Hat Tip to the Phoenix Suns (40 Years Later)

I vividly remember watching the 1976 NBA Finals, which pitted the Boston Celtics against the Phoenix Suns. The Suns had finished the season two games over .500, while the Boston Celtics, well, they were the Boston Celtics. They had a roster that boasted former MVP Dave Cowens, former NBA Sixth Man John Havlicek, rebounding master Paul Silas, plus Jo Jo White, Charlie Scott and an underrated bench that included Don Nelson, Steve Kuberski, Glenn McDonald, Jim Ard, and Kevin Stacom.

The Celtics easily took the first two games at home, 98-87 in game 1 and 105-90 in game 2. Everyone immediately started talking sweep. The Suns answered this talk by taking the next two games on their home court, 105-98 and 109-107. That brought the series back to Boston tied at 2.

Celtics' fans blew a gasket. What the heck is going on with the green? They can't handle these bunch of no-name bums from Arizona? The Boston Celtics suck! Sadly, I was one of these Celtics' fans. This should have been a sweep, I said to myself, and now, all of a sudden, the Celtics had to win game 5 or face elimination on the road.

Game 5 was a microcosm for the entire series. I won't give you a blow-by-blow account of the game, which most observers consider the greatest playoff game in NBA history, but I will say this: that game was a testament to the heart of a champion, the heart of a team that just wouldn't lay down no matter how far they got behind or how much time was left on the clock.

I'm talking about the Phoenix Suns.

The game started with the Celtics storming to a 22-point first quarter lead. The Celtics lead dwindled by three in the second quarter. During the third and fourth quarters, the Suns whittled the lead further, but still trailed by 7 to 14 points most of the way. Down 5 with a minute to go (I REPEAT, DOWN 5 WITH A MINUTE TO GO and no three point line to help them cut the lead in a hurry), the Suns staged a furious comeback to tie the game and send it into OT.

During the first extra frame, the Celtics promptly took command with a couple of quick baskets. The Suns meanwhile didn't score a point for the first three minutes of OT #1. Worse, rookie of the year Alvin Adams fouled out and Paul Westphal suffered what looked like a serious leg injury. But next thing you know, Westphal is back on the court limping around, the Suns make a couple steals, you look up at the scoreboard, and the game is tied with one minute to go in the first overtime.

This is pretty much how the rest of the game went. Every time you wanted the Suns to lay down and die, they summoned up the heart and intestinal fortitude to tie the game, including this all-time punch in the gut delivered by Garfield Heard. Now contrast this with the LA Lakers, who notoriously quit competing against the Celtics twice in the same season, once during game 6 of the NBA Finals, and once six months earlier at Staples.

I'd like to call the 1976 Suns a rag tag bunch of overachievers, but that would be an injustice to their memory. What they really were was a team of consummate professionals who understood the game of basketball and the heart of competition both come down to one word, D-E-S-I-R-E. As a young Celtics' fan, you just wanted the Suns to roll over and wave the white flag. You wanted the green to win. The green did win, but it wasn't without overcoming one of the most relentless teams I've ever seen play--the 1976 Phoenix Suns.

This team from Arizona deserves more praise than they get from basketball historians. The reason they don't get any respect is because that team as then constituted never made a return trip to the Finals. What happened you might ask? Bill Walton (1977), Dennis Johnson (1978, 1979), and Magic Johnson (1980). No one else was getting out of the West those years except for the Blazers, Sonics, and Lakers.

Dave Cowens: More Intense than KG?

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fe·ro·cious

adj.

1. Extremely savage; fierce. See Synonyms at cruel.

2. Marked by unrelenting intensity; extreme: ferocious heat.

ma·ni·a·cal also ma·ni·ac

adj.

1. Suggestive of or afflicted with insanity: a maniacal frenzy.

2. Characterized by excessive enthusiasm or excitement

There was no ordinary, garden-variety rebound for Dave Cowens. Every time he came down with a missed shot, the elbows were out, the legs were spread, and the nostrils flared. Think Bill Russell in this famous picture. Cowens took no prisoners. That sounds like a cliche. But if you even looked at him funny, the bumping started, and, if you didn't like that, the shoving and elbowing followed.

You would not get the upper hand on Dave Cowens. Pure and simple. Example: Cowens faced off against Wilt Chamberlain four times during the season after the Lakers went 69-13 on their way to the championship. The Celtics won all four games, with Cowens averaging 31 points and 19 rebounds a game in those four contests. The Lakers' run was one-and-done, if Cowens had anything to say about it.

Bob Ryan once wrote:

Dave Cowens stands 6 feet 8 1/2 inches, and even 20 years ago that was considered a bit runty for a center. Indeed, it was a raging local talk show controversy in the fall of 1970. This kid Cowens is OK, but he's not really a center. But Cowens was a center, all right, because he believed he was a center with every pore of his body. "Being a center was everything to me," he admits. "It's the best position. Simple mathematics. There are two guards and two forwards, but only one center. You're in the middle of everything."

He relished the play-within-a-play concept of dueling with the rival center as part of the grand spectacle. "That's where it starts," he explains, "with the one-on-one confrontation. It doesn't matter if it's Kareem, Wilt, Tom Boerwinkle or Dennis Awtrey. Start with you and him, and then factor in the team strategy. You live off the competition."

Nobody in the history of the NBA ever competed more ferociously, recklessly and honorably than Dave Cowens -- nobody. Anybody can expend energy with a championship in sight, so when Cowens belly-flopped after that loose ball he had knocked away from Oscar Robertson to create a crucial turnover in Game 6 of the 1974 Finals, he was better than anyone else only in that he was able to execute.

But there were few present in Asheville, N.C., on an October night in 1974, and there was absolutely nothing at stake when he spotted Fatty Taylor half the length of the court after the latter's steal in the waning first-half seconds of the first exhibition game and caught up in time to block the shot. Cowens tumbled into the basket's superstructure and broke his foot, causing him to miss the first 17 games of the season. It was at once an unmakeable and irrational play. It was, therefore, pure Dave Cowens.

If you have a chance, buy this set of Celtics' DVDs. They include a bunch of old Celtics' games, plus tons of footage from all of the eras. The game footage of Dave Cowens is captivating. You are left with the impression that KG's intensity pales in comparison.

My attitude was, "Let's see what these players are all about. I knew a Wilt Chamberlain could overwhelm me on offense", but I said, "Let's just see how hard these guys want to work." I think they got pissed at me because I wanted to work hard. They weren't used to somebody who played the way I did. I'd be running them, and after a while they'd think, "The hell with this." That's intimidation, when you're in condition and you can run somebody all the time. That, to me, is true intimidation. If every time you're down court you're right in a guy's face, if every time you're boxing him him out - I mean every time - it gets to a lot of people.

--#18

Jimmy Ard

The star of the third overtime of game 5 of the 1976 NBA Finals was without a doubt Glenn McDonald. He came off the bench to score 6 points, two of them on late free throws, snare a rebound, and draw a key foul (though his turnover in the last minute often gets ignored).

But what about Jim Ard? A career .662 free throw shooter, Ard stood at the line with less than a minute to play in the final frame, Celtics up 4, their biggest lead since mid-way through the fourth quarter (or a really long time ago). All he did was hit both free throws. Good thing he did. The Celtics only won by 2, to take a 3-2 lead heading back to Phoenix for game 6.

This is why Celtics fans obsess over how Doc and Danny plan to fill the spots at the end of the bench. Role players matter.

Here it is:

Hat Tip to the Phoenix Suns (33 Years Later)

I vividly remember watching the 1976 NBA Finals, which pitted the Boston Celtics against the Phoenix Suns. The Suns had finished the season two games over .500, while the Boston Celtics, well, they were the Boston Celtics. They had a rotation that boasted former MVP Dave Cowens, former NBA Sixth Man John Havlicek, rebounding master Paul Silas, starting guards Jo Jo White, Charlie Scott, plus an underrated bench that included Don Nelson, Steve Kuberski, Glenn McDonald, Jim Ard, and Kevin Stacom.

The Celtics easily took the first two games at home, 98-87 in game 1 and 105-90 in game 2. Everyone immediately started talking sweep. The Suns answered this talk by taking the next two games on their home court, 105-98 and 109-107. That brought the series back to Boston tied at 2.

Celtics' fans blew a gasket. What the heck is going on with the green? They can't handle these bunch of no-names bums from Arizona? The Boston Celtics suck! Sadly, I was one of these Celtics' fans. This should have been a sweep, I said to myself, and now, all of a sudden, the Celtics had to win game 5 or face elimination on the road.

Game 5 was a microcosm for the entire series. I won't give you a blow-by-blow account of the game, which most observers consider the greatest playoff game in NBA history, but I will say this: that game was a testament to the heart of a champion, the heart of a team that just wouldn't lay down no matter how far they got behind or how much time was left on the clock.

I'm talking about the Phoenix Suns.

The game started with the Celtics storming to a 22-point first quarter lead. The Celtics lead dwindled by three in the second quarter. During the third and fourth quarters, the Suns whittled the lead further, but still trailed by 7 to 14 points most of the way. Down 5 with a minute to go (I REPEAT, DOWN 5 WITH A MINUTE TO GO and no three point line to help them cut the lead in a hurry), the Suns staged a furious comeback to tie the game and send it into OT.

During the first extra frame, the Celtics promptly took command with a couple of quick baskets. The Suns meanwhile didn't score a point for the first three minutes of OT #1. Worse, rookie of the year Alvin Adams fouled out and Paul Westphal suffered what looked like a serious leg injury. But next thing you know, Westphal is back on the court limping around, the Suns make a couple steals, you look up at the scoreboard, and the game is tied with one minute to go in the first overtime.

This is pretty much how the rest of the game went. Every time you wanted the Suns to lay down and die, they summoned up the heart and intestinal fortitude to tie the game, including this all-time punch in the gut delivered by Garfield Heard. Now contrast this with the LA Lakers, who notoriously quit competing against the Celtics twice in the same season, once during game 6 of the NBA Finals, and once six months earlier at Staples.

I'd like to call the 1976 Suns a rag-tag bunch of overachievers, but that would be an injustice to their memory. What they really were was a team of consummate professionals who understood the game of basketball and the heart of competition both come down to one word, D-E-S-I-R-E. As a young Celtics' fan, you just wanted the Suns to roll over and wave the white flag. You wanted the green to win. The green did win, but it wasn't without overcoming one of the most relentless teams I've ever seen play--the 1976 Phoenix Suns.

This team from Arizona deserves more praise than they get from basketball historians. The reason they don't get any respect is because that team as then constituted never made a return trip to the Finals. What happened, you might ask? Bill Walton (1977), Dennis Johnson (1978, 1979), and Magic Johnson (1980) happened. No one else was getting out of the West those years except for the Blazers, Sonics, and Lakers.

Game 6, 1976 NBA Finals (Part 13)

Game 6, 1976 NBA Finals (Part 12)

Game 6, 1976 NBA Finals (Part 11)

Game 6, 1976 NBA Finals (Part 10)

Game 6, 1976 NBA Finals (Part 9)

Game 6, 1976 NBA Finals (Part 8)

Game 6, 1976 NBA Finals (Part 7)

Game 6, 1976 NBA Finals (Part 6)

Game 6, 1976 NBA Finals (Part 5)

Game 6, 1976 NBA Finals (Part 4)

Game 6, 1976 NBA Finals (Part 3)

Game 6, 1976 NBA Finals (Part 2)

Game 6, 1976 NBA Finals (Part 1)

The Cowens-Era Celtics Deserve More Respect

The 1974 and the 1976 Celtics were my teams. I became a Celtics' fan on day one of the 1974 Finals. Cowens v. Jabbar. Celtics v. Bucks. The Bucks were the prohibitive favorites. The Celtics didn't stand a chance. That was enough for me. I'm rooting for the Celtics. The memories are so vivid that I even remember the pair of shoes my parents bought for me when we went out for dinner before game 1 started.

Until the 1985-86 season, the two best Celtics teams I ever saw were the 1974 and 1976 teams. The 1981 team was good, but didn't play basketball at a consistently high level. The 1984 team was fortunate to walk away with a banner. You could say the same thing about the 1974 Celtics, who won the championship only after going the full seven games, or the 1976 Celtics, who lost two in a row in Phoenix, and required three overtimes to keep them from going down 3-2, heading back to Phoenix. Still, the 1970s Celtics champions exuded excellence and superiority, and you expected them to win.

Case in point.

Watching game 5 last night, the first quarter began with a Celtics steamrolling their way to a 20-4 lead. Paul Silas, of all people, was leading the way. Fifteen footers, seventeen footers, driving layups. Silas was a man possessed. "Phoenix Suns coach John McCleod may have to reconsider his game plan if Paul Silas continues to assert himself offensively," said Rick Barry, who was providing color for the game. You can almost hear Mark Jackson echo those sentiments about Leon Powe during game 2 of the 2008 NBA Finals.

Just when you figured the Celtics' run would stop, it continued. The Celtics began zipping passes around the horn, running give-and-goes, and pick-and-rolls, all the while Dave Cowens is dominating the glass on both ends. 36-18 at the end of one. One of the best exhibitions of pure basketball that I have ever seen, including the infamous 36-6 quarter against the Hawks in the 1986 Eastern Conference Semis. The 1970s Celtics' championship teams could hang with any Celtics' team in history.

Which is why it surprises me that neither the 1974 nor the 1976 team makes Bob Ryan's list of best Celtics' teams. Yes, the 1972-73 Celtics make the list. But, Bob, they didn't win the title! How do they make the list and neither the 1974 or 1976 teams do? Ditto for the 1985 and 1987 teams. I mean, come on.

Back to the Celtics-Suns game.

Midway through the second quarter, we see back-up center Jim Ard dipsy-doo his way through the paint for a finger roll. Someone tell me the name of a back-up center on the 1985 or 1987 squads who could do that (and don't say Bill Walton, cuz he was useless in 1987). A couple minutes later Glenn McDonald drains an 18-footer, nothing but net. But for McDonald's heroics in OT (he scored 6 points in the final two minutes of the third overtime. He also grabbed a defensive rebound, drew a foul, and sank to free throws to clinch the 128-126 victory) , the Celtics probably don't win the game. Using McDonald at the three allows Hondo to move to the back court. Hmmm. A 6-7 off guard with off-the-chart skills and a championship pedigree. I don't think the 1985 or 1987 teams had anything like that.

One of these two 1970s championship teams deserves a top-five mention in Celtics' lore. I don't care which one. But one of them deserves some love.

I Apologize, Dave Cowens

Six jerseys hang on the wall in my basement, only one of which is from the 1970s Celtics. It belongs to John Havlicek. This is strange, because when I started playing basketball, I patterned my game after Dave Cowens. The first sports book I bought was a biography of Dave Cowens. If a magazine had Cowens on the cover, I bought it. So it is strange that in my older age, I no longer view Cowens with as much esteem.

After watching the first quarter of game 5 of the 1976 NBA Finals, I remembered what happened. Five months after winning the NBA title against the Phoenix Suns, Cowens took a "Leave of Absence," turning his back on my beloved Boston Celtics.During the 1978-79 season, Cowens coached the Celtics, and then quit that job, too, after posting a 27-41 record. Before the 1980-81 season began, Cowens announced his retirement, turning his back on a team that this time was on the cusp of a championship. Finally, when Cowens decided to come out of retirement, he chose to play for the Milwaukee Bucks instead of the Celtics.

As it turns out, Cowens' had reasons to do what he did, good reasons. But as a kid, I didn't care about those reasons, all I cared about was the fact that he quit. No hero of mine was a quitter or a flake.Reflecting on his reasons for quitting today, I can hardly blame him. When the 1976-77 season began, his partner in the pivot, Paul Silas, had been replaced by yahoos Sidney Wicks and Curtis Rowe. When Cowens retired as a coach, he just couldn't take losing with such a sorry bunch of players on the roster. When he retired as a player the first time, he only had one good leg. And when he came out of retirement, after his injured leg started feeling better, the Celtics needed someone to guard Andrew Toney, and Quinn Buckner was the guy. As a result, Red Auerbach convinced Dave he'd be better off playing for Nellie in Wisconsin.

So, Dave Cowens, I apologize for holding a grudge against you over the last 30 years.

My bad.

What you did makes sense to grown-ups confronted by grown-up problems.

It just didn't make sense to a kid in his early teens.