He was Bo before Bo, a two-sport phenom who won championships with arguably two of the greatest athletes of the twentieth century, first as a World Series pitcher for the Milwaukee Braves, and then as a center on a dynastic Boston Celtic team loaded with hall-of-fame talent.  His championship double remains the rarest feat in sports, never duplicated, a watershed achievement that only grows more unattainable in this modern day age of specialization.  Still, Gene Conley takes it all in stride, deflecting the significance of his title-winning double-feature, choosing instead to place the focus on a combination of fortuitous circumstance and teammates nonpareil.  His humble demeanor belies a man, who, in 1955, took the mound in the 12^th inning of baseball’s Midsummer Classic and pitched the National League to victory.  Conley, unlike so many of today’s self-absorbed athletes, is able to put his substantial achievements – the World Series ring, the All-Star game triumph, the three basketball championships with the Boston Celtics – squarely into perspective.  Imagine Terrell Owens trying to coexist with Hank Aaron or Bill Russell.  One can only imagine Owens’ shameless, over-the-top self-promotion, if, like Conley, he were to climb the championship summit of not one, but two American sporting institutions.  Conley, thankfully, is not Terrell Owens.  He is a class act in every sense of the word, a gentleman who understands just how fortunate he has been to compete with some of the world’s greatest athletes.

Born in Muskogee, Oklahoma during the onset of the Great Depression, Conley faced down his hardscrabble existence by taking his first paying job at age ten.  He worked behind the counter of a local soda shop, doing whatever the shopkeeper demanded of him, pulling pennies on the hour while dreaming of the sports that would one day make him famous.  He also found a tangible athletic outlet, gravitating to the local YMCA, involving himself in just about every program the facility had to offer.  It was a great escape from the Conley family’s economic hardships.  He ran.  He swam. He learned to love sports in a way that most of us today will never comprehend.  For Conley, competing meant forgetting, momentarily at least, the cruel realities of a bankrupt nation.  He could step onto the baseball diamond and imagine himself in a World Series, staring down a great batter with the game on the line.  Back then, that’s all there was; sports, hopes, and dreams.  It would be decades before the arrival of twenty-four hour satellite feeds synchronized with the point-and-click of the Internet, all with 500 channels being beamed down to a landscape of high-definition TVs.  Video games?  X Games?  M-TV?  Conley’s world was far simpler than the splintered kaleidoscope facing America’s youth today.  He simply played ball.  And he dreamed.

By his early teens, Conley had moved on from working in the soda shop to doing landscaping and lawn work.  His father found work in Richland, Washington, leaving ahead of the family to lay down roots and provide a place for them to live.  It took twelve months to make the move; by then Conley was starting high school and playing sports every day.  He wasn’t a remarkable athlete early on, not by any stretch of the imagination, just a big kid with a taste for competition, but all of that changed by the end of his senior season.  So good a basketball player was Conley that a veritable who’s-who of college coaching expressed interest.  Adolph Rupp wanted him at Kentucky.  Slats Gill wanted him at Oregon State.  Hank Iba made overtures.  Legendary coaches from legendary programs.  Conley, all 6’-8” of him, listened to all of the offers and then decided to follow his heart, joining his older brother as a student at Washington State University.

Ineligible for the varsity as a freshman – back then, athletes had to wait a year before competing at that level – Conley emerged as a sophomore sensation, first starring in basketball and then pitching WSU into the College World Series.  A second-place finish was more than anyone expected, and the best in school history.  Conley, named to the All-American team for his stellar play, was suddenly a two-sport star and a red hot baseball prospect.  He signed a professional contract to play in the Boston Braves farm system, leaving college two years early to pursue his dream of making it to the bigs, landing in the Eastern League and facing a certain hitter who would later play a pivotal role in Conley becoming a Boston Celtic. 

“Bill Sharman is a great man, and a great friend,” Conley says, still thankful for the hall-of-fame guard’s recommendation.  “He went to Red [Auerbach] and told him I could play basketball.  He thought I could come in and help the team.  Red trusted Bill’s opinion – back then that’s how a lot of the basketball decisions were made, because you didn’t have all of the technology and all of the scouts that teams have today.  Red hadn’t seen me play, but he knew Bill.  And that was good enough for him.”

Conley’s stay in the Eastern League would prove short-lived; Boston would move him up to AAA for the 1952 and 1953 seasons, and Conley would respond by twice being named minor league player-of-the-year.  It was during the 1952 season that Conley caught Sharman’s attention, prompting the Celtics to offer the 6’9” fastballer a roster spot. He would play in 39 games for the Celtics during the 1952-53 NBA regular season, teaming with future hall-of-famers Sharman, “Easy” Ed Macauley, and Bob Cousy.

In 1954, Conley’s call up to the major leagues turned dream into reality.  He responded by winning 14 games for the Braves – now playing in Milwaukee – and finishing second in NL Rookie of the Year balloting.  He was also selected to play in the 1954 All-Star Game.  Basketball, however, was discouraged my Braves management; the team didn’t want to risk fatigue and injury on such a promising young player, and Conley obliged by focusing solely on baseball.  A year later he found himself in the 1955 All-Star Game, a twelve inning affair and only the second Midsummer Classic to go into extra innings.  Conley calmly took the mound and struck out Al Kaline, Mickey Vernon, and Al Rosen in the top of the 12th.  Moments later, Stan Musial homered for the National League, making Conley the winning pitcher.