The Ed Macauley Interview
By:
Michael D. McClellan
|
Tuesday, November 1st,
2005
On March
6, 1953, you scored a career-high 46 points against George Mikan, easily the
most dominant big man of his era. How hard was it to match up against a
player so physically imposing?
We
didn't win because we didn't have any size on the club. I was 6'8", 185
pounds, and we're playing against Harry Gallatin with the Knicks – he
outweighed me by fifty pounds. We're playing against George Mikan, who was
6'10". I always had good games against George. He couldn't stop me and I
couldn't stop him. Those 46 points were the highest point total of my
career.
We weren't big – we had Bob Harris and Bob Brannum at the corners. They weren't great scorers. Brannum was 6'5", and he was strong, but Harris was built like me. So guys like Brannum and Harris really had their work cut out for them – they were matching up against guys that were taller or heavier, and they did a hell of a job. We played games with the best ballplayers we had. We just didn't have the talent that the Knickerbockers had on its roster, or the talent that Philadelphia had, or even the talent that Syracuse had from top-to-bottom. We had great scorers, but we just didn't have rebounding. We didn't have great defense. As a result, we never won the Eastern Division. A lot of people looking at our team would marvel that we won as much as we did. It took the outstanding scoring of Cooz and Sharman and myself to stay competitive. If we had dropped just one of those three people we would have really been in trouble. I always kid Red Auerbach – whenever I see him, I ask him how come he waited for Bill Russell to starting winning all of those championships [laughs].
The
Boston Celtics conducted annual preseason barnstorming tours throughout New
England, often playing up to 17 games in twenty-one days, all against the
same opponent. What were these trips like, and do you have an amusing story
or a fond memory that you would like to share?
We'd
travel and we'd play the town teams, which was always very dangerous because
they wanted to break your leg or rough you up [laughs]. We'd travel by car,
and everybody fought not to be in Auerbach's car because he drove like a
maniac. It was very, very taxing. You'd play a game at night, go back to
the hotel and get some sleep, and then drive 60-to-100 miles the next day
and do it all over again. And like I said, we were playing against some
town teams, too. They were playing against the pros, so they wanted to make
a name for themselves. This was their big chance – 'Gee, if I break
Macauley's leg that'll be great, we might win.'
The Celtics were doing it just to make a few bucks. Many of the teams were not only in trouble, many of the teams also went broke. Chicago, for example. St. Louis. As far as the players were concerned, we wanted to play basketball. And if that was part of it, you just did it. Even the guys who weren't making great money were making more than some of the guys that they went to school with. They were certainly having more fun than someone sitting in an office, or someone working as a carpenter. It was the same thing that the baseball people went through fifty or sixty years ago. You just barnstormed and picked up a few bucks along the way. Now it's completely different. It's ridiculous now – players have their own valet and everything else [laughs].
In 1956,
you were a part of the biggest trade in NBA history, going to the St. Louis
Hawks in a deal that allowed Red Auerbach to draft Bill Russell. Not many
people realize this, but you could have actually voided the trade. Instead,
you opted to move back home and help care for your son, Pat, who was ill at
the time. Please take me back to this period in your life.
The
year before that transaction, my wife Jackie, my daughter Mary Ann, and my
son Patrick were in Boston. I played a Sunday afternoon game and came home,
and Jackie said that there was something wrong with Patrick. He had a
terrible fever. We took him to Boston Children's Hospital, one of the best
in the country, and handed him over to the doctors. We waited and waited
and waited. When the doctors came back, they told us that Patrick had
spinal meningitis. We said, 'What's that?' They told us that it was very
serious. It's a disease that carries a high fever, and depending on how
long the fever lasts will determine what happens. Unfortunately for
Patrick, it lasted long and it was high, and it destroyed his brain. He was
a cerebral palsy boy, and he died when he was thirteen.
So I was back home in St. Louis, and I didn't know what I was going to do. We didn't have the financial resources that people have today, so I didn't even know if I could even come back to Boston. About that time, Walter called and said that there was a deal pending, and that if it goes through, the Celtics will get Bill Russell and that I would go to St. Louis. But he also said that he didn't want to make the deal. He said that he couldn't imagine the Celtics without me. We were that close. But I said, 'Walter, I don't even know if I'll be able to come back to Boston because our son's situation.' It wasn't a case of having unlimited finances, to where we could hop on an airplane as a family and have a nurse come along with us. Jackie would have had to stay home and care for Patrick while I was in training camp, and while I was away on the road. So I called Walter and asked him to do me a favor and do the deal – which he did. Then he said, 'Well, you haven't signed your contract for next year, do you want to sign it now?' I said no, because I thought I'd best work out a new deal with [Hawks owner] Ben Kerner. I did okay on the deal, but in those days I didn't know Ben Kerner as well as I knew Walter [laughs].
That's the way it happened. But if I said that I wanted to come back to Boston, I sincerely believe that that might not have prevented Auerbach from getting Russell. Auerbach was a great judge of talent, and a great negotiator, as was Ben Kerner, so there may have been another way to get Russell. In that particular situation it worked out well for everybody. Very clean.
The Hawks
won the championship following the 1957-58 season, your second with the
team. After nine hugely successful seasons in the NBA, what was it like to
win a championship for your hometown fans?
There
are two or three things about sports. You can ask every player the
following question: Aside from the money and the hoopla, what do you want
most? I think most would say that they want a world championship ring,
because that's what you play for. That's what you think about when you're
growing up. The second thing would be induction into the hall of fame. To
me those are the two things that stand out above the rest. One of them –
induction into the hall of fame – you have some control over. The other – a
world championship – is something that you really don't have individual
control over. So you can be the greatest basketball player in the world,
and you're not going to win a world title unless you have great men around
you. Wilt Chamberlain is a prime example; I don't consider him the greatest
player ever, but he was still one of the best. Wilt didn't win a title
until Alex Hannum started coaching the Philadelphia ball club.
And when you look at championship rings, you could fill a book with the number of great players who have never won an NBA championship, or a World Series title, or a Super Bowl ring. So, as a member of a team that wins a title, you could be the tenth man on the team, but you've got something. You've got that ring that is prized by everybody in the sport. And as I've just said, some fantastic ballplayers have never won a championship. And yet you're the tenth man on the championship team and you've got a ring. Everybody wants one. So, to win that championship was very special to me. And to win it in for the fans in St. Louis, that was an unbelievable experience. Something I'll never forget.