’s called, uh, put the ball in the hole’ [laughs].
I hear that you are a very good chess player. What parallels can you draw between the game of chess and the game of basketball?
Both games require a tremendous amount of thought to be successful. You have to be able to anticipate your opponent’s moves and put yourself in a position to take advantage of that. For example, you might be guarding a player who makes a move on you earlier in the game. You know that move will be coming again, so you prepare for it. You anticipate what he might do next, and when. Then later in the game you counter his move, maybe cut him off on his way to the basket. You’re able to do this because you’ve studied your opponent and you know what his tendency will be in a certain situation.
I’ve read where you’ve produced Broadway-style plays. You’re also an impeccable dresser with a great sense of style. Please tell me about the creative side of Cedric Maxwell.
That’s just how I grew up. My mother was always playing music, and was always helping us to think creatively. She’s a big reason that I got involved in the entertainment business after I finished playing basketball. I produced some gospel musicals and some off Broadway plays back in the Southeast, which was interesting. I started broadcasting college basketball in Charlotte. It was a natural progression to what I’m doing now.
My fashion sense came from my grandfather and my great-grandfather. I like the oversized jackets and pants, so I decided that I could do the designs myself. I work with a tailor in Asia. I send my ideas to him and he creates my suits. It’s grown to the point where I am doing designs for other people as well.
The North Carolina Sports Hall of Fame is home to one of your NBA Championship rings. Which ring is it – 1981 or 1984 – and how hard was it to part with such a special piece of hardware?
It was the 1984 ring, and it really wasn’t that hard to part with. From a purely practical standpoint it wasn’t hard because I don’t wear jewelry. The championship rings are so large and gaudy that I never felt comfortable with it on. On another level, the ring really wasn’t the most important thing to me. You can always lose a ring, but you can’t lose the championship. It was all about the camaraderie that I shared with my teammates and the thrill of knowing that we were the best in the world. All of those things are greater than the ring.
This fall the Celtics will bestow upon you the highest honor – you will have your number retired to the rafters with all the other great Celtics. What does this honor mean to you?
It’s a wonderful honor, and in many ways the highest that can be bestowed on a player. I’ve given some thought as to what I’ll say at the ceremony. My quote will go something like this: ‘Springfield is home to the basketball hall of fame, but the real hall of fame is right here in Boston’. When you think of all the great players to wear a Celtics uniform – Russell, Cousy, Havlicek and Bird to name a few – to have your number retired with theirs is the ultimate honor.
Much has been made of your differences with Red, and how these may have impacted the decision to have your number retired. You’ve since mended fences and put those differences in the past. Will Red be in attendance at your retirement ceremony?
I would hope so! I would not accept this honor without Red’s blessing. We’re on good terms now. We’ve talked about the way my Celtics career ended, and now I’m looking forward to having my number retired.
Was it a big misunderstanding?
It was more like a father and son issue, both of us stubborn and unwilling to give in. It was explained to me that way – the father never goes and apologizes to the son. I was very bitter about the way I was portrayed, because I have a tremendous amount of integrity. I had played hurt for the Celtics organization on many occasions, and there was never a time that I didn’t play hard and try to help the team win. And then I hurt my knee. I learned then that this was all about business, and that I couldn’t take it personally – it was hard to have my desire and integrity questioned, but I had to accept that part of the business and move on.
Written By: Michael D. McClellan | Miracles. Upsets. Hail Marys. Few athletes know what it’s like to do it against all odds, when the opponent on the other side is considered unbeatable and the world decides the outcome before the battle is ever waged. The 1980 US Olympic hockey team is arguably the gold standard – pun intended – but Ed Pinckney’s Villanova Wildcats aren’t far behind. In Pinckney’s case, that singular, awe-inspiring event was the 1985 NCAA Final Four, when Villanova squared off against Big East rival Georgetown with a national championship on the line. The Hoyas were Mike Tyson in his prime. The Wildcats were Evander Holyfield, full of heart but a glorified light-heavyweight by comparison. Nowhere was this size discrepancy more evident than in the post: Georgetown boasted Patrick Ewing, the “Hoya Destroya” who blocked shots as if he was the Second Coming of Bill Russell. Villanova? They had the slender Ed Pinckney, a finesse player who focused on the small details to help his team win games. Once thing was certain: Villanova was going down. And hard.
Nothing in life is certain, however, and on April 1st, 1985, Villanova and Georgetown tipped off with history hanging in the balance. The Wildcats didn’t play the perfect game, but they came as close to it as any team before or since, a feat made all the more remarkable when you consider Georgetown’s blast-furnace defensive pressure. That Villanova somehow won, 66-64, while converting 78.6% of its field goal attempts (22-of-29), including nine of 10 in the second half, still defies imagination. That Pinckney played a major role in the upset shocked only those unfamiliar with his heart and drive.
A graduate of Adlai Stevenson High School, in New York City, Pinckney grew up in the shadow of all those legendary Rucker Park street ballers, while simultaneously flying below most recruiter’s radar screens. Even back then Pinckney’s game was more substance than flash. He wasn’t Bernard King. He was the steady yeomen who thrived in the shadows, doing the grunt work, battling players bigger or more skilled. Against Ewing, he faced both in a singularly destructive package, and his performance proved absolutely crucial in leading Villanova to one of the biggest upsets in NCAA history. No surprise that Pinckney walked away as the Final Four’s Most Outstanding Player.
Pinckney’s hoops story doesn’t end there. The 10th pick in the 1985 NBA Draft, Pinckney would enjoy a 12-year NBA career with seven teams before moving into coaching. That run included parts of five seasons in a Celtics uniform, delivering him to Boston in-between the two most tragic events in franchise history – the deaths of Len Bias and Reggie Lewis. And while he joined the team during a period of decline, he can say he played with the Big Three, arguably the greatest NBA frontline ever. He was also there for that classic Boston-Indiana series in 1991, the one where Larry Bird returned from bouncing his head off of the Boston Garden parquet to outgun a young Chuck Person. Memories to last a lifetime.
“A Celtic for life,” he says with a smile. “I enjoyed everywhere I played in the NBA, but Boston is special. All those championships. All that mystique. Legendary players – some who work a Celtics uniform long before me, and others who I got to call teammates. It doesn’t get any better than that.”
You were a McDonald’s All-American while at Adlai Stevenson High School in the Bronx. Please tell me a little about the basketball culture in New York.
There is a strong basketball culture in New York City, and it begins in the streets. Guys earn reputations on playgrounds and in pickup games, and they want to expand on that by going into different areas of the city. If you’re from Manhattan, you want to go into Brooklyn, the Bronx and Queens. If you’re from the Bronx, you want to play in the other Burroughs to make a name for yourself. I was certainly no different in that respect. I played all over New York, against all types of competition. Growing up I really enjoyed that aspect of playing basketball.
You were the leading scorer on the US team at the 1983 World University Games, where your teammates included Karl Malone, Charles Barkley, Kevin Willis and Johnny Dawkins. What was it like to represent your country in that event?
That tournament was a preliminary to the Olympic Games, so it was a great honor to represent the United States. The guys you mentioned were fantastic to have as teammates, and we’ve kept close ties with each other through the years. We’ve followed each other’s careers and have kept in touch. It was a lot of fun and a great experience, even though we weren’t able to win the gold medal.
The 1985 Final Four – you were a huge part of the greatest upset in NCAA basketball history. Please take me back to Villanova’s 66-64 upset of heavily favored Georgetown University, and the impact that it has had on your life.
It’s something I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. Even though I went on to play twelve seasons in the NBA, that game defined my career as a basketball player. We were the biggest underdogs in the history of the Final Four, and everyone was picking Georgetown to win that game – with the exception of the players and coaches on our team. Every year all of those memories come back. It’s a good feeling to know that you were a part of something so special.
What was it like going up against Patrick Ewing in that situation? What was your strategy for shutting him down?
Remember, you’re not talking about the offensive Ewing that he ultimately became with the New York Knicks. You were far more concerned about him on the defensive end. He was an intimidator, and his presence on the court always gave you something to worry about. Am I going to get my shot blocked? Is he going to throw my shot in the stands? But that isn’t to say that Ewing couldn’t score; there wasn’t much you could do to stop him when he got the ball deep inside. I remember a point in that game when he caught two alley-oop passes. My adrenaline was pumping, and I went up as high as I could on both of those plays. Ewing was still two feet over me! I considered myself a good jumper and a good athlete, so to have him do that tells you what kind of player he was.
Georgetown had lost only two games all season, by a total of three points. What gave your team the confidence that it could pull off the upset?
We were both from the Big East, we’d played Georgetown in the regular season, so there was a certain level of familiarity between the two teams. And even though we didn’t win those games we didn’t get blown out, either. For the most part we held up against Georgetown’s defensive pressure, which was smothering, and except for some breakdowns at the end of those games, we managed to stay competitive.
Our goal in the championship game was to be patient – if we ever got ahead we were going to take our time and try to take the best shot possible. We knew that rushing things would lead to mistakes and play into their hands. Rollie [Massimino, Villanova head coach] talked about that offensive discipline the whole time. “Get the best shot. I don’t care how long it takes. Just get the best shot.” And with no shot clock, that’s exactly what Gary McLain, Dwight Wilbur and Harold Jensen did.
How did it feel to be honored as the Final Four’s Most Outstanding Player, and where does this accomplishment rank in terms of your overall basketball experience?
It’s pretty high up there. When you think of all the schools competing just to get in the tournament, and then to help get your team through it with the win and to be called MVP in the process – that was a great accomplishment, and one of the highest honors I’ve ever received. But to me, being selected in the first round of the NBA Draft ranks higher in terms of personal achievements. It’s a statement that, on that date, I was worthy of being a top 10 selection. To me that’s the highest compliment I could have ever received.
Ewing was Ewing, but I’ve always thought of Michael Graham as one of John Thompson’s most physical and intimidating players. What was it like playing against him?
I don’t think there was a tougher forward at the college level in terms of intensity and raw talent. You never felt you were going to have an easy time when you played against Michael Graham. If all I had to do was score against him my job would have been very difficult, but then I had to turn around and try to stop him on the defensive end of the floor. He was a brutal assignment.
The 1985 NBA Draft was the first to feature the Draft Lottery, and was also one of the deepest ever. In addition to yourself and fellow Big East nemesis Patrick Ewing, the ’85 draft included such talent as Karl Malone, Chris Mullin, Joe Dumars, A.C. Green, Charles Oakley and Arvydas Sabonis. Did you have any idea that Phoenix would take you with the 10th pick overall?
There was some talk about it in the press, but I didn’t speak to the Suns directly in terms of me being drafted by them. I was happy to go there – Jim McCloud was the head coach at the time, and he was very well-respected around the NBA. Alvin Adams was still playing. He showed me what it was like to be a professional, and he was an invaluable source of basketball wisdom. I also had the opportunity to be Larry Nance’s understudy, which was a great, great experience. Larry taught me the importance of taking care of my body. He preached conditioning from my first day of training camp. It was a blessing to be associated with these guys, and I attribute my NBA success to the great base that I was able to establish in Phoenix. The things I learned then were especially valuable later in my career. By knowing how to play the game and how to take care of my body, I was able to play 12 seasons in the NBA, and there aren’t many people who can say that.
The 1986 NBA Draft was the antithesis of your draft class – some even call it cursed. One reason for this was the death of Maryland star Len Bias, who died from a cocaine overdose two days after being selected by the Boston Celtics. Where were you when you heard the news of Bias’ death?
I was back home in New York City. I just remember being shocked. It was so surreal, because I knew Len Bias and we’d just played against each other twice – once in Cole Fieldhouse, and then again in the NCAA tournament. The first game Bias was unstoppable. He scored 30 points on us, tearing us up on the blocks. We won the rematch, which put us into the Elite Eight during our run to the championship. It was a lower scoring game than the first one, 46-43, and a big reason we won was because we were able to contain Bias. That was the key. His death was like the Kennedy assassination – you’ll always remember where you were and what you were doing when you heard about it. It took awhile for the shock to wear off, and then I remember feeling a deep sense of disappointment. Bias was going to be a superstar. To have a tragedy like that happen, you just didn’t want to believe it.
Do you think he would have been the Next Great Celtic?
There was no question – Bias was going to be great. He was a 6’-8” athlete who could do everything on the court. He could run, jump, dunk, defend…he had a great shooting touch from the outside, and he was so strong underneath the basket. In my mind he would have been an All-Star many times over, and could quite possibly still be playing today. With Bias joining Larry Bird, Kevin McHale and Robert Parish, the Celtics were poised to win several more championships. It’s hard to tell how many banners would be hanging from the rafters had he lived.
You arrived in Boston on February 23rd, 1989, as part of a mid-season trade involving Danny Ainge. What do you remember most about your first few weeks in a Celtics uniform?
Just trying to figure out if I was going to stay with the team, and how I was going to convince them that I belonged. Earning the respect of the players was also a huge concern for me. Coming over with Joe Klein, I didn’t know how I was going to gain the respect of the Big Three. My immediate concern was fitting in with them and contributing, which actually go hand-in-hand. I knew that I had a chance of staying with the ball club if I came in and helped them out.
Ironically, Boston played Sacramento just one day before the trade that made you a Celtic, and in that game Robert Parish collected his 10,000th rebound. Please tell me a little about Robert.
Robert was the consummate pro. He was one of the first big men to truly take care of his body, and all of that conditioning certainly paid off for him. Just think about it; to be able to play that many seasons in the NBA is incredible. He was a model of consistency – you could always count on a productive Robert Parish in the lineup, and you didn’t have to worry about him missing a bunch of games due to injury. Chief was also the greatest running big man to ever play the game – nobody his size ran the floor like him for that many years.
His personality was ideally suited to playing alongside Larry Bird and Kevin McHale. Those guys were huge, huge parts of the offense, so having someone like Robert doing all the unsung things helped create the greatest frontline ever. I have so much respect for Chief.
Everyone has a favorite story about the great Red Auerbach. After all these years, which one stands out most in your mind?
I remember my first full season with the team. We won fifty-two games that year, but ended up losing in the first round to the New York Knicks. Coming from Sacramento, where it was a major accomplishment just to win twenty-five games, winning more than fifty games qualified as a pretty successful season. So naturally I thought that we’d accomplished something by simply reaching that mark and making the playoffs.
We had a breakup dinner following that opening round loss to the Knicks, and Red addressed the team. He started off by saying how horrible the season was, and how he wasn’t satisfied with what we’d accomplished. He went on for several minutes, expressing his disappointment. I’ll never forget that, because it showed me that Red used a different stick to measure the success of the Boston Celtics. He was responsible for all of those banners, all those titles, and he measured the team’s success strictly in championships. There are a lot of things that I remember about Red, but that stands out the most.
Parish, McHale and Bird will forever be known as the Big Three. As a post player, what was it like playing with arguably the greatest frontline in NBA history?
Arguably isn’t accurate. Larry, Kevin and Robert are the greatest frontline ever, and I don’t think its even close. I can’t think of another group that combined the talents of these three guys. They were all great individually, but together they were truly greater than the sum of their parts. They meshed so well together, and the chemistry between them was unbelievable.
For me, it was an experience of a lifetime to play with these guys. I learned something new every day. Those who saw them in the games got a taste for how competitive they were, but you really didn’t get the full effect unless you saw them in practice. It was an absolute war. The intensity of those scrimmages was so great, and it made the team better prepared to play in the actual games themselves.
Bird and McHale were always talking trash, always talking about whose team was going to win. Parish was the same way – he had this public persona, and everyone thought he was quiet. Parish wanted to win those scrimmages just as badly as Bird and McHale, and he did his share of talking. He always thought his team was going to come out on top.
The great thing about those scrimmages was that you never had the same team. Bird would take the reserves and try to win with them, and then everyone would rotate. It was unbelievable. Guarding any of those three guys was torture, and you usually came out on the short end of the stick [laughs]. It was a great environment – there was never a dull moment, and I’ve been able to use those lessons to grow as a coach.
In your opinion, who was the most underrated Boston Celtic you ever played with?
It would be between Robert Parish and Dennis Johnson. Everyone had a great appreciation for Larry Bird and, to a lesser degree, Kevin McHale. But Parish and DJ worked in the shadows, so to speak, so in that respect their talents may have been somewhat overlooked. If you take a look at the current Laker team, with Shaq, Kobe, Gary Payton and Karl Malone, you see how difficult it is for four stars to coexist. There is just so much basketball and limelight to go around. And then you look at the Big Three, and those guys were together seven, eight, nine years. That’s unheard of today. When you have that much talent, someone has to not shoot as much. That person has to lower his personal expectations for the better of the team. He has to go out and do his job, let the other guys score the points and grab the headlines. Parish was that person. You couldn’t have that situation today – Parish could have gone anywhere and started. He could have been the one who stirred the cup. So in that respect he’s the most underrated.
DJ was the same in many respects, but he didn’t play with these guys as long. He’d been a star in Seattle, and then in Phoenix, so coming to Boston he had to subjugate his game so that it meshed with Robert, Kevin and Larry. DJ made everything happen – he played incredible defense, he hit clutch shots, and he distributed the basketball. If you look at those types of things, then he would have been the most underrated.
You played in only seven games during the 1992-93 season. For an athlete who had played in 70 or more games per season since turning pro, how hard was it for you not to be on the court and battling with your teammates?
It was extremely difficult. Had I been healthy, I felt that I could have helped that team go deep into the playoffs. We lost to Charlotte that season, but we had a good core of young players. We had Reggie Lewis, Brian Shaw, Joe Klein and myself. Dee Brown was just coming into his own. So is was disappointing not being able to contribute to the turning around of the ball club. It killed me not to be out on the floor with those guys.
The 1992-93 season was notable for three reasons: Larry Bird’s retirement before the season started, the passing of legendary announcer Johnny Most in January, and heart-related death of Reggie Lewis shortly after the season is over. Please touch on each of these individuals, and how the loss of each impacted the Celtic organization.
Lets start with Johnny Most. Teams have labels, people with whom the team is identified. When you talked about the Boston Celtics, you quickly realized that Johnny Most was a huge part of the Celtic Mystique. He was like Chick Hearn in that regard – Hearn was as big a part of the Lakers as anyone, calling all of those games through the years. Most was his counterpart in Boston. He had that gravelly voice, one that you could easily identify with. He let fans know that he was with the team, that he was on their side. The Celtics lost a lot in terms of mystique when he passed away.
I remember Most being a big part of our pre-game ritual. We’d be on the bus, and Most would get into these verbal sparring matches with the players, mostly the Big Three. They would give it to him and he would give it right back – it was a great relationship, because these guys cared deeply about him and vice versa. It was very casual, and it kept the team loose. I never really got into it with him, because I was the new guy and I didn’t have the same comfort zone as the other guys. Johnny Most was a special person.
Losing Reggie was another tragic blow to the Celtics organization. He was the future of the ball club, the person who was going to lead the team after the Big Three called it quits. The Celtics lost a great player, but the city lost a great man. Reggie Lewis did so much for Boston – he’d go around, giving away sneakers to poor children who couldn’t afford a pair of their own. He’d do all of these incredible deeds, – donating his time to summer basketball camps, giving turkey dinners away at Thanksgiving – and yet he shunned the attention because he didn’t want his community work played up in the media. His funeral was a testament to how important Reggie had become to the City of Boston. Thousands of people showed up to pay their respects. It was an unbelievable scene.
Larry’s retirement marked the end of an era – how do you replace one of the greatest players in the history of the NBA? He was the leader of this team for so long, and also its identity. It was a big loss in so many ways.
Reggie Lewis played in 80 regular season games before collapsing in the playoffs against Charlotte on April 29th, 1993. Was there ever any prior indication that something might be wrong?
No, not really. Each team has physicals that the players must go through, and the exams are very thorough. As far as I know, Reggie passed every exam with flying colors. It was an unfortunate event for both him and his family. It was a crushing loss.
As for the team, his death meant that there would be no passing of the torch from Bird to Lewis. I remember being there for Larry’s retirement ceremony. Magic was there. It was just one of those incredible nights that you’ll never forget for as long as you live. It drove home the point that Reggie was the new leader of this team, and that he was the sixth captain in team history. He was going to be the one to take over.
May 5th, 1991: Larry Bird dives to the floor during the second quarter of Game 5 of a playoff series against the Indiana Pacers. He slams his head against the parquet, but returns to finish with 32 points as the Celtics eliminate Indiana 124-121. What was the atmosphere like in that game?
It was crazy – outrageous. Bird was battling with Chuck Person when that happened. There was a lot of jawing in the press and on the court between those two, and Chuck was saying things like he was going to kill Bird in that series. Person was the young gun, and he talked a lot of trash. He said he was going to dethrone the great Larry Bird. Bird welcomed the challenge. In so many words he told Person to bring it. To see Bird step up to the challenge, to come back from being hurt and silence Person like that – to me, it was one of the most intense individual match-ups that I’d ever witnessed.
On March 1, 2004, center Mark Blount became the first Boston player in a decade to score more than 20 points and grab more than 20 rebounds in the same game. The last time that happened was on April 19, 1994 against Milwaukee. The player on that night had 21 points and 22 rebounds. Do you remember who he was?
Yeah, I could kill Mark Blount for ending my streak [laughs]. I was broadcasting a Heat game when that graphic came up on the scoreboard. I know Mark well, so it was great fun. I’m glad that he was able to do it, and I’m happy to see him developing into such a good post player.
Final Question: You’ve achieved great success in your life. If you could offer one piece of advice on life to others, what would that be?
In any situation, just work as hard as you can. Be honest with yourself and with others.
https://i0.wp.com/www.celtic-nation.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/Ed_Pinckney.png?fit=600%2C400&ssl=1400600Michael McClellanhttps://www.celtic-nation.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/celtics-clover-logo2.pngMichael McClellan2018-12-12 23:03:362018-12-13 22:54:21The Ed Pinckney Interview
Written By: Michael D. McClellan | His basketball career began in a Kansas railroad town, and while his legacy will forever be defined by his contributions to Kansas State University – first as an All-American guard with a feathery touch from outside, and then as the school’s athletic director and fund-raiser extraordinaire – Ernie Barrett will also remain deeply woven into the fabric of professional basketball’s greatest franchise. Selected in the first round of the 1951 NBA Draft by Red Auerbach and the Boston Celtics, Barrett’s most important contribution may have come years later, as Auerbach wrestled over whom to select with the Number 4 overall pick in 1970 – New Mexico State big man Sam Lacey, or Florida State’s undersized-but-energetic Dave Cowens. Auerbach respected Barrett’s opinion immensely. He also knew that Barrett, then the K-State athletic director, had seen Lacey in action against the Wildcats. Barrett came away from that contest less than enamored with the Aggies’ 6’-10” center, and he shared his evaluation with Auerbach on the eve of the draft. The Celtics patriarch heeded Barrett’s advice and selected Cowens at Number 4; and while Lacey would go on to play thirteen solid-yet-unspectacular seasons with the Cincinnati Royals, New York Knicks, New Jersey Nets and Cleveland Cavaliers, Cowens would win two NBA championships with Boston and wind up in the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame.
Barrett may have grown up in the shadow of the Great Depression, but the hard times did little to dampen his can-do spirit or quell his outsized personality, gifts that have served him well throughout an illustrious career capped by a statue in his honor and the unofficial title of “Mr. K-State”. His palm-crushing handshake has become both his calling card and the stuff of legend. Years earlier that calling card was his dead-eye shooting, a gift that helped propel a tiny Kansas high school to its only state basketball championship and earn Barrett a scholarship to Kansas State University.
Barrett joined the Wildcats in 1947, the same season legendary coach Jack Gardner – who would later earn the distinction as the only coach to take two schools to the Final Four twice – returned to the helm at K-State. The union proved just the tonic for the once-moribund basketball program, as the Wildcats improved their win total by 10 games and posted a winning season for the first time in sixteen years. By 1951 the circle was complete; K-State toppled mighty Oklahoma State before battling Adolph Rupp’s Kentucky Wildcats in the Final Four title game. UK may have won that game, shutting down K-State with rock-hard defense in the second half, but Barrett capped his dream season in style; the talented senior received All-American honors, and quickly found himself the draft-day property of the Boston Celtics.
Barrett joined a Celtics team boasting a fiery, young coach named Red Auerbach, but the arrival of the great Bill Russell was still several years way. The league was still in its infancy. Fans flocked to the college game, while the NBA struggled to attract a mainstream audience and earn a place alongside baseball and football as one of the country’s major professional sports. Players such as Barrett were vital in this regard; they possessed valuable name recognition, a key component in selling the league to a reluctant public. Auerbach, of course, only cared about winning. He selected Barrett to upgrade a roster that still had plenty of holes, not to help sell more tickets. Winning would take care of that.
Championship banners did not flow like wine until Russell joined the team in 1956, but the pieces were slowly coming together – Bill Sharman was there, sharing the backcourt with a young basketball wizard named Bob Cousy – and Auerbach was always on the prowl for standout players. Barrett certainly fit that bill, but he could not immediately join the team; a military obligation beckoned, and it would be the 1953-54 season before K-State’s favorite son could bring his basketball marksmanship to the Boston Celtics. Auerbach, famous for taking his team on barnstorming exhibitions throughout New England, made liberal use of Barrett’s talents during these games. Sharman, however, saw the lion’s share of the action once the regular season started.
His chances of unseating the future Hall-of-Famer slim, Barrett returned to Kansas following the season determined to begin a career in coaching. The stay would be short-lived, as the NBA adopted the 24-second shot clock following the 1954-55 season. Auerbach, sensing that the change would be a boon to free-wheeling, dead-eye players like Barrett, wasted little time in placing a call to coax the All-American out of retirement. Barrett gladly accepted, playing one more successful season in a Celtics uniform before returning to his beloved K-State for good. (The 1955-56 Boston Celtics averaged a league-high 106 points-per-game, with super-sub Barrett averaging 20.2 minutes-per-game off the bench.)
Barrett’s name is indelibly linked to Kansas State University, his legend there secure. He has been inducted into the K-State Athletic Hall of Fame, both as a player and as an administrator. He has been part and parcel of the university for six decades, first as an All-America basketball player, later as the athletics director and now as fund-raiser extraordinaire. Still, he remains closely connected to the Boston Celtics. He counts Bob Cousy among his closest friends, and his relationship with Auerbach is especially noteworthy. Barrett played alongside Celtic tough man Bob Brannum in his first stint with the team, and then played with “Jungle” Jim Loscutoff two years later. And then there is Dave Cowens. Had Auerbach selected Lacey, those championships in 1974 and 1976 – banners twelve and thirteen on your scorecard – probably wouldn’t have happened at all. Barrett’s advice validated Auerbach’s faith in his one-time sharpshooter, and proved to be the perfect gift indeed.
Celtic Nation would like to thank Ernie Barrett for granting this interview. He is a class act, and deserving of every accolade.
You were born on August 27th, 1929, two months before Black Thursday and the onset of the Great Depression. Please tell me a little about your childhood.
I was born in the small town of Pratt, Kansas. My father was a railroader for the Katy Railroad, which was also known as the Missouri-Kansas-Texas Railroad. We didn’t live in Pratt for very long, because my father’s work moved us around quite a bit during that time. From Pratt we ended up in Blackwell, Oklahoma, which was another small railroad town located just across the Kansas-Oklahoma border. Then, just about as quickly, he went to work for the Santa Fe Railroad in Wellington, Kansas. So I spent most of my childhood growing up in Wellington. I went to high school there, played basketball there, and still think of it as home.
You were an All-State basketball star at Wellington High School. What memories of that experience have stayed with you through the years?
We won the state championship in 1947, which is still the last time a team from Wellington has won a state title in basketball. That ’47 Wellington squad had plenty of talent, fine players like Harold Rogers who went on to play for coach [Henry] Iba at Oklahoma State University. Our coach was John Floyd, and I credit him with all of my success as a basketball player. He was the person who taught me the fundamentals, and the one who really helped me to improve my shooting. I was a 6’-1” center in high school – that should tell you about the height we had on that team – and I went on to play guard at Kansas State. I probably wouldn’t have made it as a college player if Coach Floyd hadn’t worked with me on my outside shooting. Even back then you just didn’t find many 6’-1” centers playing major college basketball [laughs]. K-State had a 6’-5” guard that first year I was on the team, and the Boston Celtics had players like Bob Donham who were bigger than me. So learning to play away from the basket was a tremendous help, and Coach Floyd was the person who had the most to do with that development.
You captained the 1950-51 team that opened one of America’s most spectacular basketball arenas — fabled Ahearn Fieldhouse. Please tell me a little about the atmosphere in that arena, and also compare it to where you played professional basketball – the fabled Boston Garden.
When Ahearn Fieldhouse opened on December 9th, 1950, it was the second largest facility of its kind behind Jenison Fieldhouse on the Michigan State campus. It was a multipurpose facility, designed for basketball and other sports such as indoor track, volleyball and various intramurals. It had an original seating capacity of 11,700, but there were always 12,500 fans packed into the stands for our home games [laughs]. Every game was a sellout. It was extremely noisy, which gave us a great homecourt advantage.
It’s hard to compare Ahearn to the Boston Garden, or to any NBA stadium for that matter. NBA arenas like the Boston Garden were entertainment facilities. They were built to accommodate anything from basketball games to ice shows to music concerts. So it was hard to match the excitement that you’d find in a true basketball stadium like Ahearn Fieldhouse.
You earned All-America honors for that 1950-51 season. What did this award mean to you then, and what does it mean to you now?
I was the captain of that team, and the success that we had during my senior season had a lot to do with my being honored as an All-American. It meant a lot to be selected, but we had five or six guys who scored in double-figures. It was truly a team effort. And while we had a great season, a lot of what we accomplished was overshadowed by the 1951 point-shaving scandal.
Do you have any direct memories of the scandal?
I remember going up against Long Island University. LIU was a powerhouse, and had players like Ray Felix and Sherman White on the team. Felix was a 6’-11” center who would go on to play in the NBA. White was a 6’-8” All-American, and The Sporting News Player of the Year. LIU was favored by eleven points, but the game was much closer than that. I vividly remember coming down the court and hearing [LIU head coach] Clair Bee screaming at his players to play better, and warning them that they were going to throw the game away by playing so poorly. He didn’t know the fix was on, of course, only that his team was playing horribly.
LIU could have won the national championship that year, but White, LeRoy Smith and [Adolph] Bigos were arrested for taking bribes to throw games. LIU dropped its basketball program and Bee retired from coaching, so those things definitely stand out. But it was still a great season for me, and for K-State. We finished second in the nation, Ahearn Fieldhouse opened during the regular season, and I was named to the All-American team. It was a thrill for me to be recognized, and it’s still an honor after all of these years.
Kansas State finished the 1950-51 season with a 25-4 record and advanced all the way to the NCAA championship game under legendary head coach Jack Gardner. What was this experience like for you?
Unfortunately I injured my shoulder against Oklahoma State in the West Regional Final in Kansas City – there were only two Regionals then – and wasn’t able to play to my fullest against Kentucky. We beat BYU 64-54 in the semifinals and then defeated Oklahoma State to advance to the championship game. It was the worst defeat Coach Iba had ever suffered at Oklahoma State. I took a charge in that game and ended up with a deep muscle bruise. We were going to shoot it up with Novocain but Coach Gardner was against it – he thought it might be injurious to my health, and he didn’t want to cause any long-term damage to the shoulder.
Kentucky was coached by Adolph Rupp, and they had some really great players on that team. They had Bill Spivey, who scored 22 points in that game, and a couple of other pretty good players in Cliff Hagan and Frank Ramsey. We jumped out to an early lead and were up by two at the half, 29-27, but couldn’t hold them off after intermission. Kentucky dominated the boards and won the game by ten [68-58].
Future Celtic great Frank Ramsey was a member of that 1951 Kentucky championship team. What can you tell me about Mr. Ramsey?
Kentucky was a senior-laden team, so Frank didn’t get to play much in that game. He did score something like nine points for them, though, so he was productive when he was on the court. I remember him being very quick, and very aggressive. He joined the Boston Celtics the year after I finished playing there, but we have remained friends through the years. We used to visit, and still correspond by letter.
You were named the Most Valuable Player at the East/West All-Star game in Chicago following your senior year at Kansas State. What stands out most about this game, and how did it feel to be recognized in such a way?
I had the good fortune of being coached by legendary Kansas coach Phog Allen in that game, and that’s one of my biggest memories. Phog was an unbelievable motivator. I remember that he hardly worked with us prior to that game, and that he was constantly feuding with the media. It was all a part of his plan to bring out the best in us. We were from the western United States, and he used that as motivation because we were playing the game a pretty good ways from home. He treated it as if it were a home game for the East.
We had a great squad. Mel Hutchins of BYU was on that team, and so was Don Sunderlage of Illinois. Hutchins was a first round pick for Tri-Cities Blackhawks. Sunderlage was drafted in the first round by Philadelphia. Both men were fine players. I finished with 17 points in that game and was leading scorer, so it really helped raise my profile in the pros. Chuck Cooper, the first black player to be drafted in the NBA, recommended me to Red Auerbach after that game.
You were drafted in the first round by the Boston Celtics in 1951. What was it like coming to Boston, and what was it like to play for Red Auerbach?
It was a great honor to be the first round selection of the Boston Celtics. I had a two-year military obligation, so I didn’t get to play for them immediately. I had to wait until I was out of the service to go to Boston, so my “rookie” year was actually two years later (1953-54). Red started me every game during the exhibition season, opposite Bob Cousy, for what amounted to 15-20 games over a three week period. We basically barnstormed all over New England.
Things changed once the regular season started. I didn’t get into a single game during the first 35 games, at which point [Celtic owner] Walter Brown went to Red and wanted to know why I wasn’t playing. He [Brown] looked at me as the team’s first round selection in 1951 and figured I should be seeing some action. Needless to say, I was on Walter Brown’s side [laughs]. So I ended up playing more during the second half of the season, sharing time with the great Bill Sharman.
Bob Brannum was a teammate during your first season with the Boston Celtics, in 1953-54. Mr. Brannum grew up in Winfield, Kansas, which is roughly 25 miles from Wellington. What can you tell me about Mr. Brannum?
Bob was a hard-nosed player who gave it everything he had. He wasn’t the best shooter on the court, but he worked hard and he didn’t take any grief from anyone. He had a twin brother named Clarence, who played at K-State and was drafted by Tri-Cities in the third round of the 1950 NBA Draft. Both men were built the same, and both were offered scholarships to play at the University of Kentucky. Bob went to Kentucky, but Clarence got homesick and ended up coming home.
I got to know Clarence, and you really couldn’t tell the two of them apart. During my rookie year I thought I’d pull a joke on Ed Macauley and Bob [Cousy]. We were playing a game in St. Louis, so I arranged for Clarence to drive down. I was going to have him show up, and then put him in uniform and have him pretend to be Bob. Well, when Clarence showed up he had a big pot belly – needless to say, the joke didn’t pan out [laughs].
You did not play for the Celtics during the 1954-55 season. Please tell me about this period in your life.
I wanted to play – I’m a competitor. Red could tell you about the fights [laughs]. After my rookie season I went back to K-State and took a job, but after one season away the NBA instituted the 24-second shot clock. Red thought that this change suited my style of play, so he asked me to come back. I said that I would, but only if I got a chance to play. Red was true to his word – I played in every game that season. I really wanted to stay on, but the next season the Celtics got Heinsohn and Russell. Tex Winter was the head coach at K-State at the time, and he offered me a position as assistant coach. I jumped at the opportunity, and went to work at my alma mater.
Coach Auerbach approached me after I went back to Kansas, and said that he was interested in the University of South Carolina job, which was open at the time. Red and I had a great relationship, and I had the good fortune to work with him while I was young. He had great people skills. He really knew how to treat people and how to work with them, which is what made him such a great coach. Red offered me an assistant coaching position if he decided to take the South Carolina job, but he ended up staying in Boston. That was in the 1954-54 timeframe. It might have happened, had he accepted, but I stayed on at K-State. It proved to be the right decision for me – I became assistant athletic director in 1961, and was named athletic director in 1969.
When you returned for the 1955-56, Jim Loscutoff had replaced Mr. Brannum as the team’s enforcer. Please tell me about Mr. Loscutoff.
They were practically identical on the court – they both had the same hardnosed style, and both of them were very aggressive players. Jim was a better shooter than Bob, and that’s probably what set him apart. He was a small forward in those days, and handicapped because a lot of the taller players blocked his shots. Wilt Chamberlain comes to mind. But he was cantankerous and didn’t back down from anyone, Wilt included. So nobody pushed him around on the court [laughs]. And he could run. He never stopped running. Jim and I are good friends – we saw a lot of each other in Boston after I retired – we’d go to the Final Four together, and get together whenever we could.
Brawls were commonplace in the NBA when you played. One that comes to mind is the fight between Bob Cousy and Philadelphia Warriors center Neil Johnston in the Boston Garden. Were you ever a part of the festivities?
I wasn’t involved in the Philly brawl, but I was involved in fights with Rochester and Fort Wayne. Fred Schaus, who later coached Purdue University, checked off on me one night because his coach wanted him to guard the little man. We went at each other pretty good, and he said to me, “Hell, you’re not very little.” I got in a fight that night with one of the Fort Wayne guards, and official Sid Borgia called a technical and threw me out of the game. There were always fights in games back then. You knew they were going to happen. Red always said, “Listen, just make sure you get the first punch in.” [Laughs].
Please tell me about Mr. Cousy.
There’s so much to say that you could probably write a book on him and not cover it all. Bob was my roommate, and he was an unbelievable player. He’s one of the rare players from that era who could play in the NBA today. To show you how times have changed, he was the highest paid player in the NBA in those days and his yearly salary may not have been $20,000. Red always told us to keep our eye on the ball when Bob was on the floor. I made that mistake once during an exhibition game in Bangor. I took my eye off the ball for just an instant and Bob hit me in the face with a perfect pass. [Laughs].
The two of you have remained very close through the years. Do you have a funny story that you would care to share?
There are so many! We went to Philly for a road game, and we’re rooming together. I’m asleep in my hotel room and Bob is out on the town. The phone rings, wakes me up. It’s him. He says, “Rook, what are you doing?” I say, “Sleeping!” Then Bob says, “Get out of bed and come get me.” I say, “This is Philadelphia. How do I know where you are?” Then Bob looks at the flashing signpost on the corner and says, “I’m at the corner of Walk and Don’t Walk!” [Laughs].
Bill Sharman is legendary for his free throw shooting. What kind of player was Mr. Sharman?
Bill is another outstanding individual. We used to play one-on-one after practice, and we had some real knockdowns. I always accused him of taking an extra step during those games, but he always responded with “It’s legal in this league.” [Laughs]. Bill was very quick, and a great athlete – he was an outstanding baseball player. Red worked a lot of screens for him, so that he could get off those jumpers and set shots. And he was the best free throw shooter in the NBA.
The 1955-56 Boston Celtics led the league in scoring with a 106 ppg average. Bob Cousy, Bill Sharman and Ed Macauley finish 6th, 7th and 8th in the league in scoring, respectively. Please take me back to that season, and tell me a little about Mr. Macauley.
Ed was an outstanding player as well. I played against him in college, and that’s when I realized how good a shooter he was. He was tall, but he didn’t weigh much, so he wasn’t very physical. He wasn’t a strong rebounder. Red worked him into the fast break, which took advantage of his speed and his ability to run the court.
Red Auerbach was a disciple of George Washington’s Bill Reinhart, and firmly believed in an attacking, up-tempo style of basketball – a philosophy also embraced by your college coach, Jack Gardner. Please compare and contrast this coaching giants.
Coach Auerbach amazed me with the way he handled the players, and with how he was able to keep them all happy and ready to play. He knew which players responded well to the screaming, and he knew which ones to motivate in a more subtle way. There really is no comparison between Red and anyone else. He was extremely intelligent, a real genius.
Coach Gardner – and Tex Winter, for that matter – were truly instrumental in instilling me with discipline, and for preparing me for the level of play that I needed in Boston. I can’t say enough about either of these men. Coach Gardner loved the up-tempo game. He was an astute coach, and he knew how to attack.
The Boston Celtics held the fourth overall selection in the 1970 NBA Draft. Legend has it that Red Auerbach was set to select Sam Lacey, the 6’-10” center from New Mexico State, but that Red called you at the last minute to get your opinion. The Celtics then selected Dave Cowens, who would go on to become one of the NBA’s 50 Greatest players. Did you play a role in changing Red’s mind?
That’s exactly how it happened. I saw Sam Lacey, so I knew what he was capable of – not to say that he couldn’t play, but I just thought Cowens had much better mobility and could shoot the ball better. Red was leaning toward choosing Lacey, and he called to ask who I thought was the better player. To me, Cowens was a perfect fit in the Celtics’ system. He could get up and down the court, and he could run all day long. And he was intense. Red took my advice, and it worked out well for everyone involved.
Final Question: You’ve achieved great success in your life. If you could offer one piece of advice on life to others, what would that be?
Success is determined by personality, loyalty, and dedication. Anyone who adheres to these positives will be successful.
By: Michael D. McClellan | I knew that Paul Westphal was special long before I ever had the pleasure of speaking with him about his basketball successes, of which there are many. The year was 1989, and I caught a television news report that the Phoenix Suns were going to retire Westphal’s jersey to their ‘Ring of Honor’. Westphal, of course, played his first three NBA seasons with the Boston Celtics, winning a championship in 1974 while studiously preparing to crack Team Green’s starting lineup. I’d always admired Westphal – or Westy, as he is affectionately known to legions of fans – so I decided to keep tabs on his special day, knowing full-well that his number 44 would have been raised to the Boston Garden rafters had he remained a Celtic.
At some point following the retirement ceremony, I learned that Jerry Colangelo, the Suns’ longtime owner, had offered to lavish Westphal with gifts befitting his newly-minted status of Official Phoenix Suns Legend. Westphal graciously declined, asking Colangelo to instead donate money to start an education fund with the Christian Family Care Agency, in the name of Armin Westphal, his late father. That stuck with me. In a world run amok with athletes who’ve lost touch with reality, Westphal was a clean and refreshing breath of fresh air.
Flash-forward to September 11th, 2003. I have a date to interview Westphal, but I’m not sure whether he’ll remember my name or that we’re supposed to talk. He’s a busy man (at that point the head basketball coach at Pepperdine University), and fresh off an extended recruiting trip in Europe. My fears are allayed moments later, as Westphal points out that he’s been expecting me. He is kind, courteous, and unpretentious – all of the things that I’d imagined him to be – and I find myself enraptured as he recounts his brief-but-eventful tenure with the Celtics. I listen to him and I get the sense that he is genuinely enthused to be doing this interview – even though he’s done countless others before. Our conversation ranges from his childhood in Redondo Beach, California, to matching wits with Phil Jackson and Michael Jordan in the NBA Finals. Through it all, Westphal remains both spontaneous and upbeat, and one gets the sense that, deep down, Westy is still a Celtic at heart.
Please tell me a little about your childhood during the 1950s, and how you first became interested in playing basketball.
I grew up playing basketball at a very early age, and I was fortunate to have an older brother who played ball with me in the backyard. At the time I was a little guy who just wanted to join in the fun, and I would cry if I didn’t get to play [laughs].My brother and my father both taught me a great deal about the game. I often found myself playing against older kids, which meant that they were usually bigger and stronger, and I benefited greatly from those experiences. It certainly furthered my development as a basketball player, both from a fundamentals standpoint and a confidence standpoint. My dribbling and ball handling skills improved tremendously.
You graduated from Aviation High in 1968, averaging 32.5 points-per-game as senior. Take me back to Redondo Beach during this point in your life.
Redondo Beach was pretty much a bubble, and in many respects we really weren’t affected by the turbulence of the times. It was a great place to grow up. There was no tension in our neighborhood, and you could go outside and play without fear. It was a great childhood – I rode my bike everywhere, played baseball, you name it. My father was an aeronautical engineer, and very much devoted to his family. We had a comfortable lifestyle. We weren’t rich by any means, but we didn’t have to scratch, either. It wasn’t a hard existence. We had everything we needed, really. Basketball allowed me to travel quite a bit, and somewhere during this period I gained a reputation for being a pretty good player. I was just as comfortable going up against the inner-city kids from Compton as I was the competition in Redondo Beach. I took great pride in my ability to excel in these environments.
The 1960s was known for many things – Vietnam, JFK, Martin Luther King, the Beatles. It was also the decade of dominance for the Boston Celtics. Being a Lakers fan, did you follow the Boston Celtics?
Oh yes, I was very much aware of the Celtics’ accomplishments, as well as the intense rivalry that existed between the two teams. For his part, Chick Hearn put Laker basketball on the map. By listening to him I gained a true appreciation for those battles between the Lakers and Celtics. I knew about the great Bill Russell and the legendary Red Auerbach and all of those great teams, and I’m proud to have been a part of that storied tradition. Even though I played in Boston for just three seasons – and never started a game [laughs] – I still consider myself a Boston Celtic. There are still people today – especially those who followed the game closely at that time – who still associate me with the Celtic organization. An interesting side note: My connection to the Celtics actually goes back further than my playing career. I can say that I was there the night Bob Cousy played his last game.
How did you manage that?
I was on an all-star team in junior high. We would travel and play exhibitions, and one of our games happened to coincide with Cousy’s farewell. We played at halftime in the original Boston Garden, and I remember how special that occasion was…I have nothing but fond memories of that event.
You were a three-time All-Pacific 8 Conference performer and a two-time All-American at USC, which is the same school attended by former Celtic great Bill Sharman.
I was very familiar with Bill’s career, both as a player and as a coach. He was also a great baseball player, and had major league potential. He was know for his great free throw shooting during his playing career. He was also way ahead of his time in terms of fitness and nutrition, and was the first coach to introduce the game day shoot-around. It was an honor to be follow in his footsteps at USC. He enjoyed success on so many levels, winning championships as a player with the Celtics and later as coach of the Lakers. He was a beloved figure, in a way that reminds me of John Wooden.
As a college player at USC, you went up against Wooden’s UCLA Bruins. Did Wooden influence your coaching in any way?
Yes, Coach Wooden has been a tremendous influence on me. In my opinion he is the greatest collegiate basketball coach the game has ever known, and I also feel that Red Auerbach holds the same distinction at the professional level. And although I didn’t play for either of them, I certainly feel that I’ve studied under both of these great men. They are so different and yet so very much the same. Both were obviously influenced by their environments, with Coach Wooden living out west and Red being born and raised in New York. But at the core, both have so much in common, especially basketball-wise. Both understand the importance of playing unselfish, team-oriented basketball, and both have that rare ability to cut directly to what matters most in a given situation.
You were selected in the first round of the 1972 NBA Draft (10th pick overall) by the Boston Celtics. Take me back to that draft. How has it changed since that special day in 1972?
The NBA Draft has changed dramatically since 1972. The most obvious and visible transformation is television and the Internet; today’s draft is a feature event with extensive media coverage on multiple platforms, whereas in’72 it might be covered by radio, the evening news, or page seven of the next day’s newspaper. It just wasn’t such a big production back then. Another difference is the immediacy of today’s draft. I didn’t realize who drafted me until Mary Wayland, who was Red’s secretary at the time, called to tell me that I’d been chosen by the Celtics. Back then, players received telegrams letting them know which team had chosen them. My telegram was delivered to the wrong destination – Southern California College instead of USC – so I didn’t actually receive mine until two days later [laughs].
What was your draft experience like?
As for the draft itself, I had absolutely no idea where I’d end up being taken. I’d injured my knee during my senior year at USC and missed the second half of the season, and that made it difficult to figure out where I’d go. I felt that I could have been anywhere from the top two or three players selected to not being drafted at all. Because of my knee, the Celtics took a big chance on me. they had no idea whether it would be sound enough to withstand the rigors of NBA basketball, and that made their selection somewhat of a gamble.
Today it can take an NBA player up to three days just to pass a physical. Why? Because the monetary concerns dictate that teams be much more thorough when it comes to a player’s health. When I played, I took my physical a full ten minutes before the first practice [laughs]. There was a doctor on a stool in the locker room, and his examination wasn’t much more than a simple turn-of-the-head-and-cough.
You joined the Celtics in the fall of 1972. please take me back to your first NBA training camp.
I remember playing outdoors, on asphalt – that stands out in my mind because of my knee. We practiced at Camp Millbrook and at the Massachusetts Maritime Academy. Red wasn’t the coach but he was always there. We would practice defense for an hour in the mornings, and then follow that with an hour-long scrimmage. The afternoon session was focused primarily on the offense, so we’d run through our offensive sets for an hour and then go straight into another scrimmage. It was hard. There were times when we’d practice to the point of exhaustion. The Celtics had a great system in place for bringing along young players. The coaching staff didn’t yell at the young guys, so they weren’t scared or afraid to make a mistake. It was a very educational experience, and one that was helpful in my development as a professional basketball player.
The Celtics won 68 games during your rookie season, still a team record. Was it a bittersweet accomplishment, given that the team lost in the conference finals to the Knicks?
This was one of the times when I felt that the best team in the NBA didn’t win the championship. We had a phenomenal year, but Havlicek was hurt and couldn’t raise his arm above his shoulder. He just wasn’t himself. It was a very disappointing series. It was one of those series where nothing seemed to go right for us. I remember the ref making a horrible call on a lob pass that I caught in midair. When I caught the ball I was going to shoot it, but it just didn’t feel right in my hands. I decided to come down with the ball and then go back up, but the referee called traveling on the play. That call cost us possession of the basketball. The whole series seemed to be like that.
Dave Cowens was named the league MVP following the 1972-73 season. Please tell me what you remember most about Dave’s play that year.
[Pause]. What can I say? There is so much, but if I had to pick one thing it would be the intensity that Dave brought to the court. The look in his eyes is something that I can’t find words to adequately describe. You had to see that look for yourself to know what I’m talking about. It was scary. He was so focused on the game. It didn’t matter whether it was ripping down a big rebound or diving for a loose ball. Dave and Paul [Silas] were quite a combination on the boards.
Tom Heinsohn was your coach while with the Celtics. Do you see any of Tom’s traits in your own coaching?
I hope so. Tommy is such a special person – not to mention my first professional coach. He had more success and received more criticism than anyone I’ve ever known, and much of this had to do with him following in Red’s footsteps as the head coach of the Boston Celtics. When Tommy was winning a lot of people assumed that Red was coaching behind the scenes. It was unfair, and very much a sore spot with him.
Tommy was an intense competitor, both as a player and a coach, and at times he felt he could win by the sheer force of his will. It was easy to see how much he cared about the Celtics. He played as hard as anybody, and he coached the same way.
He was eventually replaced on the bench by another former Celtic great, Satch Sanders. You were in Phoenix by then, but do you have any thoughts on what prompted the change?
Tommy regarded the Boston Celtic organization as a part of his family, and as with any family there are going to be problems. In Tommy’s case, several of his players were also former teammates. This familiarity became a negative in terms of undermining his authority – you would see players roll there eyes when he was trying to make a point – and over time this may have taken its toll.
The legendary Red Auerbach – everyone has a story. Do you have one in particular that stands out?
One story? Anyone who has ever played for Red has heard his stories at least three times, and the ones that have been around him for years, like John Havlicek and Nellie, have heard each one at least 50 times [laughs].
Seriously, there is no exaggerating how good Red was when it came to basketball. The man was a true genius. He built the Celtics into champions three different times and is responsible for all sixteen banners. You don’t do that by accident. A lot of his critics like to say that Bill Russell was the reason for Red’s success, but I don’t agree with that assessment. Red understood that you had to be lucky – the trade that landed Russell is a perfect example – but he also made the most out of the opportunities that came his way. So to say that Russell was the sole reason for his success isn’t a valid argument. He had a gift. He won before Russell, and he won after Russell was gone.
There is another misconception about Red – that he was hard to play for. In fact it was quite the opposite. When people think of Red they tend to think of him screaming his head off, but Red really didn’t scream at his players. He saved all of that for the poor referees [laughs]. He was a great teacher, and he knew how to treat his players. He supported them.
When I was with the Celtics, Red would somehow always make his way over to me and share something he noticed during a game. Maybe something was wrong with my shot, or the way I dribbled or defended. Whatever the case, Red would always seem to join me at adjoining urinal as I waited for a shower, and he would tell me one thing that I needed to work on during the next practice. I learned so much from him during my career with the Celtics.
You’ve said that Elgin Baylor is the player you most admired. I grew up a short distance from Jerry West’s hometown – did you follow Jerry when he played for the Lakers?
Absolutely. I admired Jerry, and early on people often compared the two of us. I guess part of it was because we were both white, but our games were quite dissimilar prior to my knee injury. Jerry was a guard in the classic sense – he had that beautiful, pure jump shot – whereas I was more apt to drive to the basket. So from a physical standpoint I had a resemblance to Jerry, but from an aesthetic standpoint I more closely resembled Elgin Baylor. And to a large degree I modeled my game after Baylor. He had that one-legged jumper, which became a part of my game, and he drove the basketball much more than Jerry did. I emulated him. I would go into the paint and create, sometimes throwing up those crazy shots like Baylor [laughs]. After the knee injury I altered my style of play somewhat, becoming more of the traditional perimeter player like Jerry.
Your second season with the Celtics brought with it an NBA Championship – the team’s first without the great Bill Russell. Please tell me about that memorable Game 6 in the Finals against the Milwaukee Bucks.
Kareem hit the skyhook from the corner as time ran out. I remember it well because it happened right in front of me; I was watching from the bench [laughs]! The whole series was memorable, and for a number of reasons. The home team clearly didn’t have an advantage, and I believe that was because of the incredible adjustments made by both coaches. That series was one of the best examples of counter-punching I’ve ever seen. To win it, to beat Oscar Robertson and Kareem for the title…that was just a special feeling. Incredible. And I was so young that I thought it would always be like that [laughs].
Game 7 was played in Milwaukee. What was the mood of the team going into such a pressure-packed road game?
We were confident going back to Milwaukee because home-court advantage clearly didn’t apply in this series. We knew that we were going to be fine. We just went into that game and let it rip, and when it was over we were the world champions.
You were traded to the Phoenix Suns following the 1974-75 season, your third in the league, and not because the Celtics had given up on you. That was the farthest from the truth – the Celtics, in fact, felt you were on the verge of very big things in the league. Please explain the mechanics behind the trade, and what it was like to change organizations so early in your career.
The trade hit me by surprise, quite frankly. The Celtics hadn’t dealt a player in nearly ten years, which was understandable given their success, so for them to trade anyone from their roster was something of a shock. I just assumed that I was a part of the Celtics’ future plans.
Back then the NBA Players Association sponsored an annual off-season trip to Rio, and I was actually on my way there when I learned the news. I found out during a layover in New York. Red’s secretary got hold of me and told me that I’d been traded to Phoenix for Charlie Scott. It took some time for it to sink in, but it didn’t take long to realized how much the Suns thought about me. It was very flattering to be traded for an established NBA star like Charlie, who’d been a 25 point-per-game scorer with Phoenix, especially when I’d played three seasons with the Celtics and hadn’t started a game. I assumed that I’d finally be starting for the Celtics in my fourth year, but it turned out that I was starting for the Suns instead.
The biggest adjustment was from going to a perennial championship contender to a team near the bottom of the standings. This wasn’t something that I was accustomed to, but we were able to turn things around in a relatively short timeframe.
The trade with Phoenix took on additional significance when the Celtics and Suns squared off during the 1976 NBA Finals. What did it feel like, facing your former teammates with a championship at stake?
There was a great deal of familiarity there. I’d been a Boston Celtic for three seasons, so there really wasn’t fear on my part in terms of playing against the Celtics or facing the Celtic mystique. We knew how good we were, and that we could play on a championship level. It was different being in the visitor’s locker room after spending so much time on the other side.
Game 5 is forever immortalized because of its triple-overtime drama, and has been dubbed “The Greatest Game Ever”. You played a large role in that series. Please take me back and share some of the memories that still stand out.
There are so many memories from that game, which makes it very hard to pick one thing. When I look back I think about all of the little things that we could have done differently to win that game. I suppose that’s the coach in me. There’s nothing you can do to change the outcome – that’s basketball – but it still hurt to lose that game and the series as well. As time has passed, I’ve come to realize what a privilege and an honor it was to be a part of something that special, regardless of which side you were on. That’s the thing that stands out most now, and the losing pales in comparison to the bigger picture of what we accomplished in that series.
In many ways you bring to mind another famous Celtic – Don Nelson. Both of you have excelled as players and coaches. Please tell me about your former teammate.
Don Nelson taught me a great deal – to me, the man is the personification of genius. He’s one of the most innovative, successful coaches the league has ever known. He has taken his share of hits over the years, in large part because he is so innovative and unafraid to take chances, but in my mind he is one of the greatest coaches in the league.
As a player he wasn’t the most talented, but he made up for any lack of talent with great desire. He was a true competitor. He worked and developed that mid-range shot, which was his primary weapon, and used it to great advantage. Another thing about Don Nelson; when I joined the Celtics he used to butter me up, pay me a lot of compliments. He’d tell me he was going to throw me the ball during games, but I didn’t realize that he was working me, that he was really making sure that I’d pass him the ball so that he could shoot [laughs]!
Don was a smart player, and he kept things simple on the court. You loved having him as a teammate, because everything he did was done within the context of helping the team to win.
Which did you enjoy the most – playing or coaching in the NBA Finals?
Playing. There is no substitute for playing for a world championship. Coaching, of course, was the next-best thing.
Paul Silas and Charles Barkley – you played with one and coached the other. Please compare these two great rebounders.
Paul Silas was completely dedicated and very single-minded in terms of what he was on the court to do; rebound and play defense. He did both with a zeal that made him one of the great power forwards in the league. He was such a hard worker. He never took a night off.
Charles was a much more gifted player, and because of that his focus wasn’t as narrow. He could rebound and play defense as well as anyone in the league, but he was also a scorer and a pretty good passer. He didn’t live to play defense the way that Paul did, either. I think that was just part of being Charles Barkley. He was so good that at times the game seemed too easy for him. That’s where the humorous side of his personality would take over. There were times when he’d clown on the court, and I think that was partly because he was so much better than most of the players on the court. I have as much affection for Charles Barkley as I do for anyone I’ve ever been associated with.
In your first season as an NBA coach, your Phoenix Suns won a franchise-record 62 games. In the process you broke Bill Russell’s NBA record for victories by a rookie coach. Where does this accomplishment rank?
I don’t really look at coaching records as a personal accomplishment, so I really don’t pay much attention to these types of things. Coaching records are the result of the players you have and not really anything that you bring to the table. And to me, looking at a record isn’t the best and most effective way to judge the success of a coach. There have been years when I haven’t had success in terms of wins and losses, and yet I feel that I’ve done some of my best coaching.
During the 1994-95 season, you became the second-fastest NBA head coach to win 150 games, accomplishing the feat in 208 games, just five games shy of the all-time mark held by Phil Jackson. What was it like to match wits with Phil on basketball’s biggest stage?
It was a magical year. We played the Chicago Bulls for the NBA Championship, we had two NBA Most Valuable Players on the court in Michael Jordan and Charles Barkley, and the spotlight was so big for that series.
Final Question: You’ve achieved great success in your life. If you could offer one piece of advice on life to others, what would that be?
Bill Russell was once asked about winning, and how hard it was to keep coming back year-after-year to do it again when the entire league was gunning to take you down. Bill responded by saying that there is no ultimate victory. You win, and you have to come back and try to do it again. Basketball has been a huge part of my life, and it has given me so much in this world. It is a large part of who I am. The important thing for me is to keep it all in perspective. I would trade it all away rather than lose touch with what matters most – God and family. So my advice would be to remember that there is no ultimate victory in this life, and that you have to find out what really matters most – and that true success occurs only after you establish a solid relationship with God.
https://i0.wp.com/www.celtic-nation.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/Paul_Westphal2.png?fit=600%2C400&ssl=1400600Michael McClellanhttps://www.celtic-nation.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/celtics-clover-logo2.pngMichael McClellan2018-12-12 01:54:462018-12-12 01:58:13The Paul Westphal Interview
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