By: Michael D. McClellan | Red Auerbach has a decision to make. It’s the spring of ’69, and the architect of the Celtics’ championship run faces a post-Russell rebuild, a dreaded day thirteen years in the making. The heavy lifting starts with the first selection in the 1969 NBA Draft. Get it right, and the rebuild moves along ahead of schedule. Botch it, and who knows how long it takes to recover. The Milwaukee Bucks win a coin toss, land the top pick, and draft Lew Alcindor—later known as Kareem Abdul-Jabbar—the only surefire, can’t-miss prospect in an otherwise underwhelming draft. Auerbach and the Celtics, by virtue of winning the ’69 NBA Championship, draft ninth. They watch as guys like Terry Driscoll and Bob Portman and Larry Cannon Smith are selected, players who will barely make a mark in a league suddenly competing with the upstart ABA for talent. Auerbach doesn’t want any of them. He has his eye on a sweet-shooting point guard from Kansas, a player perfectly suited to the Celtics’ up-tempo attack. What he needs is a little luck. He needs the teams picking in front of him to whiff, to chase big men like Neal Walk, who goes on to have a solid NBA career but who can’t possibly serve as the cornerstone of an NBA champion.
And whiff they do.
One after another, teams picking in front of Boston ignore the Jayhawk All-American. The Phoenix Suns select Florida’s Walk with the second pick, point guard Lucius Allen goes next to the Seattle SuperSonics, and then a run on shooting guards and big men begins. When it’s the Celtics’ turn, Kansas guard Jo Jo White is still on the board.
In fairness, the teams drafting ahead of the Celtics know that White has the talent to be a game changer. It’s his two-year military obligation that causes trepidation. Auerbach has no such qualms. He’s prepared to wait for a player of White’s caliber. When White ends up in the Marine Reserve program a few months later instead, the draft day gamble looks like another Auerbach masterstroke.
“Red wasn’t afraid to take risks,” White says with a smile. “If he were, then the Celtics wouldn’t have ended up with Bill Russell or Larry Bird.”
White, who grows up playing multiple sports in St. Louis, is a gifted all-around athlete. Both the Dallas Cowboys and the Cincinnati Reds burn draft picks on him.
“Sports taught me teamwork, discipline, and commitment. They also brought our community closer together. Everyone in the neighborhood played whatever sport was in season.”
White plays high school ball first at Vashon and then at McKinley, and by graduation he receives more than 250 scholarship offers. Oddly, the University of Missouri is not among them. He instead chooses Kansas University, where he becomes a three-time All-Big Eight Conference selection and is twice voted All-American.
“I visited Lawrence on a recruiting trip and got to see Gale Sayers play,” White says. “I was in awe of him, and watching him perform was something I’ll never forget. Kansas was the right fit for me. I wanted to go to a school where my parents could see me play, and where I could get back home when I needed. Kansas was within that radius. The basketball tradition was rich, and yet the school had never had an All-American guard to graduate from KU. That became a big goal for me.”
Because freshman aren’t allowed to play varsity, White has to wait until the second semester of his sophomore year to become eligible. The coach is Ted Owens, who helms the Jayhawks for 19 seasons, is named National Coach of the Year, and leads two teams to the Final Four. Owens’s program is struggling when White arrives, but his presence on the court helps jumpstart the rebirth of Jayhawk basketball.
“I was very excited because I wanted to play as soon as I became eligible, but nervous because the decision was in the hands of the coaching staff. They could have opted to sit me out until the following year. Coach Owens thought we had a legitimate shot at winning the NCAA championship, and he also felt that those chances improved with me on the floor. We went on a seven-game winning streak and won the conference title outright, the first time that had happened in nine years.”
White helps Kansas reach the 1966 NCAA regional finals against eventual champion Texas Western. He hits a dramatic jumper at the end of overtime that would have given Kansas the victory, but the shot is disallowed because the referee rules that his foot is out of bounds.
“I remember having the ball in my hands and taking that final shot,” White says. “I literally fell back into a woman’s lap after the release, and I remember everyone celebrating after the shot went in. Then the official ruled that my foot was out of bounds. The call gave the game to Texas Western, who went on to defeat Kentucky for the championship. To this day my teammates kid me about my feet being too big and costing us the game.”
White laughs, but the loss still stings.
“The official made the call, but game film shows that I was inbounds when I released that last shot. I have the sequence framed on my wall at home, three photographs that show the position of my feet.”
White is selected to play for Team USA in the 1968 Olympics. It’s the ultimate honor. Harry Edwards, a native of East. St. Louis, is calling on black athletes to boycott the Olympic Games in Mexico City. Lew Alcindor, Elvin Hayes, and several other great black college players boycott.
“It wasn’t a tough decision,” he says. “Being a member of Team USA and representing my country were great honors. Nothing compares. We weren’t even considered the favorites to win the gold medal. The Russians were, but they lost to the Yugoslavians in the semifinals. Winning the gold was my greatest athletic accomplishment.”
Auerbach’s draft day gamble pays off when White is moved to the Marine Reserve program. The rookie reports to Celtics training camp in the fall of ’69.
“Was it as hard or as difficult as I thought it would be? It was a very demanding camp, but I was a Marine and I was in excellent condition. I’d been through all the physical and mental challenges that comes with military training, so I felt like I had an advantage.”
Auerbach is no longer coaching the team, but, to a young Jo Jo White, he seems omnipotent.
“Red’s fingerprints were everywhere when I got to Boston,” says White. “From the banners overhead to the shrewd roster moves, to him being there during training camp and at practices. And the cigar smoke—if you were ever around Red you know what I’m talking about. Until you actually meet a legend like Red you can only go on what you hear. Then you spend time with him and realize that he’s one of the most knowledgeable basketball minds in the game. Red Auerbach was a true genius. He outlasted players, coaches, general managers, and just about everyone else in the league.”
The Celtics struggle in White’s first season with the team. A year later, Auerbach strikes gold, drafting Florida State center Dave Cowens.
“There was so much to like about Dave’s game. He played with a tremendous amount of tenacity, which was a huge key to our success. He was versatile, and was able to utilize his quickness against the other centers in the league. He could guard the little guys when the situation called for it. He had an excellent outside shot. His desire was what made him so special.”
The Celtics win a franchise record 68 games during the 1972–73 season, but suffer a heartbreaking Game 7 loss to the Knicks in the Eastern Conference Finals.
“Havlicek hurt his shoulder and we fell behind 3–1 in that series,” White says. “Heinsohn adjusted the rotation by giving Don Nelson and Paul Silas more minutes, a move that reduced Bill Bradley’s effectiveness. The strategy worked, and we tied the series. Game 7 was back in the Boston Garden, and Tommy decided to start John instead of staying with the hot lineup. I can certainly understand the logic because John was our go-to guy. John gave it everything he had, but he just wasn’t the same player. It was a tough loss, especially after having such a successful season.”
A year later the Celtics beat the Knicks and face Milwaukee Bucks in the Finals.
“People still talk about Kareem’s skyhook at the buzzer of Game 6 to even the series,” White says. “There were eight seconds left in overtime and we were ahead by one point. We knew we were one big stop away from the title. Kareem’s skyhook was almost automatic, especially from the baseline, so during the timeout we talked about putting pressure on the ball and denying the entry pass where he liked to get it. Hank Finkel and Don Chaney did a great job of pushing Kareem away from the basket. He still got that shot up. Somehow it went in.”
The loss sends White and company back to Milwaukee for Game 7. If the Celtics are going to win its first title without Bill Russell, it’s going to come in hostile territory.
“We knew that conditioning was going to be the primary factor. Our goal during the series was to wear them down. We knew that their legs were gone, and that we would have the advantage in the later stages of the game. This isn’t to say that we took the Bucks lightly. Kareem was a player that we truly feared. We wanted to soften him up, make him work for his shots, slow him down.
“We applied constant pressure and tried to contest every shot. Oscar Robertson was Milwaukee’s only true ball handler, so we hounded Oscar and made it as difficult as possible for him to bring the ball up the court. The shot clock became a factor, and the pressure led to a lot of bad shots. We ran at every opportunity. The strategy took its toll. We won Game 7 easily.”
Two years later the Celtics return to the NBA Finals, this time against the Phoenix Suns. In Game 5, White plays 60 minutes in the sweatbox of Boston Garden, dropping 33 points while playing hellish defense and helping the Celtics escape with a win and a 3–2 series lead. White’s performance lifts Boston to its 13th NBA title. He’s named the Finals MVP.
“It was a very fast-paced game, so early on I realized that conditioning was going to be key,” White says. “This played into my strengths because I considered myself the best-conditioned athlete on the floor. My mental approach was, ‘If I’m tired then everyone else on the court must be dead tired.’
“Havlicek hit that running jumper at the end of the second overtime, and we all thought the game was over. We immediately started towards the tunnel because the crowd was pouring onto the court to celebrate. Then we find out that the clock stopped following Havlicek’s basket, and that the refs had put two seconds back on the clock. I had already cut the tape off my foot. My thought was, ‘What can happen in two seconds?’ Then Gar Heard hits his shot and we go to another overtime. Thankfully there wasn’t a three-point line at the time.”
White ends up playing a record 488 consecutive games in a Celtics uniform, an ironman streak of which he’s rightfully proud.
“It all comes back to conditioning,” he says. “John Havlicek is a prime example of that. He was always in phenomenal shape. You watched the way he took care of himself and you understood why he was such a great athlete.”
White doesn’t finish his career in Boston, but he later returns to work in the front office. His number is retired by both Kansas University and the Celtics. He’s also a member of the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame.
“Anytime you are recognized for your accomplishments it’s truly an honor,” he says. “To have my jersey retired to the Boston Garden rafters was a very special moment for me. Being honored at Kansas was also a thrill, and something that will always be very special. My mother was able to attend both ceremonies. I’m very thankful for that. And there’s no greater honor than to be voted into the Hall of Fame. I’ve been very blessed. I wouldn’t trade my journey for anything.”
https://i0.wp.com/www.celtic-nation.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/JoJo_White.png?fit=600%2C400&ssl=1400600Michael McClellanhttps://www.celtic-nation.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/celtics-clover-logo2.pngMichael McClellan2018-12-22 18:19:232018-12-24 03:15:04The Jo Jo White Interview
By: Michael D. McClellan | He was on the court for less than two minutes in the third overtime of The Greatest Game Ever Played, and yet Glenn McDonald’s contributions loomed extraordinarily large on that day, as he and his Boston Celtic teammates pursued a league-record 13th NBA Championship. Who knows what may have happened had the Celtics lost that Game 5, triple-overtime thriller, and then flown to Phoenix down three-games-to-two. Perhaps the Celtics would have won that game anyway, and returned to Boston to close out the 1976 NBA Finals on the fabled Boston Garden parquet floor. Perhaps another Celtic hero would have emerged, hitting clutch baskets with the game on the line in that blast-furnace of a gym, lifting the most decorated team in NBA history to another level of championship success. Or, perhaps not. No one knows how the emboldened Phoenix Suns would have played at home, with the luxury of a one game cushion, or how the Celtics would have responded after losing that triple-overtime epic – especially after leading in regulation by more than twenty points. And no one knows what might have happened had the series came down to a deciding, winner-take-all Game 7 in the Garden, with a sold-out crowd roaring for the Celtics and millions more watching the drama unfold on TV. Thanks to the timely, stellar play of McDonald, those scenarios remain the stuff of sports-crazed watering holes and Internet chat rooms. All the seldom-used swingman did on that memorable day, in those 95 seconds, was put the Boston Celtics on his back and carry the team to a 128-126 penultimate Game 5 victory.
The only triple-overtime game in NBA Finals history has been well-chronicled through the years, celebrated to the point of mythology and marketed to a whole new generation of NBA fans. Boston, with its rich tradition and star power – John Havlicek, Dave Cowens and Jo Jo White were household names at a time when the league was struggling to broaden its fan base – entered the series as the prohibitive favorites, while Phoenix arrived with brash determination and little else. Games 1 and 2 belonged to the Celtics, with the young Suns unable to match Boston’s veteran intensity. Phoenix answered in Game 3, riding the play of Paul Westphal and rookie center Alvin Adams to a 105-98 victory and keeping its comeback hopes alive. An 109-107 Suns win in Game 4 evened the series, sending it back to Boston 2-2 for the pivotal Game 5. That is where the most improbable championship game in NBA Finals history unfolded, a bizarre series of events that set the stage for McDonald’s beautifully unscripted heroics.
The Greatest Game Ever Played started as if it would be one of the biggest blowouts of all time, as the Celtics raced out to a 32-12 lead with just over nine minutes played in the first quarter. Few could have expected the Suns to climb back – especially in the stifling din otherwise known as Boston Garden – but Phoenix, young and blissfully ignorant to the Celtic Mystique, continued to chip away at the lead. With the halftime deficit at 15, Celtics head coach Tommy Heinsohn railed at the officiating – as he had for most of the first four games in the series – and then headed to the locker room to blunt the Sun comeback. The adjustments, however, did little to change the momentum; Boston scored just 34 points in the entire second half, while Phoenix maintained its composure and fought back to tie the game, 95-95, at the end of regulation.
The teams traded baskets in the first overtime, scoring six apiece, and a second overtime session appeared inevitable. With time draining away, Boston forward Paul Silas signaled to official Richie Powers for a timeout that the Celtics didn’t have. The gaffe could have – some say should have – cost the Celtics the game. Powers, however, failed to acknowledge Silas’ signal, and no technical was called on the play. Time ran out, and the Phoenix coaching staff angrily stalked after Powers, to no avail. The Celtics and Suns would play on.
Given new life, Boston forged a three-point lead with fifteen seconds remaining in the second overtime – a two-possession difference in 1976, this at a time when the three-point arc simply didn’t exist. A Dick Van Arsdale basket cut Boston’s lead to a single point, and former Celtic Paul Westphal stole the ball with less than 10 seconds to play. Curtis Perry suddenly found the ball in his hands with the game on the line, and he took the shot. The 14-foot jumper was off the mark, but Perry alertly followed his shot and scored to put Phoenix up, 110-109. With four seconds remaining, the Celtics did the only they that they could do – they raced the ball up the court, where John Havlicek’s fifteen footer banked cleanly into the basket as time expired. Pandemonium ensued. Fans poured onto the court to celebrate. In the stands, hugs and handshakes and talk of raising another banner to the rafters above. Jo Jo White, exhausted after playing nearly the entire game, sat on the bench and removed his shoes and socks amid the chaos. His teammates sprinted to the locker room. All of this while Powers worked frantically to inform the coaching staffs of both teams that the game wasn’t over, ruling that there was one second left on the clock when Havlicek’s shot dropped through the net.
Phoenix may have been given a one second reprieve, and a chance to win the game in the most dramatic fashion of all, but they still had to inbound the basketball from underneath their own basket. Scoring in that situation? The Suns didn’t have a chance. Everyone in the building knew it. But, as order was restored on the court, an idea was hatched; Westphal lobbied his head coach, John MacLeod, to let him call a timeout that didn’t exist. The Suns had already spent its allotment and had none to take. The referees would be forced to call a technical, which would give the Celtics a foul shot, and then the Suns would be allowed to inbound the basketball at midcourt – a far less daunting proposition with one second still on the clock. MacLeod listened intently to Westphal’s epiphany, and then acquiesced. It was a long shot, but it was also his team’s best option.
With order restored, White stepped to the line and calmly sank the technical. The Celtics were now up by two, 112-110, and time was on their side. One more second. One more stop. Phoenix had other ideas. They inbounded the ball to Gar Heard, who launched a shot from beyond the top of the key. With a flick of his wrist, the NBA’s first double-overtime Finals game since 1957 morphed into an epic battle that would transform everyone involved.
For Heinsohn, Heard’s shot was a bitter pill to swallow. Three key players had already fouled out, and a fourth – rugged power forward Paul Silas – would pick up his sixth personal with less than two minutes remaining. The rest of his rotation was exhausted. Heinsohn looked down his bench, considered inserting veteran forward Steve Kuberski, and then mysteriously changed his mind. An instant later, the opportunity of a lifetime belonged to the relatively inexperienced swingman from Long Beach State.
“I was definitely ready to go in,” McDonald says now, reflecting on the moment that would define his basketball career. “As a role player, you are always preparing for an opportunity to step in and help the team. You work hard in practice, doing the drills and competing in the scrimmages, and you want to be ready if your name is called. I honestly thought Heinsohn was going to bring in Kuberski, but he waved me over instead. You don’t think about anything at that point. You just go in and do the very best you can.”
All McDonald did in those 95 seconds was score six points, grab a pair of key rebounds, and run the floor with reckless abandon – all while thriving under the pressure of a national television audience. And although McDonald’s deeds didn’t win the series, it was his Game 5 heroics that had the basketball world talking long after the team’s 13th championship banner had been raised to the Boston Garden rafters.
“It took a while for my contributions to completely sink in,” McDonald says, smiling at the memory. “It’s something I’ll never forget, and it’s something I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.”
Little did McDonald know then, but that brief, shining moment in the NBA Finals would also be his last in a Celtic uniform. The team would cut him in training camp the following fall, and he would play just nine more games with the Milwaukee Bucks before retiring from the NBA. A clipped career, perhaps, but one that produced a championship ring and a permanent place in Celtic lore. And for those who think that McDonald was only about those 95 seconds of fame, it should be noted that McDonald played for two coaching legends while at Long Beach State (Jerry Tarkanian and Lute Olson), earning All-America honors and the distinction of being a first round pick in the 1974 NBA Draft. Add to that a successful post-basketball career, a lasting marriage to his college sweetheart, and two grown children with thriving careers of their own, and it’s easy to see that there’s more to Glenn McDonald than his giant role in The Greatest Game Ever Played.
You were born on March 21st, 1952 in Kewanee, Illinois. Please tell me a little about your childhood, what led you to relocate in California, and some of the things that spurred your interest in playing basketball.
I was born in Kewanee, but I pretty much moved right away. My mother married my father for the second time – they got married, had an annulment, and then remarried in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. I guess I was there until I was eleven, and then we moved back to Kewanee, Illinois. I was there until I was thirteen years old, and during that time I started getting involved in athletics. I ran track, and I played football, and I played a little basketball. That may sound surprising, but I really didn’t play much basketball initially. I was on the team. I wasn’t called on a lot in games. It wasn’t a real passion for me at that time – I just loved sports in general, and I played because it was the sport in season at the time. There was a lot of pickup basketball going on in the neighborhood that I was l living in, so I’d always go to the courts outside and play with the older guys. I just enjoyed playing, and enjoyed watching the older guys. It really helped me to learn to play the game.
I was in the eighth grade in 1965, and my mother told me that we were going to move to California. I didn’t want to go because I had gotten involved with a lot of friends, and as kid you don’t want to leave your school all of a sudden. She explained that there was more opportunity for her in California, and at the time is was just her, me, and my three sisters. She just felt that there was more opportunity as far as work went, if we moved west. It was a quick decision; we had relatives in California, whom she went to visit, and all of a sudden she just decided she wanted to move out here. I told her that I wanted to stay behind and live with my aunt, but she explained that I needed to help raise my sisters. And then, not long after that, we’re sitting in the living room, watching TV, and there is all of this coverage of the Watts Riots. I just looked at her and said, ‘This is where you want to take us – right into the middle of the Watts Riots?’ I didn’t want to go [laughs]. But that’s what happened. We moved to California just as the riots were coming to an end – I think they lasted six days. So, moving to California was a big cultural change for me. My new school was predominantly black, whereas the school I went to in Illinois was predominantly white. It was just a whole different world for me.
You played high school basketball for Jefferson High School in Los Angeles. Please tell me about this period in your life.
I rebelled against the move. I told my mother that I wasn’t going to play organized sports of any kind, because she just knew that I would get involved in athletics as soon as we settled into our new environment. My attitude was, ‘You’re making me move and I don’t want to, so I’m not going to play sports for you.’ So I guess you could say that I went through a phase where I was trying to punish her.
We arrived in California in ’65, and I think I was going through the ninth grade at that time. Jefferson High School was tenth-through-twelfth, so I was still a year away from all of that. And I stuck to my threat – for awhile, at least. I would play pickup games in the neighborhood, but I wouldn’t go out for any of the teams. And then one day during my sophomore year in high school, which was my first year at Jefferson, I learned that there was going to be tryouts for the basketball team. One of the kids on the varsity team was a high school All-American, and he baited me into playing. He told me that I wasn’t good enough to make the B team at Jefferson, and I was like, ‘What do you mean, I can’t make the B team? I’m better than most of the players on your varsity team.’ He just kept it up, and the next thing you know, there I was, trying to make the team [laughs]. I wanted to prove the point that I could make the team, and that’s how I really go involved with basketball.
Following graduation, you accepted a scholarship to play basketball for Long Beach State and a talented, young coach named Jerry Tarkanian. What was it like to play for Jerry those first two seasons?
Awesome. During those days you couldn’t play varsity ball right away – you had to play on the freshman team – but it was still special just being involved. I practiced with the freshman team, but I practiced with the varsity as well. Just the knowledge Jerry had as a coach was unbelievable. Up to that point I’d never been involved with someone who knew so much about the game. In high school we were just a run-and-gun team, not a whole lot of fundamentals, just playing basic defense and using our press. When I got to Long Beach, Jerry showed me a lot more about the skills aspect of basketball. He really worked with us on our fundamentals.
The defensive schemes were so much different. As I said, in high school it was either man-to-man or the press. Jerry believed in zones. He had a 1-2-2 zone that was just unbelievable. We had big, quick, athletic people in our program, and with those types of players you would think we would play man-to-man, but we ran a tremendous zone at that time. So I learned a lot from Jerry. He was a great coach to play for, and he transformed me from a scorer into a defensive specialist. That became my thing. At Long Beach, I ended up being one of the top defensive players in the nation. It was a great reputation to have. As a defensive specialist you go out and challenge people, and you don’t like to be scored against. That was my mindset. I didn’t like people scoring on me. And Jerry instilled that in me. I learned that great defense was just as important as scoring baskets. He was a good coach to be under. He was also a very funny man. People reflect on his career now and think that he was pretty lenient, and back then he could be that way at times, but he was still a disciplinarian.
Lute Olson replaced Tarkanian prior to your senior season, and Long Beach State didn’t miss a beat. The team was 24-2, and ranked #2 in the nation at one time. Please tell me a little about playing for Mr. Olson.
We always tease Lute about that situation. We had a young man come into the program named Clifton Pondexter – his brother, Roscoe, was already playing at Long Beach – and he was just a monster. He was 6’9”, very strong, could score around the basket, and could jump out of the gym. We didn’t pick up very many more people. Lute brought in a couple of his kids from Long Beach City College, but they didn’t play a lot. So we tease Lute to this day, and tell him that even if our mothers had coached that team we would have been 24-2 [laughs]. We felt that we were that talented. It was sad that we ended up going on probation over some things that had happened in previous years, but the fact was that we were a very good team. It was just unfortunate that we weren’t able to prove it by going to the NCAA Tournament.
Lute was quite different than Tark. He didn’t like to joke around a lot. One of the big things may have been that it was his first year there, and he had to come in and set the tone right away. He probably felt like he had to make the statement that said, ‘I am in charge.’ So, he really didn’t get along with a lot of the players. I was basically the mediator on the team. When things would happen on the team between Coach and the players, I would always step in and let them know the deal. Guys would say, ‘I didn’t come here to play for Lute, I came to play for Tark.’ And I would say, ‘Well, Tark’s not here. He had to leave. So you have a new coach, and you need to give this man the respect that he deserves.’ And we overcame the transition. We all clicked together as a team and had a tremendous year.
Lute was another great teacher of the fundamentals. He was a very disciplined coach. The thing that he did do was give people a little freer reign as far as scoring. Tark had a set group of players that he wanted to do the scoring. Lute’s approach was, ‘If you know you can score, and you’re in a range where you know you can score, then go ahead and look for your shot. I’m not going to stop you from looking for your shot. Just understand your limitations, and don’t try to exceed your limitations.’ For me, I went from averaging 3 points-per-game to averaging 16 points-per-game.
So, like I said, they were just two totally different types of people – but very much alike at the same time. Lute didn’t joke around with the players like Tark did, but they were both disciplined in their own ways. If someone was doing wrong, they would sit that person on the bench. They didn’t play favorites. If the best player on the team did something wrong, both coaches would let that player know it. That’s what I respect the most about both of them.
From 1971-74, Long Beach State’s record was an incredible 75-9, and you were a huge part of that success. You gained a reputation for your defensive prowess, as well as for your clutch shooting. What memories stand out from this period after all of these years?
The biggest thing that stands out now is how dominating we were on our home court. That’s one of the things that’s always been important to me – winning at home. The other thing is just the fact that we were such a close-knit team. We really and truly got along. We did things together. To this day we stay in touch with one another. For me, the way I am as a person, that was one of the most enjoyable times in my life. Being around my teammates like that – we really did look at each other as family. Of course you are going to have a little resentment here-or-there, but it never held over. We might get upset with each other over something at practice, and then we’d be right back together that evening, eating dinner together or going to a movie together. So I just think that the camaraderie that we had as a team was very special. I don’t think a lot of teams understand how important chemistry is, both on and off of the court.
In 1988, you were inducted into the Long Beach State athletic hall of fame. What does this honor mean to you?
To me it shows that people really appreciated me as both a person and a basketball player. The people that vote for you look at a lot of different things when they decide to present your with that award. They look at whether you graduated from college, and how you performed as a player. They look at your character – not only during your days as an athlete at Long Beach, but also during the years since leaving school. So that award just shows me that people have a lot of respect for me. I was very, very honored to have been inducted. It’s one of the biggest events that they have at Long Beach, and to be inducted so soon was just a huge honor. It showed me that people looked at me in a different light, and not just as a basketball player.
You were selected by the Boston Celtics with the 17th overall pick in the 1974 NBA Draft. How has the draft changed over the years, and what was it like to be drafted by the world champion Boston Celtics?
There are so many more teams in the NBA today – that’s one difference. And now they have the NBA Draft Lottery, and the Green Room where all of the top picks gather. It’s a huge event now. The cash rewards for being drafted in the first round are mind boggling when compared to what we were signing for back then. During my days, a player had to negotiate a contract. Now, you really don’t have to negotiate. There are already set amounts in place for each draft position in the first round, so you already have an idea of what you’re going to make based upon where you end up in the first round of the draft. So it’s just totally different in that aspect. And like I said, today players sit in the Green Room and wait to see if they’re going to be a lottery pick. I can imagine that the wait must be incredibly stressful. During my time, you were basically waiting for a phone call. That was my case.
I had a feeling that I was going to get drafted. I didn’t know how high or how low, or anything like that, but I knew that there were teams interested in me. I knew that the Milwaukee Bucks were definitely interested, and of course they had the ABA at that time as well. My coach called me with the news, which was kind of funny because of who drafted me. I was never a Celtic fan, and I wasn’t a Laker fan because I didn’t like the Lakers, either. I was always pulling for the underdog. So one of the things I said was, ‘I hope that I don’t get drafted by the Celtics, because they win all of the time and I want to be able to beat the Celtics.’ That was my thing. And then, all of a sudden Coach calls me up that day. I was in the middle of moving, and he says, ‘Glenn, I’ve got some news for you.’ And I said, ‘What’s up, Coach?’ And he says, ‘You were just drafted in the first round by the Boston Celtics’. I said, ‘Oh, okay…good. But let me call you back a little later because I’m moving right now.’ And he says, ‘Don’t you understand what I just told you? You were drafted in the first round by one of the greatest NBA franchises ever.’ I said, ‘I know, but I’m moving my furniture right now. Let me call you back’. That’s just how I am. I just don’t get real excited about a lot of things. And even though I might be excited, a lot of times I just don’t show it outwardly. So I called him back later, and Coach was still taken aback by my attitude. I just said, ‘ Look, I’m sorry but I was moving!’ [Laughs.]
After the news hit me, I was like, ‘Man, the Celtics – now I’ve got to move from one coast to the other coast. I’m thinking of all this kind of stuff. And then I went out there and met Red, and had a chance to tour the Boston Garden – and as raggedy as that place was, it still made me have chill bumps. I was so excited when I got there. I saw the banners, and at that time I just felt so proud to be involved with that organization. And to this day I’m still proud to have been a Boston Celtic. They still keep in contact with me. It’s just a different situation, it really is. They preach family, and they truly are a family. They try very hard to keep former players informed as to what’s going on, and I just really appreciate that so much.
In addition to yourself, three other Long Beach State players were taken in the draft; Cliff Pondexter, Leonard Gray, and Roscoe Pondexter. What does this say about the strength of that Long Beach State team?
For me it says that we were very, very talented, and we played against very good schools to have that talent come out. A lot of times when you play against weaker schools, your not seen and you don’t put out the effort that you should. If you’re not careful, you end up playing down to that level of competition. Tark and Lute made sure that we played the toughest schedule possible. At that time we were in the PCAA, which is the Big West now, and the conference had good schools. Even Cal State-LA had a very competitive team. So did Pacific, and San Diego State. Fresno State. So the conference schedule was a challenge, and we tried to play a tough non-conference schedule as well. I think USC and UCLA were the only non-conference teams that flat out refused to play us. If we were going to play them, then it was going to be in the NCAA Tournament.
Please take me back to that first training camp with the Boston Celtics.
Very, very tough [laughs]. I remember my first day of training camp very well. I actually drove from California to Boston, stopped in Illinois because I wanted to see some of my relatives, and got to Boston the day before training camp was to start. That was a big mistake on my part. I was only going to stay in Kewanee for a day, and then keep going, but I ended up staying there for three days [laughs]. So now I’m hustling to get there, and I get there the day before camp starts. Our first practice was just run, run, run, run, run. I remember Heinsohn asking the players if we were tired. I’m thinking that he’s wanting to know who needs a sub, so I raise my hand. And he says, ‘Well, that’s too bad, Mac, because you’re going to get even more tired.’ He didn’t sub me out – he kept me on the court and ran me to death. It was unbelievable. That’s when I really learned that watching NBA players run on TV and doing it yourself are two entirely different things. I had always prided myself on being in shape, but that was whole different situation. As much as we ran I just knew that I was going to pass out. Luckily I didn’t, but it was the most demanding thing that I’d ever been through in my life.
The big thing about those Celtic training camps was that you could never stop moving. Even if you didn’t have the ball, you were moving. If you were playing defense and your man didn’t have the ball, then Heinsohn expected you to have your feet moving in case they made a pass to your man, or in case he made a cut to the basket. He wanted you to be able to react right away. So you couldn’t stand still. If he was talking to you on the sidelines, and you weren’t in the game, you had to be running in place. I’ll never forget that. I had never seen anything like that in my whole life. But then I realized why they did that. They were in excellent shape. Perpetual motion. It was an eye-opening experience, for me.
What was it like to meet Red Auerbach for the first time?
When I first me Red, I didn’t have an idea of how he was going to be. I didn’t watch a lot of pro games on TV. Every now and then I’d watch one, but that just wasn’t me. I’ve never been the kind to go, ‘Oh, so-and-so is playing so I’d better get home and watch the game.’ I’d never been that type. If I’m home and a game’s on, then I might watch it. If not, then I’m not going to make a plan just to get home so that I can see a basketball game. I was never like that. So I had heard about Red Auerbach, because he had won all of those championships. I’d seen him on TV with that cigar, so I knew what he looked like. But then to go in there and actually meet him – you know it’s an honor to be able to meet a man like that, but at the same time you’re saying to yourself, ‘My God, this man is arrogant.’ But then you look at him again and say to yourself, ‘He has the right to be arrogant – just look at what he’s done. No one else has done anything close to what this man has done.’ He was a very brash individual, but you could tell that he cared about his players. I had never been under him as a player, but you could just tell by watching film that he cared. The way he reacted, the way he protected them. It wasn’t only about Red Auerbach. It was about his team – his family – and he was going to do what he had to do to protect them. And when they won, he was going to celebrate.
So it was an honor to meet him. And then, to sit down and talk contract with him, you learned very quickly that he was a businessman. It was as simple as that. There wasn’t any joking around about money. He didn’t pretend like you were going to come in and take over the team. John Havlicek was there. Don Nelson. He let you know that there were players on the team that deserved to be there, and had been there for awhile, and that you were going to have to come in and prove yourself. So you looked at him and said to yourself, ‘If that’s the way it has to be done, that’s the way it has to be done.’ And I’d never be one to feel entitled to anything anyway. I believed that playing time was something that I had to earn.
The Celtics went 60-22 in your first season with the team, but fell to the Washington Bullets in the Eastern Conference Finals. Please take me back to that series. What stands out after all of these years?
More than anything else it was the dominance of Wes Unseld. We had good guards, and we had good post players, but Wes the difference maker. I didn’t play much in that series, so it’s hard to recall a lot of the specifics, especially now that so many years have passed. But Washington was the better team that year. They beat us to come out of the East, and then they defeated Golden State in four straight to win the title.
Please tell me a little about Dave Cowens.
Dave….[laughs]….one of the most intense individuals I’ve ever met in my life. To this day I have the utmost respect for him, because Dave has always been the most down-to-earth individual. The thing that I’ve always liked about him is that he says what’s on his mind, and he’s not going to let you sit around wondering what he’s thinking. He’s going to tell you what he thinks about different things. Tremendous player. For his size – he was only 6’9” – the things that he would do, and the way he would throw his body around in order to help his team win, you just can’t ask for more from a player. He was very, very talented. He was a lefty that would take it at you. He was ferocious on the boards. Never gave up. And then you get him off the court and he’s a very low-key, down-to-earth person. And just a joy to play with. If I ever had to do it over again, he is somebody that I would definitely want to be on my team. He epitomizes what hard work is all about. He wasn’t the most talented person in the world, but my God, he got it done. He had the biggest heart that you would ever see.
Following the 1974-75 season, the Celtics traded Paul Westphal to the Phoenix Suns for Charlie Scott. What did Scott’s arrival mean to this team in terms of regaining the championship?
He was already a phenomenal scorer, but he was also a big, quick guard that wanted it. He came in and hadn’t won a championship, and he really wanted that ring. I think that his mindset was one of fitting in. He was going to come in here and do whatever possible to help us win a championship. Charlie could rebound, he could shoot, he could take his man off the dribble. He was a long guard that could defend pretty much anybody in the backcourt. He also had heart. He’d been through so much during his college days – the atmosphere that he had to play in, and he was just one of those types of people who really wanted a championship bad. He was going to sacrifice whatever he needed to sacrifice in order to do that. With him having to come in and play with Jo Jo White, John Havlicek and Dave Cowens, everybody wondered if there would be enough basketballs to go around. Charlie subjugated his game to fit in with these guys. He knew that they were the primary weapons on offense, and that his job was to compliment them and defend.
I previous years, Paul Westphal wasn’t really looked upon as a scorer for our team. He was young and just starting, and he had a lot of potential. But there wasn’t a big need for him to produce points at that stage of his career. Charlie had to come in and pretty much play the same role as Westphal. He was suddenly the fourth option on offense, whereas he was the primary option in Phoenix. When he came in he knew his role and he accepted it, and he really played it well.
You’re career with the Celtics is perhaps best known for your role in that triple-overtime classic in the 1976 NBA Finals. Please take me back to that game in general, and to your contributions in particular.
That particular game was supposed to have been over at halftime. We were killing them, up twenty-plus points, and it really illustrates that you can never let up on your opponent. When a team starts gaining confidence, you don’t know what’s going to happen. And that’s pretty much what happened with us. We felt we had the game locked up. We made some mistakes defensively, and then they started hitting some shots. I played earlier than normal in the first quarter, and then I played early in the third quarter. After that I was pretty much on the bench. By then I could tell that the Suns weren’t afraid. They believed that they could come back in this game, and they believed that they could win it. It became a situation where we’d score one basket and they would score two or three, we’d make a mistake and they would capitalize, and the next thing you know, we’re in the middle of a game. You could see the players on our team trying to step it up – we were on our heels and we needed to do something about it. You could tell that they knew that it was time to get serious again. But it was already too late by that time, because Phoenix already had the momentum. Paul Westphal was playing unbelievable basketball, hitting just about everything he put up there.
And so we went into that first overtime, and then into the second overtime where we thought we had won the game. And then we had to come back out, because Richie Powers had made the call to give the Suns another second on the clock. I remember that he got jumped on by a crazed fan, and the place was an absolute madhouse. It was hard to believe the things that were going on out there.
My role was to be a cheerleader more than anything else. I really wasn’t focusing on the fact that I might be going back into the game. With so many veterans having been in those situations before, I was sure that my few minutes in the third quarter were the last that I’d see in the game. But then another one of our veterans fouled out, and at that point Tommy just felt that he wanted fresh legs. And that’s when he looked down the bench and called my name. He just looked at me and said, ‘Mac, get out there and run ‘em’. And that’s basically what it was. With me having fresh legs from sitting on the bench for awhile, I was able to get a couple of rebounds. I was able to fill the lanes and get out on the break. I was able to get a layup here-or-there. And that’s basically what my role was in that third overtime.
When Paul Silas fouled out, I told Steve Kuberski that he’d better get ready to go in. Steve took his warm-ups off, and all of a sudden Heinsohn says, ‘Mac, get in there!’ And I’m saying to myself, ‘Oh my God!’ But that was only for a split second. I jumped up didn’t think about the magnitude of the situation. I went in there to do my job, contribute, and make the most of a golden opportunity. And that’s what I’ve always told my kids. I stress how important it is to be focused and to be ready, because you never know when your number is going to be called. You want to be able to produce whenever they call your number. Fortunately for me, I was able to hit a couple of baskets and make a couple free throws. And fortunately it went right. It’s amazing, but it happened for me. I thank God that he put me in that position, and I thank Him even more for my being ready to produce when called upon.
The Celtic championship teams of the 70s tend to get overlooked. Do you think this is because those teams were sandwiched between the title teams of Bill Russell and Larry Bird?
Probably so. Yeah. Because, first of all, there were so many championships before those teams won titles in the 70s, and then there were all of those trips to the NBA Finals with Bird running the show. In both cases there wasn’t a big gap between trips to the Finals – it just seemed like the Celtics were playing for a championship every year. On one side of us you had Russell, a phenomenal player won 11 titles in 13 years, and on the other you had Bird, who won 3 in 7. He probably should have been more, if things had gone a little differently against the Lakers.
Dave was named one of the 50 Greatest Players, but he still wasn’t the most dominant player around. Russell and Bird were dominant. Dave was a dominant player in his own sense, but it was mainly because of his blue collar work ethic. He was often overmatched against most of the centers in the league – he was always looking up to them, height-wise – but he had that great heart and he usually won the battles under the boards. He was a team player who worked extremely hard, like Russell and Bird, but he did it with less flash and bravado. I think that’s why he may tend to get overlooked, and why those championship teams of the 70s tend to get overlooked. I’m glad that he was recognized as one of the 50 Greatest Players, because he really deserved that honor.
After playing basketball your whole life, and dreaming of winning a championship, what was it like to finally win it all?
When we came back from Phoenix we were all so excited, but, for me, the appreciation factor didn’t really set in until I came back from playing overseas. Because after I came back from the Philippines I started seeing clips of The Greatest Game Ever Played, and I realized that I played a significant part in that piece of history. And then I realized that I’d accomplished something that a whole lot of other people strive for but never obtain. Although I was in the NBA only two years, I was fortunate enough to win a championship ring in one of them. So it wasn’t until later in my life that I was able to understand the importance of that whole situation. If I want to wear my ring, then I get it out and wear it and know that I was a part of something special. It’s a tremendous feeling. I work as Director of Intramurals at Long Beach, and kids will see clips of the game on ESPN Classic. They’ll come up to me and say, ‘Mr. McDonald, I saw this game last night – it was between the Boston Celtics and the Phoenix Suns – and I didn’t know that you played for the Celtics! You have a championship ring!’ And then you realize that a lot of people would give anything to experience that moment. It makes me cherish that moment even more.
What do you remember most about the fabled Boston Garden?
The dead spots in the floor [laughs]. We would know where the dead spots were, and we would force dribblers to those spots. We could get steal opportunities that way, because the ball wouldn’t come up as high as it normally did. The Celtic veterans would know not to go to those areas – they’d played in the Garden for so many years, and they knew that floor like it was a second home.
The other thing was looking up at all of those championship banners and retired jerseys. You can’t beat that. And then you realize that you’re a part of that same program, so you understand that it’s a true honor to be a Boston Celtic.
Your time in Boston was brief, but we have a saying: “Once a Celtic, always a Celtic.” What was it like for you to play for this proud franchise?
I was blessed to be able to play for a franchise like the Celtics. You have the Lakers, and the 76ers, and those are proud franchises, but I was blessed to be a Celtic because of the way that they treat you as a person. I was a role player who was with the team for two years only, and to this day I get literature or phone calls if there is something going on. They always make a point to ask if I’d like to come back and be involved. Those things, to me, are really important. That tells me that the Celtics truly believe that you are a part of the family.
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? Whatever dream you have, go for it. Be sincere with yourself. Treat people the way you want people to treat you. You can accomplish whatever you set out to do in life if you’re sincere about it, and you put forth the effort.
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.
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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