5/8/1988
Suppose we table the weird, albeit typical, way in which the news of K.C. Jones' impending retirement as coach of the Celtics was discovered, and focus instead on his rather remarkable accomplishments as a National Basketball Association coach.
Yes, he has been blessed with two pretty good assignments. His Washington Bullets teams had Westley Unseld, Elvin Hayes and Phil Chenier. His Celtic teams have featured Larry Bird, Kevin McHale, Robert Parish, Dennis Johnson, Danny Ainge and, for one golden season, a fellow named Walton. As such, he has always been dismissed as strictly a button-pusher by people not familiar with the oft-quirky psyches of professional athletes.
K.C. is difficult to analyze because he has such a relaxed demeanor; it's difficult to believe he is on top of everything. And to some extent, he isn't. There couldn't possibly be another NBA coach in the past two decades less knowledgeable or less interested in pursuit of NBA minutiae. He doesn't know players' alma maters; he doesn't keep track of individual player perambulations; and he doesn't stay up until all hours awaiting the late scores from the West Coast. And he surely doesn't wear out his VCR with incessant viewing of game tapes.
All he does is show up for practices and games with more than 30 years of practical basketball experience, extracting good performances from players who would walk over hot coals for him.
So maybe he wouldn't be the ideal guy to launch an expansion franchise with a maniacal effort. There are horses for courses, and, for the last five years, K.C. Jones and the Celtics have been a good match.
What the Celtics most appreciate about K.C. Jones is he is a "we" guy. "You never hear him say, 'This is my team,' " says Red Auerbach. "It's always our team."
K.C. welcomes, not tolerates, input. He never claims to have all the answers.
"I really appreciate his open-mindedness and willingness to get as many points of view as possible," says Celtics general manager Jan Volk. "Ultimately, he will make the final decision himself, but he will do it with the most amount of information he can get. But he will always bear the responsibility of that decision."
Because K.C. has so often been portrayed as a "nice" guy, there is a misconception he is soft. "K.C.," submits Volk, "is not so much a 'nice' guy as he is a 'good' guy. Nice sometimes connotes wimpishness, and that's not K.C. He can be very tough. He comes from as competitive a base as anybody. But he's not abstractly tough. He doesn't feel he has to prove how tough he is to anybody. Many other coaches are continually asserting their power and authority. K.C. can be as powerful and authoritative as he wants to be -- and everybody around here knows that."
Says Auerbach, "K.C. never coached out of fear, the way some coaches do. He coached out of confidence. Everybody thinks K.C. is this calm, cool, low-key guy. The truth is, it hurts him as much as anybody to lose. I like his approach. He doesn't rant and rave. We've talked about this many times. He can blow his stack when it comes time to get his point across. The guys who rant and rave continually, they don't understand that their teams succeed in spite of them, not because of them."
Auerbach has always had a particular fondness for K.C. because he knows how hard K.C. worked to get where he is. "Over the years, he's always been overshadowed," Red says. "In college, he was overshadowed by Russell. On the Celtics, he was overshadowed by Cousy, Sharman and Sam (Jones). He always had a great work ethic. He'd never complain. He'd play hurt, and he'd always play the best he could. I always noticed that."
Part of K.C.'s well-documented unwillingness to placate rookies and young players in general stems from his unique experience. K.C. was a sub for his first five seasons. Not until Bob Cousy retired in 1963 did he get a full-time starting job. He expects rookies to play as he did, without complaining and as hard as they can, whether they get 30 minutes or 30 seconds.
Well, it's a different world now. There are agents whispering in kids' ears, big salaries available to front-line players and nationally televised games being beamed back to players' hometowns. And K.C., as did all players of his time, never had the luxury of a guaranteed contract. Perhaps even a young K.C. would grow restless in 1988 if denied playing time, just because.
His non-use of young players aside, K.C. cannot be faulted for simply trying to do what he felt he was hired to do; namely, win as many games as possible and put the team in the best position to get through the playoffs. I'll be the very first to admit that in November I advocated conceding the regular-season honors to Detroit and Atlanta. K.C. never considered that approach. Now he's got the No. 1 seed in the East once again, and a far better-equipped team to go after a championship than he had last year, thanks to Volk's wizardry in the Jim Paxson deal.
K.C. may be mystifying to rookies, but there never has been a veteran player not on his wavelength. I wish I had a buck for every time a Celtic has cited K.C. for treating him with respect. K.C.'s loyalty is legendary. Witness his fierce defense of Greg Kite whenever anyone even remotely disparaged the hard-working backup center.
"That's a rare enough trait in general society," says Volk, "and it's practically unique in a business where coaches who see their career hanging on the performances of their players. He's always sensitive to the players as people. K.C. will never demean a player, even if he is disappointed in a performance."
The W's and L's are evidence of a coach's existence. But a coaching record is like footprints in the sand. Who really cares? K.C. Jones inspires devotion. That's a true legacy.
Here's what's been happening with the Pistons:
(1) Bill Laimbeer is having the worst series of his career. The Bullets are guarding him with Bernard King, and he's still throwing in only 11 points per game. On many occasions 6-foot-4-inch Darrell Walker winds up with him on a switch and the Bullets don't even bother to switch back when given the opportunity. In one key moment of Game 4 Wednesday night, Walker blocked a Laimbeer baseline move. In the biggest moment of all, down 2 with 19 seconds to go, Isiah Thomas gave an uncovered Laimbeer a pass for a foul-line jumper and Laimbeer passed it right back. "He got rid of the ball as if it had chicken pox," said one observer.
(2) Adrian Dantley is very unhappy. In Game 3 he was sick, but he started anyway, and piled up 14 points in the first quarter. He wound up playing a total of 1 minute 32 seconds in the fourth quarter and overtime of a Detroit loss. "I was more sick sitting on the bench than I was playing," he grumbled.
(3) Neither Joe Dumars nor Vinnie Johnson are doing much. Through four games, they have a combined 13-for-54 shooting mark. In Game 4, Dumars played 22 minutes and Johnson played 9. Dennis Rodman came in as a guard when Thomas picked up a third foul with 8:36 remaining in the third period, and stayed out there for the remainder of the game.
(4) James Edwards has been useless. The 7-2 softie was tried as a starter when Rick Mahorn was out of the lineup, and he couldn't cut it. He picked up a DNP in Game 4, even with Laimbeer stinking up the joint.
The question is: Can the Pistons stop pointing fingers and regroup, even if they get by the Bullets today?
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