KC Jones was a Welcome Change after Fitch

1984 NBA Finals

K.C. Jones claimed he was ''very happy.''

There was no hard evidence of it.

He sat on the Celtics' bench, during their 111-102 Game 7 win over the Lakers last night in Boston Garden. That would not seem so unusual except that Jones is the Celtics' coach. Coaches do not sit anymore.

Well, occasionally K.C. would get up and make a G-rated point to referees Earl Strom and Darell Garretson. But it was not something that would attract the CBS cameras. Jones is believed to be the first coach to win the NBA championship while keeping the top button buttoned on his sport coat.

Just how would the quiet man celebrate?

''I'll go home and baby-sit,'' Jones said, ''so my wife can go out and celebrate.'' ''Kase,'' as Celtics fans and players call him, has seen fire and rain. Nine years ago he coached the Wes Unseld-Elvin Hayes Washington Bullets to the best record in basketball. But the Bullets were smoked 4-0 in the finals by Golden State. The CBS cameras invaded one of his final timeouts and heard K.C. tell the Bullets . . . nothing. ''What we got?'' Jones asked, as millions snickered. ''What we got?'' As it turned out, it got Jones fired.

Jones now says he already had instructed the Bullets, and that the camera got there too late. Whatever, it was a particuarly leaden cross for one of the NBA's all-time defensive players and team men to bear. Don Nelson got him a job as a Milwaukee assistant for a while, then Jones returned to Boston to assist Bill Fitch. Jones became friends with Larry Bird, Cedric Maxwell, Kevin McHale and the emerging Celtics, but no one fingered him as head coaching material.

Then, last year, Fitch turned the pressure cooker a notch too high and the Celtics evaporated in the Eastern semifinals, losing four in a row to Milwaukee. Fitch soon left. Harry Mangurian put the club up for sale. McHale, a prospective free agent, veered dangerously close to signing with the Knicks. Bird's contract was up in '84. The Celtics appeared in such turmoil that catching the defending champion Sixers seemed out of the question. The question, rather, was survival.

So Jones became the head coach. ''I knew the guys, I've stolen a few plays here and there,'' he said. ''I never thought I'd be a head coach again, but I had to take assistant jobs because they were there. This job kind of fell into my lap. Rather, I should say, I walked into this mess.''

What did Jones say in his first team meeting?

''I don't remember,'' he said.

But Donald Gaston bought the Celtics, signed both McHale and Bird. And Jones's actions turned out to be decisive. He replaced Fitch's starting backcourt of Danny Ainge and Quinn Buckner with the far more harmonious combination of Dennis Johnson (swiped from Phoenix for Rick Robey) and Gerald Henderson. He played the same rotations all year long, letting the Celtics sleep peacefully each night with full knowledge of their roles. He let Bird and McHale and Johnson get the attention - one-liners, a staple of Fitch's career, are not his thing. Even after this championship game, the winning coach was not even fully encircled by reporters.

''The players, they're the ones who deserve the attention,'' Jones said. ''I just rode their coattails all year long. I didn't do much of anything, really.''

The Celtics fell behind the Lakers 2-1 with Jones observing inertia, with the 6-2 Henderson guarding the 6-9 Magic Johnson. But then Dennis Johnson, at a combative 6-4, took over and harassed Magic for the last four games, three of which Boston won.

''That was something the media wanted,'' Jones pooh-poohed. ''It wasn't a big factor. Everybody wanted that matchup to go along with Bird and Magic and (Robert) Parish and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. So it finally happened.''

Jones was asked about an MVP for the series.

''I'd have to go with Larry,'' he said. ''I mean, we had other guys. Parish was the foundation. And (Cedric) Maxwell, I was hoping he'd play a big game tonight and he came through for us.

''I've won championships here before, playing for the Celtics. The fans always come out on the court. The only thing about being the coach is that I'm a little closer to the exit, that's all.''

He talked about how the Celtics stopped the Lakers' running game, about how he encouraged them ''to make three or four passes, move the ball, move their bodies'' when the Lakers got close. He was talking about other things, obligingly but not enthusiastically, when losing coach Pat Riley reached over with a hand. Jones shook it and smiled.

''You deserved it,'' said Riley, looking tired. ''You deserved it. Congratulations.''

Jones nodded, and faced his questioners again.

''I hadn't changed that much in nine years,'' he said. ''I've been around a long time. I'm an expert on the game.''