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Tag Archive - Bill Russell

When Hawks vs. Celtics Meant Excitement

May 13, 2012 in by with 0 Comments

via St. Louis Sports History

The past two weeks, the cries of basketball fans everywhere have pleaded for the horrendous Boston Celtics – Atlanta Hawks 1st round series to end. Despite these pleas, the basketball gods willed that that contest continue for 6 excruciating games. Mercifully, it ended Thursday but in a typically painful way: mismanaged calls by refs and missed free throws by players.

However, Celtics vs. Hawks wasn’t always cause for concern. In fact, back in the late 1950s and early 1960s, it was the best match-up around in the NBA. To be precise, from 1957 to 1961, the St. Louis Hawks and the Boston Celtics met in the NBA Finals 4 times. There was plenty of in-game heroics and pre-game shenanigans to entertain all during this stretch, but that first clash in 1957 was perhaps the best.

There was oodles of back story, intrigue and, most importantly, delightful on-court play.

Seeds of a Rivalry

The antipathy between this New England city and Missouri burgh begins where all great rivalries do… the Tri-Cities of Iowa and Illinois.

Actually, let’s back this train up a bit further. The story begins in Buffalo, New York. It is there where Ben Kerner, a local businessman, established the Buffalo Bisons in the National Basketball League (NBL) in that league’s 1946-47 season, its 11th. Also started that year was the upstart Basketball Association of America (BAA). Unimportant right now, but hold that thought on the BAA.

Kerner’s experiment with pro basketball in Buffalo ended like all previous attempts did: failure. There had been two previous incarnations of “Buffalo Bisons” that went up in smoke. There was one in the American Basketball League of the 1920s and a previous one in the NBL (then known as the Midwest Basketball Conference) during the mid-1930s. Both attempts collapsed after a single season. This newest attempt by Kerner didn’t even last that long. The team suffering from horrendous attendance bolted for Moline, Illinois after 13 games.

Now, I know we’ve all contemplated packing our bags and moving to Moline for a fresh start, however Kerner actually went through with this plan not only because Buffalo was terrible for attendance, but Moline was excellent for it. 3 weeks before the move, a neutral site game between the Chicago Gears (with George Mikan) and Indianapolis Kautskys had drawn over 4,000 fans. That was stellar attendance and Kerner took note and thus the Tri-Cities Blackhawks were born.

Sidenote: Ben Kerner this season employed Hall of Famer William “Pop” Gates as a Blackhawk. Gates was African-American.  In fact, the NBL occasionally had been using black players for years, predating Jackie Robinson in MLB. 

Over the next couple of seasons, the Blackhawks were an above average team always making the playoffs in the NBL and the times seemed decent. Then along came a merger with the BAA in 1950 that created the NBA. The NBL had primarily been located in modest-sized Midwestern cities, while the BAA was in larger East Coast locales. The merger set in motion economic forces that would move the Blackhawks from the Tri-Cities of Moline, Davenport and Rock Port to Milwaukee, Wisconsin (renamed just “Hawks”) and then finally to St. Louis in order to financially compete with the old BAA teams in New York, Philadelphia and Boston. Not that any of those teams were rolling in dough. No one in professional basketball was then. But these moves were the difference between life and death for Kerner.

Before leaving the Tri-Cities, though, Kerner employed a plucky coach with a loud mouth and an enormous chip on his shoulder: Arnold “Red” Auerbach.

Although only 32, Auerbach, already had a good track record as coach with the Washington Capitals before arriving in the Tri-Cities in 1950, the year of the NBL-BAA merger. With the Caps in the BAA, Auerbach had amassed a .684 win percentage overall and a single-season win percentage of .817 in 1947. That would not be bested until the 1967 76ers. Auerbach had also demonstrated a keen touch in making personnel decisions in Washington.

Upon being hired in the Tri-Cities, Auerbach extracted from Kerner a promise to leave him total control over personnel. As you may guess, that pledge was quickly broken by Kerner who meddled in affairs and ultimately drove Red from the Tri-Cities after just one season. The broken promise and their clash of personalities, however, had cast the dye for the vitriol of the 1957 NBA Finals.

via bestsportsphotos.com

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The 1962 Season: the Celtics-Lakers Rivalry Begins

April 1, 2012 in by with 0 Comments

 

NBA

The Eastern Division Finals had seen the most pitched confrontation yet between the Russell-Chamberlain, Celtics-Warriors rivalry. As great as those two rivalries were, there was a temporal quality. Russell and Chamberlain were mortal and although their stories would go on, their battles would eventuality come to a close. The Celtics-Warriors clashes could have sustained, but the Philadelphia franchise headed west to California’s Bay Area, putting an end to that heated dispute.

However, in the 1962 NBA Finals, the Celtics would find an eternal enemy, one that has stood the test of the time and continued to add new chapters nearly 50 years later: the Los Angeles Lakers.

The Celtics had already played the Minneapolis Lakers in the finals before (1959) as the Celtics, unknowingly, were on their way to surpassing the dynastic excellence of the Minnesota club’s early years. The 1959 Lakers were far-removed from their glory days. Leading the way was rookie Elgin Baylor and last holdover from the Mikan years Vern Mikkelsen, but they were swept unceremoniously by Boston.

Although they came within one game of reaching the finals again in the 1959-60 season, the Lakers were struggling financially. The summer of 1960 proved to be one of remarkable change for the Lakers: they moved to California and drafted Jerry West setting up an return to glory and a windfall of financial success.

For the National Basketball Association, this was truly its first national finals. For the first time a team beyond the banks of the Mississippi River would contend for the championship. And the contest between Boston and Los Angeles would prove to be just as mighty as the Mississippi.

WARM UP

The accepted storyline of the Lakers vs. Celtics in the 1960s was a great one-two punch of Los Angeles constantly faltering to a more balanced Boston team. There is certainly much truth to this. Jerry West and Elgin Baylor averaged nearly 70 points between them in the 1962 season, becoming the 1st and only pair of teammates to average over 30 points in the same season. But there was more to the Lakers than West’s fearless drives and Baylor’s acrobatic finishes.

First and foremost was Rudy LaRusso. At 6’7” and 220 lbs, LaRusso usually played forward but could do spot duty at center. The 4x all-star averaged 17 points by virtue of a sweet jump shot and 10 rebounds to go along with staunch defense. 29-year old Frank Selvy was nearing the end of his career, but had put together perhaps his finest season since his rookie campaign with 15, 5 and 5 at the point guard position. At center, Los Angeles rotated Ray Felix, the 1st black player to win Rookie of the Year back in 1954, and Jim Krebs.

Where things fell apart was the bench. Mimicking the problems faced by the Philadelphia Warriors, the Lakers would have a hell of a time surviving a bad night from any starter. The Celtics on the other hand knew they could do with a bad game from Sam Jones, Bob Cousy or Tom Heinsohn because of their 3 reliable bench players (Jim Loscutoff, K.C. Jones and Frank Ramsey).

GAME TIME

The series opened on April 7 in Boston with a rare and coveted national TV appearance for the NBA. The Celtics were only slightly favored. On the one hand, they had won 4 titles in the previous 5 years. But on the other, Los Angeles had defeated Boston 3 out of 4 times in the regular season when they had Elgin Baylor in uniform (he missed half the season with military service). Uncle Sam wouldn’t be a problem Elgin was available for the entire series.

Boston came out with a thunderous 122-108 drubbing of Los Angeles  in Game 1. After taking a 60-52 halftime lead, the Celtics opened the 2nd half with a 35-22 advantage in the 3rd quarter. In true Celtics form, Boston had eight players nest between 8 and 24 points. The Lakers were led by Elgin Baylor’s 35 points.

The very next day Game 2 was played and the Lakers showed Boston they would not be intimidated by the Game 1 blowout. Jerry West came out blazing scoring the Lakers’ first 11 points and LA outscored Boston 43-23 in the 2nd quarter to take a 73-59 lead at the half. Boston mounted a furious comeback, even taking the lead briefly at 112-111, but ultimately Los Angeles won 129-122.

Baylor, West and LaRusso combined for 98 points in the contest.

Knotted at one game apiece, the teams flew out west to California for Game 3. Again, West and Baylor were magnificent combining for 75 points, but little aid was given by their teammates. Boston meanwhile was up to their usual balanced tricks with seven players in the 7 to 26 points range.

With Boston leading 113-108 with under 2 minutes left, Jerry West assumed the title of Mr. Clutch and gave the 1st-ever finals crowd in LA something to remember. Knocking down a jumper and then connecting on three free throws, West was able to tie the game at 115. After a Boston timeout with 3 seconds left, Sam Jones attempted an inbounds pass that was picked off by West and taken down court for a game-winning layup.

[flash http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sn4H_zMFm7A w=400 h=300]

After that devastating loss, the Celtics were down 2 games to 1 and Red Auerbach knew they had to head back to Boston tied 2-2 for a legitimate chance to win the series. The C’s responded with an inspired 115-103 road victory leaving Red relieved, if only for the moment:

“We just had to have this one. I’m tremendously proud of the way they bounced back from that heartbreaking loss Tuesday night. The fellows had a lot of life and our shooting was just about at capacity. This was the time for them to be on. Otherwise we would have been down 3-1.”

Back in Boston for Game 5, Elgin Baylor delivered a performance for the ages.

Elgin wasted no time in his thrashing of the Boston defense with 18 points in the 1st quarter. By halftime he had 33 points. But perhaps this was part of the Boston game plan. After 3 quarters, Boston was leading 99 to 93.  As the fourth quarter chugged along, the Celtics still clung to 116-114 lead. Baylor proceeded to score 6 straight points and put Los Angeles ahead.

Sam Jones and Lakers big man Jim Krebs traded baskets and now the score stood 122-121 in favor of LA. With just 16 seconds left, Jerry West caught an inbounds pass and was hacked on a drive to the basket. He hit both free throws icing the game for the Lakers.

Baylor finished Game 5 with 61 points and 22 rebounds. The 61 points was a playoff record and wouldn’t be broken until Michael Jordan scored 63 against Boston in 1986, but that came in double overtime. Baylor also set the playoff record for most points in a half (33), which would be broken by Sleepy Floyd in 1987.

Trailing again in the series, but this time facing elimination, Boston again responded favorably. Sam Jones was the man of the hour for Boston hitting 17 of his 27 shots for 35 points. 5 other Celtics hit double figures while the Lakers got 34 from both, Elgin and West, but little else. The final score was 119-105.

This 1st finals meeting between Boston and Los Angeles was now headed to a Game 7 and it would be an absolute slugfest.

Always appropriate for such occasions was the drunken and rowdy Boston Garden crowd lusting for Laker blood and a fourth straight title. Things started well enough with the Celtics taking a 53-47 halftime lead. As the 3rd quarter progressed, Boston saw their 73-67 lead evaporate in moments as Jerry West reeled off 7 points to ultimately tie the game by the quarter’s end.

Bill Russell, West and Baylor exchanged baskets as the game remained tight. Sam Jones got a key block and recovered from a woeful 1st half (1-10 shooting) to finish the game with 27 points. Although he scored only 10 points for the game, Frank Selvy came up big in the fourth: two steals and two baskets to tie the game at 100 in the final minute.

With the score still tied and 5 seconds left, the Lakers had recovered a Frank Ramsey miss and were now set up for a final shot to end the Celtics dynasty. As West and Baylor drew the lion’s share of the Celtics’ attention, Selvy found himself open on the baseline and Hot Rod Hundley hit him with the pass. Selvy took the jumper, but it was a tad too hard and hit the far side of the rim. Russell secured the rebound and the game went to overtime. The drained Lakers couldn’t overcome Boston in the extra period as Sam Jones dropped 5 points to seal the 110 to 107 victory.

The Celtics had won their 4 straight title and 5th in 6 years. They’d survived by 2 points in Game 7 against Philadelphia in the Eastern Division Finals and now by 3 points in overtime in Game 7 to Los Angeles. And the difference had come down to two shots at the end of regulation in both. Boston’s Sam Jones had hit his last-second shot to defeat Philly, while Los Angeles’ Frank Selvy had missed his chance at eternal glory.

And by the way, Bill Russell had 30 points and 40 rebounds to finish off the Lakers. Now that’s how you close out a series and the marvelous 1962 season.

 

PS – You can  watch Game 7 here

The 1962 Season: Philly vs. Boston, Wilt vs. Russell, Barstools vs. Jungle Jim

March 25, 2012 in by with 0 Comments

Bettmann/CORBIS

 

THE SETUP

Oh, I’m sure everyone’s familiar with mythical aura of Wilt vs. Russell, but let’s take a crash course lesson on the Boston Celtics vs. the Philadelphia Warriors, which was one of the great rivalries of the early NBA.

Philadelphia in 1956 had captured the NBA title behind the Hall of Fame trio of Neil Johnston, Paul Arizin, and Tom Gola. Johnston in 1953 had succeeded George Mikan as the pre-eminent NBA center. For 5 straight seasons (1953-1957) Johnston led the NBA in win shares and had a PER above 25.0 while also capturing 3 scoring titles, 3 FG% crowns and led the league in rebounding once.

Then along came Bill Russell in 1957.

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The Hill You’ll Never Get Over

February 28, 2012 in by with 0 Comments

Via Flickr - Courtesy H. Mike Miley and the Illinois Railway Museum

We’re approaching the 50th anniversary of an historic moment in the NBA, a moment that first made me aware of the game as a young boy. Some 30-odd years ago a school assignment, my first book report, led me to discover an unreal feat of scoring prowess from a legend (stay tuned to HP for a special report on this unmatched performance on Friday from Curtis Harris).

Some 30-odd years later another 50-year anniversary stirred similar feelings in my heart for the game of basketball.

To understand the scope of this moment you have to understand just how much the Utah Utes and BYU Cougars hate each other. The rivalry between these two schools is such that normally civilized people will stoop to attacking each other at a single mention of a recruit some years removed from even attending one or the other of these universities. It’s gotten so out of hand that each school’s athletic directors are trying to ween fans from their “Holy War.”

While the term “Holy War” is generally applied to only the football rivalry, don’t be fooled. The ugliness spans the spectrum, from any sport all the way to academics and alumni. These two groups genuinely hate each other, so much so that at a recent Sacramento Kings at Utah Jazz game this happened.  Y Fan will say they cheered because Jimmer was booed. U Fan will tell you they booed because Jimmer was cheered. An entire NBA arena was taken over by a  college rivalry spilling over nearly a year after it had all ended. Slow sports day? No problem. Just say “magic happens,” and it does — a tried and true way to fire up local interaction and reaction anytime ratings are low and reporting slow. These fanbases will leap at any opportunity to belittle their nemesis, and never forget an incident.

Except in the case of former Utah Ute Billy “The Hill” McGill. A week before Wilt dropped his 100-point bomb on the NBA, the soon-to-be number one pick in the NBA draft set a record of his own. Getting off the team bus on the BYU campus, heading into the gym for a rivalry game on February 24, 1962, averaging an NCAA-best 38 points-per-game, McGill, only the second ever African-American player for the Utes’ program, received extra motivation courtesy the Cougars.

“On the bus ride to Brigham Young, unfortunately I think I heard a kind of a word you don’t wanna hear right before I went into the gymnasium, and it was the “N” word. I kept thinking about that once we got into the locker room. [My teammates] knew about it, cause some of them heard it. I tried to push it out of my mind…but it gave me a little more incentive I think. It was like a 22-point incentive.”

Before punishing the Cougars with a 60-point retribution, as a junior in Thomas Jefferson High School in Los Angeles, McGill had been told he’d never play basketball again. Coming up in a predominantly Caucasian game at the time, he’d been told something that would “stick with him.”

“”A black player can’t be hurt. A black player don’t get hurt.’  The doctor, he told me I’d never play again…that was my junior year…[I] just destroyed my kneecap, and I never got it operated on. The doctor says “We can put an iron – iron, Tony – kneecap in. At least you’ll be able to walk halfway normal, but as far as basketball, you’re done.”

-Billy McGill with Tony Parks, 1320 KFAN

McGill, out of fear of folks finding out, folks that could keep him from the court, would rehab himself instead, never telling anyone until years later about his personal ordeal, in his own words, “loving the game of basketball so much” that he rehabilitated himself out of shear determination, dragging, crawling, and finally running around the football field and track at Thomas Jefferson High until he was able to play his beloved game again.

All through his college dominance no one would know that today McGill wouldn’t be able to enter an airport or an NBA arena without drawing the ire of a security guard with a wand had he chosen medical iron over hoop iron. McGill was a pioneer, a playground legend with a shot that would go on to make many men much more famous than he would be.

It all happened one beautiful summer day in 1955 at the Denker Playgrounds in the inner-city of Los Angeles. Back then, the royalty of the basketball world would regularly gather at Denker for spectacular summer romps. Everyone was there, and the play on this particular Saturday was dominated, as it often was in those days, by a young, spindly high school freshman from L.A.’s Thomas Jefferson High School named Billy McGill.

Holding court was never a problem for Billy, even as a ninth-grader, and people would flock to the dilapidated gym whenever he played. As the pickup games stretched on and the crowd swelled, three college stars of the day found their way to Denker and immediately claimed “winners” — Bill Russell, Wilt Chamberlain and Guy Rogers. The intensity ratcheted upwards as Russell strode onto the court, announcing to the assembled masses as he stroked his long jaw, “I’ll take the young guy on my team,” instantly recognizing the burgeoning talent of McGill.

-Bill Walton, Special to ESPN.com

That unstoppable skyhook would land McGill with the Chicago Zephyrs (now the Washington Wizards) as the number one pick in the 1962 NBA draft. With high hopes for his future, “Iron” Bill McGill would undertake his professional career, only to find himself stuck behind Walt Bellamy in a tweener’s no-man’s land.

His intended pro path wasn’t going as planned.

Quickly the word got out: “He’s a wonderful shot, but he kills you on defense.’” His critics drew up a catalog of horrors about McGill: he dribbled too high, he couldn’t get to the backboards for rebounds, he was easily faked out on defense, he looked cautiously for a spot on the floor from which he could loose his delicate, arching shots. This last fault was critical, for it gave the pros the half second needed to smother the shot before it ever got off.

-Circa November 26, 1962, SI Vault

Eight years, two leagues, and eight teams later McGill would find himself without a job or a degree, having completed only two years of academics at the U of U in his playing days, and no NBA pension since less than four of those pro-playing years had come in the league. Despite knowing so many people, McGill’s options were limited, so he was lucky to have a friend set him up with a job at Hughes Aircraft that he’d hold for 23 years until being laid off in 1995.

McGill would like a job with the NBA, but it seems the only time the league calls him is to give a speech to rookies about finishing their education.

“They have successful millionaires talk to them . . . then they have me,” he said.

He also would like a job passing along his basketball knowledge to younger players–a place like Utah would be perfect–but the Utes’ athletic director sighed again.

“With all the NCAA rules, you can’t really involve yourself much with boosters or former players unless you hire them,”[Chris] Hill said.

-Bill Plaschke, LA Times

And of course, you can’t hire a guy who has no degree, now can you? What would people say?!

So we’re left with a broke and broken pioneer, a legend full of colorful stories and history of the game who’s dying to tell you about. Upon hearing Billy McGill’s tales on KFAN with Tony Parks I immediately texted in, saying “I’ll buy that book! Where can we find find it?” That’s the sad last segment you’ll hear in the interview.

“There’s no copy. I’m going through the rigors…I’m beatin’ on doors, I’m tryin’ to get a publisher. I know that’s gonna be a big, big task, but God willing maybe some publisher out there will take a look at it. My thing is, as far as [the book] From the Hill to the Valley, I just want the people that I love…that I feel dedicated to, [to get an explanation] of what happened to me in the pros.”

-Billy McGill with Tony Parks, 1320 KFAN

Highlights of McGill’s jump hook and 60-point game

Last I’d heard, from Parks Monday afternoon, some interest had been expressed by a firm in publishing Billy’s story. I have no further details at this time, but will keep you updated as more information becomes available.

___

Why did the Washington Wizards used to be called the Chicago Zephyrs?

As far as I can tell it was for an historic rail line run by a train called the California Zephyr, to McGill’s home state. The line began in Chicago, Illinois, ending in California. Remnants of the original line are still used for freight today.

The Washington Wizards were born the Chicago Packers in 1961-62, then the Chicago Zephyrs for the 1962-63 season before moving to Baltimore as the Bullets until 1972-73. The franchise played one year as the Capital Bullets in 1973-74 before becoming the Washington Bullets until 1996-97.

___

Thanks to Mike Miley for the header photo. Check out his photostream on Flickr.

Set in Stone?

May 5, 2011 in by with 7 Comments

On Wednesday, when it was announced that Boston was finally honoring the greatest winner in the history of team sports, Bill Russell, with a statue, the Joe Louis monument in Detroit came immediately to my mind.

That photo you see there is of Joe Louis’ fist.

Surrealist René Magritte would disagree with me. He’s probably right. Just as that link doesn’t take you to a pipe, that sculpture above is not Joe Louis’ fist. It’s sculptor Robert Graham’s interpretation of Louis’ fist.

It’s the most striking statue to ever honor an athlete. Many won’t agree with that. Many hate it. That’s understandable. The fist is an abstraction. If it’s not Louis’ fist in the literal sense, it’s not even close to being how people remember the heavyweight champ.

When you think of a statue for an athlete, you envision that athlete in action. Michael Jordan’s statue outside of the United Center is more like it. It’s as dynamic as the man himself with faceless defenders — faceless, because he did it to so many it’s hard to pick just one — getting blasted in MJ’s jetstream.

But many of them are rather pedestrian recreations of the athletes themselves. The Jerry West statue is nice, but this representation is sublime.

That’s why the Louis monument is striking. His legacy and his life were as abstract as the 24-foot, 8,000-pound bronze fist that hangs from a steel pyramid in downtown Detroit. Detroit Yes explains:

So great was Joe Louis that [it's] difficult to measure the historical contribution of this immense figure who, without a close second, is by far the greatest sports figure to ever arise from Detroit and assume center stage on the world theater. It was he who helped shatter the Nazi myth of racial superiority with his dramatic defeat of German champion Max Schmeling during the rise of Nazism. In doing so and then serving his country nobly in the segregated army of World War II, he laid bare the disgraceful hypocrisy that denied Afro American (sic) athletes access to the major leagues of American sport, not to mention all Afro Americans (sic) who were and are denied the basic birthrights of American citizenship.

He did this with his fists and determination. So it is fitting that he is honored with a place at the center of his hometown with an artwork as powerful and controversial as he was.

Russell, meanwhile, came along a generation after Louis, but was just as powerful and just as controversial as Louis was. Like Louis, Russell was a singular athlete. But unlike Louis, Russell was one of the more complex and intelligent men in American sports and he deserves a unique monument to his legacy. Better people, such as Paul Flannery (@pflanns) in Boston Magazine and President Obama have suggested as much.

The question is how to best represent Russell. The Boston Globe video has a couple of nifty computer renderings showing Russell blocking a shot, Russell in a suit and Russell sitting and talking to kids. Each would be a perfectly acceptable rendering of Russell. Of all these suggestions, a statue of Russell rejecting a shot would not only represent his brilliant, game-changing play on the court, but could symbolize his rejection of racism, prejudice and injustice throughout society, and often, directed toward him.

But when I think of what the “best” Russell statue would be, I keep going back to the Louis monument as inspiration. If people want to read about what Russell accomplished, they will be inscribed on the pedestal below. Yet if people want to know who Russell was, it will take more than a statue. That’s why Russell’s statue should be akin to the Louis monument: abstract and open to differing interpretations.

Imagine Russell’s forearms and hands rising from a gigantic block of solid stone, as if rising from the Earth, reaching for the basketball and of course, grabbing it.

(I would like to see it done just to hear Tommy Heinsohn’s reaction to it.)

It would be a stark contrast to most statues of athletes, including the Bobby Orr statue in front of TD Garden. That statue captures Orr at his apex, with him flying through the air after scoring the series-clinching goal against the St. Louis Blues in 1970. Of course, that’s how fans remember Orr. There is no other way.

But how do people remember Russell? Is there one moment in his career that defines him? Russell transcends mere moments and, although the NBA Finals MVP, an individual award, is named after him, no man in American sports history has better represented the concept of team.

Something as direct as a pair of hands around a basketball could be a perfect representation of Russell’s win-first philosophy. It could be, for some, difficult to understand, just as Russell was during his life. It probably won’t happen, though. People will want to see Russell’s goateed visage. Something as simple as Russell’s hands may be too abstract a manner to represent something as tangible as Russell’s athletic excellence.

But think of those hands. Those are the hands that led the University of San Francisco to a 60-game win streak and two NCAA titles. Those are the hands that held a gold medal at the ’56 Melbourne games. Those are the hands that held five NBA MVP awards. Those are the hands that started the famed Celtics fastbreak. Those are the hands that played in 11 Game 7s and never lost one. Those are the hands that don’t have enough fingers to hold all of his NBA championship rings. Those are the hands of the first African-American coach in a major North American sport. Those are the hands that expressed his feelings when words couldn’t after the Celtics improbably beat the Lakers in Game 7 in Los Angeles for Russell’s 11th and final title. Those are the hands that earned a Presidential Medal of Freedom.

Those are some hands.

We don’t need to beatify Russell. He wasn’t perfect. After all, those were his hands that threw the pass that hit the guide wire over the hoop at the Boston Garden against the Philadelphia Warriors, that until John Havlicek stole the ball, put the Celtics seventh straight NBA title in jeopardy. Those were the hands, while coach and GM of the Sacremento Kings, that picked Pervis Ellison with the No. 1 overall pick in 1989. And those were the hands that for years famously refused to engage in the most basic interaction with fans, the signing of autographs.

There’s a reason for that. As Peter May points out, Russell and the city of Boston always had a tenuous relationship.

OK, we all think we know why it has taken this long. Russell never embraced the city of Boston when he played here — it was always “the Celtics” — and, from what we know, for pretty good reason. Boston was not a hospitable place for African-Americans in the 1950s and ’60s (or, as we would discover with court-ordered busing, in the ’70s, either). And God forbid that an African-American might be smart, outspoken, defiant and a great basketball player yet refused to sign autographs.

Vandals broke into Russell’s suburban Boston house, wrote racial epithets on the walls and left feces on his bed. Sports fans in Boston preferred the Bruins, who were pretty terrible while Russell was winning titles, or the inept Red Sox, who were the last team to integrate in Major League Baseball.

It’s not hard to understand why Russell kept many — opponents and the public alike — at arm’s length.

Yet the hands at the end of those arms helped shape modern American sports. Russell was outspoken, he was political, he was bright and he didn’t allow people to compromise or underestimate that intelligence just because he played basketball. A statue representing Russell’s hands isn’t as much about what Russell brought to his teammates, to Boston and to the public at large, but it’s also about what we as fans bring to Russell and to our sports heroes. How do we think of them? What does they represent? How did they achieve it? Why is it important?

Bill Russell sculpted one of the more extraordinary, American lives with those hands. It’s well past time we reach out and honor them.

Nate Thurmond Talks Quadruple Doubles, Provides Some Perspective

April 23, 2010 in by with 11 Comments

While I was watching the post-game press conferences on NBATV after the games tonight (yes, I’m aware that I have too much free time on my hands), I saw on the crawl that Dwight Howard is now the first player to ever lead the league in both rebounding and blocked shots in back-to-back seasons. In fact, he’s the only guy to ever claim two rebounding titles and two shot-blocking titles. (He’s also the youngest player to ever win two DPOY trophies.)

I was already aware of all this, but it was a reminder of a great accomplishment by a guy who still probably doesn’t get as much respect as he deserves

But it’s also definitely not true.

See, the NBA unfortunately didn’t start recording blocked shots until the 1973-74 season, which I’m sure you already knew, and guys like Wilt and Russell almost certainly led the league in both of these stat categories on multiple occasions. From all the accounts of those who watched these legends play, they would have games where they blocked 20 shots. And no one would even really notice. That really puts Dwight’s 9-block Game 1 against the Bobcats into perspective, eh? Attaboy, Superman, and you’re the undisputed DPOY and all that (although my boy Josh Smith did amazing things this season), but let’s not get it twisted and start thinking that Dwight is controlling the backboard like no one else ever has.

As I was Google-fact checking to make sure that 1973-74 was indeed the inaugural season of the block-recording era, I came across a must-read column from 2006 by Hall of Famer Nate Thurmond that punctuates this point perfectly. (By the way, it truly pains me that I feel like I have to identify Thurmond with the “Hall of Famer” tag. But such is life in 2010 in the NBA internet universe.)

Nate was the “first” player to ever record a quadruple-double, and while he’s honored to be remembered as the first guy to ever do it, he also thinks it’s a somewhat silly label.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m truly honored. It’s certainly a rare accomplishment. It took 12 years before the feat was ever accomplished again, and only three guys have posted a quadruple-double since I had mine.

But you know and I know and any good basketball fan knows that there were plenty of quadruple-doubles back in the 1960s. When I first came into the league, I played alongside with Wilt Chamberlain, and there were nights he and I were playing volleyball out there on the floor.

He goes on to mention that Russell certainly had tons of quadruple-doubles and that Oscar Robertson probably had plenty of his own, using steals instead of blocks as the fourth category. There’s one other guy that Nate also knows had a lot of unrecorded-quadruple doubles as well.

He is the only other player aside from Wilt to ever average more than 20 ppg and 20 rpg in a season.

And his name is Nate Thurmond.

And hey, don’t forget about me. You think I never had a quadruple-double before 1973-74, when the NBA first started recording blocks and steals? Let me put it this way: I had 12 blocks in my quadruple-double game, and it was my 12th year in the league. That’s with two bad knees and more than 30,000 minutes pounding NBA floors, night after night. You bet I had plenty of quadruple-doubles before 1974.

I’m not trying to brag, but there were games where it was ridiculous the number of shots I blocked. When I was young, there were nights when guys couldn’t come close to getting shots off on me. Only Russell could have blocked more in his career.

I’d really like to know where I stand with blocks for my entire career. When you look at the list of career blocked shots leaders today, Russell and I are nowhere to be found. Quite frankly, that list is filled with pretenders to the title, all because the NBA didn’t record blocks for any of Bill’s and the majority of my career. Sure, I could put up points, but my game was really defense, so I’m a little disappointed that most of my blocks were never recorded.

Please do yourself a giant favor and go read the entire article. He discusses his entire career in depth, talking openly about his thoughts on being traded from San Francisco Warriors to the Chicago Bulls. It was bittersweet because he didn’t want to leave the Bay, but he also thought heading to Chicago was a good opportunity to play for a team that really wanted him.

And how exactly did Nate show his new Windy City brethren that the feeling was mutual?

Oh, just by, ya know, dropping a quadruple-double in his first-ever game as a Bull.

Looking back, I remember I was busy and was very active in the game, but I didn’t think about it in terms of a quadruple-double. We went into overtime, won the game, and I remember thinking it was a great way to start the season. That’s what made it so special.

One thing I distinctly remember was going back to my apartment after the game—I was just dead. I didn’t realize I had numbers spread out like that, across four categories until the next morning. It was my 12th year, and from that standpoint, the quadruple-double was just another game. But, as I look back now, I realize just how special a performance it was. At the time, nobody even talked about triple-doubles, so no one was really aware that I’d done something unprecedented.

As we all watch in amazement at what Dwight Howard can do on the court, let’s just make sure we’re clear on one thing: Just like Nate’s quad-dub, Superman’s accomplishment may be officially unprecedented, but it’s not actually unprecedented.

It’s sort of like his nickname in that sense.