The connection at first was obvious, but superficial.
Both were guards.
Both wore number 25.
Both coached the Celtics.
Doc preferred coaching veterans over kiddies. KC was hired to lead a group of veterans back to the promised land.
But as I read more about KC’s career with the Celtics, the more I became intrigued by some of the less obvious similarities.
In the first two months of the 1985-86 championship season, KC was criticized for not using a consistent rotation. One night Jerry Sichting would play 7 minutes, the next night he would play 28. One night Sam Vincent would play a prominent role, only to disappear for the next week.
Doc has been accused of shuffling his lineups and doling out inconsistent minutes faster than you can say Raef LaFrentz.
Later KC was criticized for “going small,” not infrequently using Dennis Johnson, Danny Ainge, and Jerry Sichting all at the same time. Scott Wedman complained he was being asked to play power forward even though he was undersized and overpowered. Doc’s version of small ball, using shooting guard/small forward Paul Pierce at the power forward, has been a constant target of his critics. Expect to hear similar complaints about using James Posey against more physical big men.
Even when KC went big, critics argued that KC’s use of the Twin Tower lineup of Robert Parish and Bill Walton needlessly exposed the Celtics defense to quicker, more athletic teams such as the Atlanta Hawks. Last year, Doc’s critics bemoaned efforts he made to pair Al Jefferson and Kendrick Perkins because they were too slow to guard both the four and five spots.
In 1988 John Havlicek criticized Jones for not designing more plays for Parish and Ainge, observing that Parish and Ainge were usually a last resort who had to find their own offense. Doc has told the media that he doesn’t run plays for various players, but instead allows them to find their own opportunities.
Despite a .630 winning percentage for the Washington Bullets in the 1970s, including a trip to the finals, KC was fired in part because he allegedly couldn’t diagram a play, and wasn’t much better at making in-game adjustments to opponents’ counters. When the Celtics first hired KC to serve as an assistant coach to Bill Fitch, Fitch would humiliate Jones in front of the team by telling players when they got done talking to Jones that they should ignore what he said and talk to Fitch about “how it’s really done.” Bill Walton pointed out that even when KC diagrammed a play, Bird often disregarded it (http://lexnihilnovi.blogspot.com/2007/10/celtics-need-coach-like-kc.html).
To be charitable, Doc does not have a stellar reputation for making intelligent in-game adjustments or for diagramming Xs and Os .
To some extent, all of this is old news.
But the story is far from over.
The season is only two games old, and already Celtics fans are being treated to the next round of Doc criticisms. In Sunday’s overtime win against the Toronto Raptors, the Fab Three all played well over forty minutes, with Ray Allen playing just one minute short of 50. “We can’t play these guys over 40 minutes a game every night and expect them to be in any kind of shape for the playoffs,” one pundit observed.
Keep in mind Doc Rivers didn’t even coach the game against the Raptors, missing it due to the death of his father. No matter. A time will come when Doc needs to use the Fab Three for extended minutes, and the refrain will be repeated: He’s running them into the ground.
All of this would sound very familiar to Mr. KC Jones. After the 1988 playoff loss to the Detroit Pistons, Bob Ryan wrote:
Five couldn't beat seven or eight, and it certainly couldn't beat nine. The sad reality of the Celtics' playoff demise is that this much-discussed bench crisis never had to be.
This could hardly be termed second-guessing, either, not when everyone watching this team since the fall has recognized that in Reggie Lewis and Brad Lohaus, the Celtics finally had those fresh, young and talented bodies people have been longing for in these parts. Could they have made a difference against the armed might of Chuck Daly's well-stocked Pistons? Probably not. They weren't ready to play. Could they have made a difference if they were ready to play? Ah, that's an entirely different matter.
The problem was that K.C. Jones was not merely a conservative basketball man, but an arch-conservative. If he were a cardinal in the Roman Catholic Church, he'd be in the curia. To him, no rookie glass was ever anything but 99-percent empty, and nothing either Lewis or Lohaus did was going to alter that philosophy.
On the night of Nov. 21, Lohaus came off the bench in Hartford and had 10 points and eight rebounds in the second quarter against the Chicago Bulls. Shouldn't that have told K.C. something? Guess not. On Jan. 4, he had to come in as a backup center in Utah when circumstances dictated help. He played outstanding pivot defense against Mel Turpin, who had been killing the Celtics. He played 21 strong minutes and was praised lavishly by one and all, including Jones. You can look it up. So, what happened? The team returned home Jan. 6 and Lohaus played nine minutes against New York. By March 15, K.C. had decided he wasn't going to fool with the rookie any more. He apparently had decided that Fred Roberts' limited game and well-documented inconsistency was worth having as his third forward more than a 7-foot kid who could shoot, catch the ball, run, rebound a bit, block shots and generate home-crowd enthusiasm with his hustle.
Then there is Reggie Lewis. His story is perhaps even more perplexing. He never really got much quality time, but when he did he was often an asset. On the night of Feb. 4, K.C. inserted him in the second quarter against Milwaukee. Reggie went 2 for 2 and then sat down. That would represent his last appearance in a game where the issue was in doubt until the fourth Atlanta playoff game, more than three months later. Desperate at that moment for a body, Jones threw him into the game during the third period. Reggie wound up playing 11 minutes and shooting 4 for 6 as the Celtics chopped an 18-point lead to two before falling back.
That's truly incredible, isn't it? This kid had three months of rust to scrape off, and he was able to do it, on the road, in a playoff game. It's very hard to imagine how he couldn't have averaged 8-12 points per game as a steady sub for this team.
Criticizing K.C. Jones, aka Mr. Nice Guy, for anything is like attacking Mother Teresa. But the sad legacy of his final year coaching this team is the pitiful bench situation. He had a great opportunity to blend in the new with the old, and he blew it. Next year, the veterans will be a year older. A championship may not be attainable. This one was.
Mother Teresa, huh?
As much as the media loves Doc Rivers, even he hasn’t been compared to Mother Teresa. Nonetheless, one more point of similarity. Doc and KC—nice guys that can’t coach.
I’m not going to debate the merits of the criticisms against either of these gentlemen. But I will conclude with what I hope is the final parallel.
KC Jones was the last African-American head coach to win an NBA title, that is, unless Doc Rivers wins one this year.
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