The Gene Conley Interview
Written By: Michael D. McClellan | The sports world is buzzing on February 7, 1994, when Michael Jordan—who retires from basketball four months earlier at the height of his career—signs a contract to play minor league baseball for the Chicago White Sox. The announcement generates a flurry of attention for a two-sport athlete from another era, a winner of 88 Major League Baseball games and three NBA championships, a man who throws heat and blocks shots and wins rings and plays alongside 17 future Hall of Famers. It’s a renaissance he doesn’t see coming—the greatest baller in history decides to take up baseball, and his phone blows up—but he doesn’t seem to mind. The unexpected string of interviews breathes new life into a career that includes 11 seasons in the majors and six in the NBA.
“It was nonstop for a couple of weeks,” says Gene Conley of the attention generated by MJ’s foray into baseball. “I thought people had forgotten about me a long time ago.”
For the uninitiated, Gene Conley is the only athlete to win both a World Series title and an NBA championship and the only man on the planet who can call both Hank Aaron and Bill Russell teammates. He can say he’s struck out Ted Williams in a Major League All-Star Game, shattered Billy Martin’s jaw with a punch, and held Wilt Chamberlain to 19 points while nursing a hangover.
“Gene was larger than life,” says former Celtics teammate Gene Guarilia. “He might not have been the best player on the team, but nobody had better stories.”
Mixing two professional sports with two-fisted drinking, Conley is Bo Jackson before Bo, with a little George Jones thrown in for good measure. As a pitcher for the Red Sox, he gives up eight runs in two-plus innings against New York in Yankee Stadium. When the team bus becomes mired in New York City traffic on the way to the airport, Conley and teammate Pumpsie Green step off to find a restroom, only to discover the bus gone when they return. Left to their own devices, Conley and Green start drinking heavily. Green eventually sobers up and contritely returns to the team, but Conley continues his binge for several days, eventually surfacing at Idlewild Airport (later JFK) and purchasing a ticket bound for Jerusalem. He’s denied access to the flight because he has no valid passport. The incident generates front page headlines and is famously dubbed Conley’s “Intentional Walk” by the press.
As an incoming student at Washington State, the 6-foot-8 Conley is coaxed into a car by three University of Idaho students in the middle of the night, driven from the campus barracks to Moscow, Idaho, where he is asked to shoot baskets the next morning. A man Conley believes is the Idaho football coach tries to talk him out of going to WSU and instead transferring to Idaho, offering him a car and money from a slot machine operation. Conley is able to call his father, who threatens to involve the police if Conley’s abductors don’t drive him back to WSU. The incident ends up going public, and Idaho is fined for tampering.
“As hard as it is to believe, that actually happened,” Conley says with a laugh.
As a major league pitcher, Conley wins a World Series ring with the Milwaukee Braves and then turns around and wins three championships as a member of those dynastic Boston Celtic teams anchored by Russell, all while drinking any eager taker under the table. Conley later bets his hometown drinking buddies five bucks each that he can hold Chamberlain under 20 points when his new team, the New York Knicks, play Wilt’s San Francisco Warriors. Chamberlain, averaging nearly 45 points at the time, only scores 19. Conley’s buddies never pay up.
Selected to play alongside Musial in that ’55 Midsummer Classic, Conley takes the mound in the 12th inning and pitches the National League to victory, fanning future Hall of Famer Al Kaline, two-time batting champ Mickey Vernon, and two-time RBI champ Al Rosen.
“I was the winning pitcher, but Stan Musial hits the home run and is the hero of the game!”
Born in Muskogee, Oklahoma, at the onset of the Great Depression, Conley becomes a Knothole Gang member of the Class D Muskogee Reds, going to games with his father and watching players like Stan Musial move through the minor league. He has no way of knowing that he’ll later team with Musial to win the 1955 All-Star Game.
Conley’s journey to the NBA and MLB begins when his father finds work in Richland, Washington. At Columbia High School, Conley grows to 6-foot-8 by his senior year, lettering in baseball, basketball, and track. He shows so much basketball promise that Adolph Rupp wants him at Kentucky. Slats Gill wants him at Oregon State. Hank Iba makes overtures. He decides to join his older brother at Washington State University, where a wealthy alum offers to provide an automobile and pay for his expenses, infractions that go undetected and unpunished.
Conley captains the freshman basketball team and shows flashes of the skill that later lands him in the NBA. A year later, he excels as a baseball player, representing the Northwest in the 1949 Hearst All-Star Game, which pits all-stars from the Greater New York area against the top players from the rest of the country. Conley is named the United States All-Stars captain for the game, which is played at the Polo Grounds, where he is the winning pitcher. During the spring of 1950, Conley is a starter on a WSU baseball team that finishes 32–6 and is runner-up for the national championship. He pitches in 16 games during WSU’s run to the College World Series, winning five (with two shutouts), saving two more, and averaging .417 at the plate.
“I was the starting center during my sophomore year at Washington State, and I led the PAC-8 Northern Division in scoring that season,” Conley says. “George Yardley was the leading scorer who later played in the NBA and ended up in the Hall of Fame. I also played baseball as a sophomore with a guy named Ted Tappe. Ted and I both signed major league contracts right after the national tournament in Omaha, Nebraska. He signed with the Cincinnati Reds, and I signed with the Boston Braves.
“I really didn’t give professional sports a thought,” Conley says. “I’d played some semi-pro baseball for the Walla Walla Bears when I was 18. A lot of scouts attended those games because there were some terrific ballplayers out there, which really helped my development as a pitcher, and that’s when they really started watching me.”
Conley pauses. He smiles. “Actually, I was doing all of this illegally because I was going to school on scholarship and picking up 35 bucks a game for playing semi-pro ball. The guy who sponsored it owned a jewelry store, and he would pay me under the table.”
The scouts continue to follow Conley’s exploits at WSU, their interest peaking following that run to the College World Series.
“I had offers from Detroit, the Yankees, and several other teams. I wasn’t very interested in playing pro baseball at first, but then I realized that I didn’t enjoy college all that much, either [laughs]. I talked to my father about it, and he thought I’d be better off signing with the Boston Braves because Johnny Sain and Warren Spahn were past their primes and I’d have a better chance of making the team.”
The Braves assign Conley to their Class A team at Hartford of the Eastern League for 1951. His debut season is lights out—20 wins, a 2.16 ERA, and a strikeout-to-walk ratio well over 3-to-1. He’s honored as the league’s Most Valuable Player and is named Minor League Player of the Year by The Sporting News.
It’s in the Eastern League that Conley crosses paths with future Celtics great Bill Sharman, who later recommends him to Red Auerbach. The Celtics take Conley with the 90th overall pick in the 1952 NBA Draft.
“Bill Sharman is a great man and a great friend,” Conley says. “He played a big part in my getting a chance to try out with the Celtics. He went to Red and told him I could play basketball, and that I could help the team. Red trusted Bill’s opinion—back then that’s how a lot of basketball decisions were made. Red hadn’t seen me play, but he trusted Bill, and that was good enough for him.”
Conley’s rapid development means his stay in the Eastern League is short-lived. The Braves promote him to the major leagues as the fourth starter in 1952, but after three dismal starts, he’s reassigned to the team’s top farm club in Milwaukee.
“I think they moved me into the major leagues too quickly. I was barely 21 when I took the mound against the Brooklyn Dodgers. They had Jackie Robinson, Pee Wee Reese, and Lou Campanella. I did okay, but I was so nervous that I wasn’t pitching up to my potential. They sent me back down to the minor leagues. I won 23 games in AAA, which proved that I was good enough to eventually play in the big leagues.”
Money is tight, so Conley decides to try out for the Celtics when the baseball season ends. Surprisingly, Braves general manager John Quinn grants him permission to play. Conley lives in the Lenox Hotel during the season, one floor below his coach.
“My first season with the team I didn’t play that much,” Conley says, “but I always had a good relationship with Red. My family was back in Milwaukee, and the kids were in school, and I stayed at the Lenox. I didn’t have a car. I used to ride with Red to the practices every day, or to the Boston Garden when we played a game. Sometimes we’d pick up Walter Brown. I’d sit in the back seat, and we’d talk about everything, so I got to know them both well.”
The Celtics reach the ’53 NBA Playoffs but are eliminated in the second round. By then, Conley has already reported for spring training.
“The Celtics were good that year, but we weren’t going to win a championship, so Auerbach agreed to cut me loose so that I could return to baseball. It was a nice gesture on his part. That was the end of my basketball career, until about six years later.”
Back on the mound, Conley ends up being assigned to the Braves’ top farm team in Toledo. He starts fast but breaks down late in the season, sidelined by a balky back. Still, he wins 23 games and is named the American Association’s Most Valuable Player and, for the second time, The Sporting News selects him as its Minor League Player of the Year.
“It was the first time a player won that award more than once,” he says proudly, “but the back injury put me in a Toledo hospital. The doctors fitted me with a brace. I was supposed to wear it for six weeks, but I threw it away two weeks later and skipped town without completing the physical therapy. I wanted to make it back to Boston in time for training camp. I had a mortgage to pay and mouths to feed.”
Conley is on the verge of signing with the Celtics when Quinn intervenes and matches Auerbach’s offer. Conley instead spends the winter rehabbing in Toledo and recovers in time for spring training. His stuff is good enough to make the Braves’ ’54 Opening Day roster, joining a pitching staff headlined by Warren Spahn. Conley responds by winning 14 games and finishing third in the National League Rookie of the Year balloting. He’s also selected to play in the 1954 All-Star Game. On August 31, Conley throws a complete-game, three-hit shutout against Brooklyn, beating Don Newcombe 2–0. He fans Duke Snider three times and coaxes the legendary Jackie Robinson into 0-for-3.
“If Jackie didn’t get a hit, he’d work you for a walk, or get his elbow in the way of a pitch, anything to get on base,” Conley says. “He was a tough competitor.”
Braves management again discourages Conley from playing basketball when the baseball season ends, but Conley heads off to the Celtics’ training camp anyway. He easily makes the roster. This time, he shocks the Celtics by leaving the team on the eve of the season opener. It’s a decision that doesn’t sit well with Auerbach, who demands loyalty and famously holds grudges.
“I was going to play for the Celtics in ’54, but the Braves stopped me. They thought I might get hurt. I tried to convince them that I could keep my legs in shape by playing for the Celtics. The Braves countered by offering more money not to join up with Boston that fall. I asked them how much—it was $5,000, so I said, ‘You know, maybe I should stick to baseball.’ I was kind of dirtying up on the Celtics, to tell you the truth. But in those days you had to play the game. I had kids to feed. Besides, management played the game, too.”
A year later he finds himself in that ’55 All-Star Game, fanning Kaline, Vernon, and Al Rosen. That Conley is even able to take the mound is a testament to his toughness; after starting the season 8–3, he injures his rotator cuff throwing against Philadelphia. He doesn’t win again after the All-Star Game and is eventually shut down for the rest of the season. The injury plagues him the rest of his career and requires more than 100 cortisone injections.
“I was hard on my body,” Conley says. “I played hard and drank hard. After a while, the punishment takes its toll.”
His shoulder still aching, Conley starts the 1956 season on the disabled list. He returns for the first time, in a relief appearance, on May 28. He’s used sparingly by new Braves manager Fred Haney over the remainder of the season, winning eight games as Milwaukee finishes in second place, one game behind the Dodgers.
The following season, Conley alternates between starting and the bullpen. The Braves catch fire at the right time, winning the National League pennant before beating the Yankees in the World Series.
“I didn’t start off bad during the ’57 season, but I just wasn’t winning games,” Conley says. “And then I get hot in July and win five or six big games down the stretch. I felt like I had really played a part in helping the Braves win the pennant, especially in a rotation that included guys like Warren Spahn, Lew Burdette, and Bob Buhl. Spahn won 21 games that season. To this day I tell people that I’ve never seen another pitcher accomplish what Burdette did during that World Series and not get the notoriety that he deserved. He pitched three complete games against the New York Yankees, two of them at Yankee Stadium, and he won all three games—including Game 7 to win the World Series. I celebrated a little too much and had a hangover for a week.”
Conley’s shoulder is still bothering him when training camp opens in 1958, and when he takes the mound, it’s as a reliever. Frustrated with his role, he continues drinking heavily, a cycle that puts him at odds with Haney. Finishing the season with an 0–6 record doesn’t help. When the Braves return to the World Series, again against the Yankees, Conley doesn’t make it onto the field.
Despondent, a cash-strapped Gene Conley decides to give basketball another try. He calls Auerbach, but the Celtics have added Bill Russell and Tom Heinsohn to its frontline, resulting in two consecutive trips to the NBA Finals and the team’s first championship banner. Then there are the hard feelings that linger from Conley bailing on the Celtics in ’54.
“Red hadn’t forgotten,” Conley says with a laugh. “Boy, he let me know about it.”
Luckily for Conley, championships trump old grudges. Auerbach agrees to a tryout, with stipulations.
“I got on the phone, and I called Red. He said, ‘Gene, you haven’t been playing. You’ve been playing baseball. We’ve still got Cousy and Sharman. We’ve got Bill Russell and Sam Jones. We’ve got Tommy Heinsohn. We’ve got All-Americans. I don’t think you have a chance, but I’ll pay your way to Boston. If you don’t make the team, you’ve got to figure out your own way home.’ Somehow I made the team.”
Conley rejoins a Celtics team fresh off two straight trips to the NBA Finals. He knows that Russell is something special, but now he gets to see him up close.
“The Celtics were the class of the league after Russell came aboard,” Conley says. “He revolutionized the center position. He wasn’t a great shooter, but he was the best defender to ever play the game. I got along really well with Russell. People considered me as his backup. That was probably the case on paper, but there were a lot of times that we were on the court together. Sometimes I’d be out there in the middle, and that would free him up a little bit.”
The NBA is evolving, but Conley still gets into his share of fights.
“I think a lot of the NBA players resented a baseball player coming in and playing professional basketball in their league,” he says. “These guys had played basketball in college, and many of them had been All-Americans, and then here comes this baseball player trying to play their sport. Some guys thought I was trying to show off, but I had three kids by then, and I desperately needed the money. I didn’t have a chip on my shoulder, but I definitely felt that they were picking on me a little bit. Consequently, I had to put my fists up against a few of them.”
The Celtics roll through the 1958–59 regular season en route to the NBA title, making Conley the only professional athlete to win championships in two major sports.
“I was excited, believe me. We easily swept the Minneapolis Lakers in the Finals. They had Elgin Baylor and a few other good players, but George Mikan had retired, and Wilt was still in college. Playing Syracuse in the Eastern Division Finals was more challenging than playing the Lakers. They had Dolph Schayes, Hal Greer, Johnny Kerr, and Al Bianchi. It took us seven games to beat them. As a matter of fact, I think Russell fouled out of Game 7, and I had to finish it out.”
On March 31, 1959, the Braves trade their towering pitcher, along with infielders Joe Koppe and Harry Hanebrink, to the Philadelphia Phillies for catcher Stan Lopata and shortstops Ted Kazanski and Johnny O’Brien. The move is prompted, in part, by Conley’s nagging injuries, but the bigger reason is his refusal to give up basketball.
Conley goes 12–7 for the 1959 Phillies, making his first appearance near the end of April, just a few short weeks after the Celtics’ title run. He begins the season as a reliever but is soon moved into the starting rotation, finishing with those 12 wins for the last-place Phillies. He is picked by his former manager, Fred Haney, for the 1959 All-Star Game in Los Angeles, where he pitches two perfect innings that includes strikeouts of Ted Williams and Yogi Berra.
“Not many people can say that they struck out Ted Williams and Yogi Berra in the same game,” says Conley.
His last win comes on August 19, a three-hitter against the Cubs. In the third inning, Conley is hit on the pitching hand while batting against Glen Hobbie. Amazingly, he pitches the rest of the game with a fracture, allowing only a single over the last six innings. It’s not the only break involving Conley; earlier in the season, he broke Billy Martin’s jaw.
“I was playing for the Phillies and pitching a game in Cincinnati,” he says, smiling. “The opposing pitcher threw a couple of pitches inside and hit me with one. We had a fiery manager, Gene Mauch. I started down to first base. All of a sudden, I saw Mauch running past me as fast as he could, going after the pitcher for hitting me. Well, I ran out there, and here comes Billy Martin. Boy, I let him have it. I smacked him a good one.”
After the season Conley signs two contracts, one with the Phillies and another with the Celtics, and wastes little time shifting back into basketball mode. Boston, with Conley in the fold, finishes 59–16 and tops the Hawks 4–3 in the 1960 NBA Finals.
“We had to go through the Philadelphia Warriors with Chamberlain and that bunch, just to face the St. Louis Hawks in the Finals. They had Bob Pettit and Cliff Hagan. They were very good players, but we had Russell. That’s the difference between good and great.”
A second NBA championship in hand, Conley joins the Phillies for spring training. He stumbles to an 8–14 record with a 3.68 ERA. The Phillies offer him $20,000 to skip basketball the next winter and focus on baseball. Conley refuses and rejoins the Celtics when the baseball season ends. The Phillies have had enough. On December 15, 1960, they trade Conley to the Boston Red Sox.
“It was the biggest trade in baseball,” he says with a wink, “because I was 6-foot-8 and Frank Sullivan was 6-foot-7. Trades don’t get much bigger than that.”
Conley suddenly finds himself playing two professional sports in the same city. The 1960–61 Celtics capture a third straight NBA championship, with Conley a key contributor. He is especially valuable helping Russell guard Chamberlain in the Eastern Division Finals.
“It was a challenge getting past Wilt, but Russell was Russell,” Conley says. “We faced Pettit and the Hawks in the NBA Finals again. Personally, I played really well in that series, much better than I did during my first trip to the Finals. But if I had to choose, getting that first championship in ’59 was really special. I felt like a rookie that year, because I hadn’t played basketball since ’52.”
Nine days after winning a third NBA championship, Conley takes the mound and pitches the Red Sox to victory, becoming the only athlete to ever play for both the Celtics and Red Sox.
“That makes me the answer to another trivia question,” he says, laughing. “People often ask me about that, but most of the time they want to hear about me playing with Hank Aaron and Bill Russell.
“When I broke into the big leagues with Aaron in 1954, we were both just a couple of wide-eyed rookies trying to make a living doing something that we loved. He used to come over to the house, but the fact that we knew each other was nothing special. We were both making just $6,000 a year. We were just teammates trying to make the big leagues and win games. We knew who Warren Spahn was, of course. But even Spahn was down-to-earth, like anybody else.”
Auerbach decides to leave Conley unprotected in the NBA’s 1961 Expansion Draft, and Conley finds himself selected by the Chicago Packers. He chooses not to report, intending to take the winter off. Instead, he signs with the Washington Tapers of the fledgling American Basketball League.
“I didn’t want to leave the Celtics, but Red was gearing up to go in another direction. I could make some extra money playing for the Tapers while waiting for baseball season to start.”
Conley wins a career-high 15 games for the Red Sox in 1962, but the wins are overshadowed by the now infamous “Intentional Walk.”
“I honestly don’t know why I did it,” Conley says of the incident for which he’s most known. “Alcohol is a demon that’s hard to explain.”
Conley drinks heavily as far back as he can remember. He’s able to function for the most part, performing well even when hungover from too much alcohol the night before, and only those who know him best are aware of his drinking problems. The “Intentional Walk” changes all of that.
“It was national news,” he says. “There was nowhere to hide.”
The Red Sox fine Green $1,000 for his disappearance. Conley is suspended without pay, fined $2,000, and out an additional $2,000 for the plane ticket. He addresses the media and expresses his remorse, and the Red Sox decide to give him a second chance, allowing him to return to finish the season. He posts a 15–14 record with a 3.95 ERA.
“Tom Yawkey was the owner of the Boston Red Sox at the time, and I’ll never forget his understanding and kindness. He called me into his office and said, ‘Gene, we would all like to do what you did, but we can’t. I’m going to fine you $2,000, but if you stay in line for the rest of the year, I’ll give it back.’ I did, and he did. It’s a good thing because I really needed the money.”
Before the 1962 baseball season ends, Conley’s NBA rights are traded to the New York Knicks. He signs on and plays center for what turns out to be the NBA’s worst team, averaging a career-high 9 points and competing against his good friend Russell in the Garden.
“I wasn’t in real good shape,” Conley says, smiling. “I ask Russell if he’ll take it easy on me, and he says, ‘I’ve got to do it to you.’ I take my first shot, and Russell blocks it. Then he alters my next two shots, so I say to myself, ‘The heck with this.’ Gene Shue passes me the ball way outside, and I let it fly. It hits nothing but net. I just looked at Russell and said, ‘Bill, I’ve got to do it to you.’ He grinned from ear-to-ear. We still laugh about that. Russell is a sweetheart.”
Released by the Red Sox during spring training in 1964, Conley signs with the Cleveland Indians for a dollar and is assigned to the Indians’ minor league team in Burlington, North Carolina. Conley pitches in only two games and decides that he’s had enough. He retires from baseball, gives his life over to Jesus Christ, and has his last drink in 1966.
“I always tell people that I was the luckiest athlete alive because I had a job to go to—baseball—and then I could follow that up by playing another sport that I really loved. How can you beat that? I was very fortunate. I played 13 seasons and went six and a half years going from one sport to the next. And if you think about it, I didn’t have a college education to fall back on, so I had to keep playing until I ran out of juice.”
All of which makes Conley’s story worth the price of admission.
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