Auerbach Silencing the Sceptics

December 6, 1979 Red Auerbach hardly knows where to begin. The Boston Celtic president has been so smart recently, after being told for two years how dumb he was, that even he finds it a bit disgusting.

Red on Russell v. Bird

People are always asking me, "Who's the best player you ever saw?"

I tell them that's not a fair question. There are so many factors you have to consider: The era a man played in, the caliber of his teammates, the types of systems his coaches installed, and how well those systems were tailored to his particular skills. These are all important considerations.

A John Havlicek for instance would have been outstanding wherever he played. But a Bob Cousy? No way. He would not have been an outstanding player if he ended up someplace like Chicago in the kind of slowed-down game played when Dick Motta was there. Cousy would have been stifled; he needed a running game.

Quite often, the team makes the player - more often, in fact, than the player making the team, though it can work both ways. There's an old line about how the strength of the wolf is in the pack, and the strength of the pack is in the wolf; there's some truth on both sides. But though it's nice to have a guy who'll get you 35 points a game, that's not enough to win. Bernard King can score 55 points and the Knicks might still lose. It's happened. It used to happen all the time with Wilt Chamberlain. That year he averaged 50.4 with the old Philadelphia Warriors, we finished 11 games ahead of them.

But all factors being considered, if I had to pick the best of all, the answer would be easy.

Bill Russell and Larry Bird.

And I'm not picking them just because they're my guys; I'm calling them the best of all time because they are the best of all time.

Okay, you say, but there's a draft tomorrow - the hypothetical all-time draft - and I've got the first pick. Whose name do I call? That would be the hardest thing in the world for me to decide. I'll tell you why - and then I'll tell you whom I'd pick.

A one of a kind

When Russell quit in 1969 I knew in my heart that we'd never see anything like him again, and no one's ever come along to change that opinion.

I'll be the first to admit I didn't know what we were getting when we drafted Bird. But people forget that it was the same thing when we drafted Bill. I knew we were acquiring someone who'd get us the ball. That was our big need back in '56, the one missing element that could make us a great, great team.

I'd heard about Russell when he was a sophomore at San Francisco. My old college coach, Bill Reinhart had seen him play. He came back and told me, "Red, you've got two years. Start planning now. This kid can be outstanding." Reinhart was the first to spot it.

So, yes, getting him was premeditated. It was no accident. We wanted Russell. And we went after him, working out a deal with St. Louis in which we gave them Ed Macauley, who was our all-star center, and Cliff Hagan, who was just coming out of the Army and was certain to be a top-notch forward. In return we got their first pick, which was the number two pick in the draft that year. Rochester had the first pick overall, but we already knew that they were taking Sihugo Green of Duquesne. We took Russell.

Did I know what I was getting? Not really. A great rebounder? Sure. But I knew nothing about his character, his smarts, his heart; things like that. You never know those things until you actually have the guy. No one in the league really thought much about it at the time. They certainly didn't know what was about to happen: 11 Boston championships in the next 13 years.

Most of your centers in those days - Mikan, Pettit, Johnston - were also your predominant scorers, and here was a guy who, word had it, couldn't hit the backboard; that wasn't really true, but that was the rap against him.

After we made the deal to get him, Walter Brown, our owner at the time, went with me to watch him perform in an exhibition game the Olympic team was play at the University of Maryland. He was terrible. Just awful! Walter and I sat there looking at each other all night. What in the world had we done?

But later that night, after the game, Russell came over to see us. "I want to apologize," he said. "I am really embarrassed. That was the worst game I ever played."

So we talked about it, then got onto other things and it was never mentioned again. At the end of the night, after Russell left, Walter turned to me and asked, "Well, what do you think?"

"I was worried for a while," I told him. "But after looking into his eyes and hearing him talk like that, I'm not worried anymore."

From gold to goofing off

Russ joined us in December 1956, after leading the Olympic team to a gold medal in Melbourne. I brought him into my office and we had a little talk.

"You're probably worried about scoring," I suggested, "because everyone says you don't shoot well enough to play ball."

"Well, yes," he smiled, "I am a little concerned about that."

"Okay," I told him. "I'll make a deal with you today, right here and now. I promise that as long as you play here, whenever we talk about contracts we will never discuss statistics."

We never did. There was only one statistic that mattered to Russell, and it was the same one that mattered to me: Wins.

"Russ," I said, "we have a pretty good organization here. No cliques. Everyone gets along real well. All we want you to do is something no one's ever been able to do for this team: Get us the ball. Forget everything else. Just get the ball."

He nodded and smiled again. "I can do that," he said.

A lot of great basketball minds didn't think he would make it, and if you analyzed their thinking, you could see their point. Take a guy like Walter Dukes. He was bigger than Russell, and he could shoot better. Why, then, was Russell so great while Dukes was just another player?

It was his ability to perform in the clutch. It was his brilliant mind. It was his great defensive anticipation, which led to his great ability to intimidate. And in addition to all of his innate abilities, Russell was a student of the game. Sure, he had quickness, reaction, all the tools he needed. But most of all, he was a thinker. If you faked him a certain way and wound up making a basket or grabbing a rebound, he'd file it away in his mind, and you'd never fool him the same way again.

We played the Knicks in one of his early games with us and Harry Gallatin ate him up. Harry knew his way around. He was cute. So the next time we played New York I started telling Russ: "You take so-and-so and I'll have Heinsohn take Gallatin."

He didn't say anything at first, but then he pulled me aside just before the game started.

"I'd like to play Gallatin," he said. "It won't happen again."

I said okay, and as I watched him walking onto the court I knew that this was a momentous occasion. He killed Gallatin. See, his pride had been wounded, and that made Russell a dangerous man to deal with. It's like they say in the jungle: Don't ever wound a lion, or he'll be twice as deadly. When Russell's pride was hurt he became like that wounded lion, and God help anybody who got in his way.

I remember one day when I really got angry at him in practice. Russell hated practice. Everyone knew it, but none of us made a big deal about it because we knew the guy would give us 48 tough minutes every game. So I'd shut my eyes to the false hustle he was giving. Still, practice had its purpose, even for him, especially when we were working on plays. And sometimes I'd want him to put out just so he wouldn't upset the other players' timing. Those were the only times when I'd really get on him; otherwise, I'd allow him to set his own pace, figuring I didn't want him leaving all of his energy in a workout.

But one particular morning he was loafing more than usual, and pretty soon everyone else started goofing off, too. So I blew my whistle. "Okay," I said, "are we all done resting now? Good. Let's go! Let's have a twenty-minute scrimmage, real strong, and then we can all get out of here."

So they start in, but pretty soon they're loafing again. Now I blow my whistle and I'm steamed. "Out! Everybody out. Right now. Don't let me hear another ball bounce. Just get out."

They all scrammed, wondering what I was going to do next. But I wasn't going to do anything. The feeling just wasn't there that day, that's all. It happens sometimes. You have to know when to push and when to back off.

Now comes our next practice. "Listen up," I tell them. "We will not discuss what happened before. All I want is a good, hard practice today. Let's go."

Sure enough, Russell starts in loafing again. All he's giving me is more false hustle. I stop the practice.

"Damn it, Russell," I yelled. "You destroyed practice the other day, but you're not going to destroy this one. I'm going to go up into those stands, light a cigar, and I'm going to sit there two hours, three hours, four hours - whatever it takes - until I see a good 20-minute scrimmage. I don't care if you're here all day long. I'm going to see a workout, so make up your mind to that now."

I grabbed some cigars, went into the stands and blew the whistle for them to start.

They began to play, and after five minutes I started to laugh. I couldn't help it. Russell must have blocked 9,000 shots. He'd grab a rebound, throw the outlet pass, race down court to stuff in a shot, then beat everybody back on defense, where he wouldn't allow anyone to get within 18 feet of the basket. I watched this incredible display and thought to myself, "If I don't stop this right now, he's going to leave his next game right here in the Cambridge Y."

I decided the only way to handle it was to make a joke of it, so I blew my whistle and walked back onto the court.

"Russell," I said, "what the hell am I going to do with you? I didn't mean for you to play that good. Can't you give me a happy medium!"

The Russell magic

Bill's calling card, his speciality, was the blocked shot. I began to notice that he didn't block shots the way all the other big guys blocked them. Chamberlain and all those other guys were what I called shot-swatters - 7-foot fly-swatters - who'd knock the ball out of bounds, or else belt it into the open court where anybody could retrieve it.

Russell didn't do that. With his great timing and body control, he'd hit the bottom of the ball, forcing it to pop up into the air like a rebound, which he'd then grab. Or else he'd redirect it into the hands of one of his teammates. Either way, we ended up with possession. He turned shot-blocking into an art, and he's the only man I've ever seen on a court who could do that on a consistent basis. No one's ever been able to duplicate, his style, although Bill Walton came the closest when he was healthy.

Russell, took that one great skill and revolutionized the game by terrorizing the league. As word spread and his reputation grew, he began instilling fear into the hearts of all the great shooters. He didn't react the way other centers reacted, so these shooters never knew how to react to him. Most shot-blockers, anticipating a shot, would go into the air with the shooters. Not Russell. He was so quick, so fast, that he wouldn't make his move until after the ball had left the shooter's hand. Against other centers, they'd just go behind a screen, or fake, or maybe double pump. That didn't work with Russell. He'd just stand there, watching you, waiting for you to commit yourself. The moment you released the ball, he'd be on it like a cat.

S hooters would come racing down the court, stop, and go up for a jumper - but hesitate just long enough to ask themselves, "Where is he?" And that split-second was all it took for one of our other guys to catch up to them. In situations like those, which we saw all the time Russell didn't have to move an inch to break up a play. His presence alone was so unnerving that opposing players would blow their shots just worrying about what he might do.

I used to lead teams of NBA stars on State Department tours all over the world. One summer our tour took us to Yugoslavia. When we offered to put on clinics, as we did wherever we went, the officials there told us they weren't interested. Apparently some AAU team had been there, before us and was beaten easily by the Yugoslavian national team.

We tried to explain that there was a big difference in our country between pros and amateurs, but they didn't want to hear anything about it. All they knew was that the guys they had whipped had worn USA on their jerseys. There was nothing they wanted to learn from us, they said, and they were pretty arrogant about it.

That irritated me. I wanted to set the record straight, to show the fans over there that they hadn't seen the best America could offer, because of course that's never explained to them whenever poorly-trained pickup teams of American kids get their asses handed to them by pros behind the Iron Curtain.

Yugoslavia had this redheaded center who was the leading scorer in all of Europe. So I pulled Russell aside just before the game got under way. "Look," I told him, "don't worry about the ball tonight. Don't worry about rebounds. Let Pettit and Heinsohn worry about that stuff. All I want you to do is guard that big kid over there. If he scores one basket, I'm going to break your neck. Understand?"

We start the game and the kid gets the ball. He fakes right, bounces once to his left, then goes up into the air - and you can see this big smile on his face. All of a sudden, Russell uncoils his arm. Blocked shot. We take the ball to the other end of the court and score.

This happened again. And again. And again. Russell blocked about six shots in a row, and now the kid's going bananas. He comes down the court a seventh time, takes two steps backward and throws the ball like a baseball.

"Damn it, Russell," I yell, "you let him hit the backboard!"

Russ looks at me. Now he's figuring he's got to find a way to get both the kid and me off his back. So the next time the guy takes a shot, instead of blocking it again he smacked it as hard as he could and it hit the kid in the face. He began screaming, going into a tantrum like a three-year-old, and he winds up kicking the ball into the crowd.

That was it for him. Technical foul. They threw him out of the game - the hero of the country, mind you. He had seen all he wanted to see.

That's what Russell could do when he put his mind to it.

From player to coach

Would we have had the success we enjoyed without Bill Russell? No way. But would he have had the same success if he played for another coach? I don't know.

I do know this. When I let it be known at the start of the 1965-66 season that I was beginning my final year of coaching, he came to me, more than once, and urged me not to quit. He called my wife and urged her not to let me quit.

Then one day late in that season, when he realized my mind was made up, he came to me and said he'd like to take over as coach when I retired. His reason was that he didn't want to play for anyone else. Suppose he didn't like the new guy? Or suppose the new guy brought in a different system after all these years?

Well, my mind started moving pretty fast. Suppose the new guy didn't understand Russell? Suppose they weren't able to develop a productive chemistry? I started thinking the same way Russell was thinking.

"I don't want to play for anybody else," he told me. "If I can't play for you, I'd rather play for myself, if you'll let me have the job."

I jumped at the idea. What better way to motivate Russell, I thought to myself, than to make him accountable for the whole team's performance? Remember, the year I left the bench we won our eighth championship in a row. Every season it became more difficult to sustain the intensity. But I knew Russell's pride, and if anybody could get the most out of Russell the player, it would be Russell the coach. Now there would be two reasons he had to win! Talk about a great self-motivating situation.

At our breakup banquet that spring, after all of the other speakers had been to the mike, Russ got up and talked about replacing me. He was leading up to a point, and when he got there he turned and looked directly at me.

"People say Red was lucky to have me," he said. "And he was. But I was lucky to have him, too. Red, you and I are going to be friends until one of us dies."

My throat got tight and my eyes filled and I had to look away. Lucky to have him? You bet I was.

I'm not much for showing my emotions in public, but I did that night.

I almost did it again when they had that big weekend for me in Boston. After all of my old players, from the '50s, '60s, '70s, right down to the present club, had assembled on the Garden court, they announced my name, and I walked out into the middle of a tremendous ovation. It was very emotional, but I was in full control as I started shaking hands with each old Celtic.

Then as I started moving toward Russell he held his arms out, and I stretched my arms, and the next thing I knew he was lifting me off the floor and holding me in a bear hug. Everyone was cheering, but all I was thinking was that I didn't want to cry because I was afraid I might not be able to stop. I almost cracked, but I got through it.

You see, what Russell and I share will always be special. My wife loves the guy. I love the guy. I understand him, just like he understands me. As he once said, we have the most essential ingredient for friendship, and that's mutual respect. He made no demands of me, and I made no demands of him. As he likes to say, we "exchanged favors."

One year, the night before training camp opened, I called him to my room. "Russ," I told him, "I'm going to yell at you all day long tomorrow. I may yell at you all week long. Don't pay any attention to it, okay? You see, if I can't yell at you, then I can't yell at anybody." He said that would be okay, so for the next couple of days I really climbed all over him, and he didn't react. I figured that was because of the little agreement we'd made. It wasn't until later that he told me I'd gotten him so mad he wanted to kill me. I was such a good actor that I guess I forgot I was acting.

Other times he'd come to me and ask if he could skip a practice, or maybe travel ahead by himself and meet the team on the road. It didn't happen often, but if I thought it really meant a lot to him I'd sometimes go along with his request. And I'd always add one condition: "You owe me one."

He'd laugh and say okay. Some night, maybe a month or two later, We'd be getting ready for a tough one and. I'd go over to him.

"You owe me one, right?"

"Right."

"Well, I want it tonight."

Then he'd play his heart out.

Today, when I look back in private thoughts, I enjoy reflecting on some of the things I did which helped win games. And I'm sure Bill, in his private thoughts, enjoys the same type of reflections. Many of those thoughts - his and mine - go hand in hand. We were a lot alike: Two strong personalities, both having the same goals, the same philosophies, both doing anything and everything we could to achieve the triumphs that meant so much to both of us.

I think it's safe to say there's a bond between us that very few men will ever be privileged to share.

The private side

I've always wished the public could know the Russell I know, but he's a very private man who's hard to get to know. He just wants to be left alone.

There have been things he's said and done - like refusing to let us formally retire his number, which we did without him, or refusing to attend his own enshrinement in the Hall of Fame - that I have not agreed with, and I've told him so.

Yet throughout his playing days I didn't want to go into his personality or eccentricities unless I felt I had to. That was Russell. That was his thing, so to speak. Other than giving advice where I felt it was welcome or needed, I made no attempt to change him. Who knows? If I had tried to change his personality it might have affected the way he played.

I'll always remember the time I heard him speaking off the cuff to some students at Notre Dame. We were there for an exhibition, as I recall, and it was during the period of great campus upheaval: Civil rights, Vietnam, protests. It seemed students were mad at everyone and raising hell every chance they got.

I watched Bill sit on the edge of a stage and rap with those kids, and all the respect I had for him doubled. He was so articulate, so down-to-earth, so open and honest - and all these kids, including the long hair types, sat with their eyes wide open, fascinated by what they were hearing. I don't know of anybody else in the country who could have held that particular audience under that kind of control. Even today, if he'd go around talking to kids the way he did back then, he'd do a better job of communicating with them than just about anybody else in the nation.

That's the Bill Russell too few people ever get to know.

Heirs to greatness

Will there ever be another Russell?

I don't know. I think the next Dr.J is already here; his name is Michael Jordan. And we might be seeing the next Bob Cousy in Isiah Thomas.

But another Russell? I don't know about that. Patrick Ewing's no Russell. He's a great player and a super kid, but he's a power center; Russell was a finesse center. A guy who'd have a shot at being a Russell-like center if he wasn't so offensive-minded is Ralph Sampson; he's got the quickness, the smarts and the reactions. Akeem Olajuwon? Keep your eyes on him. He might be the one.

I'll always remember what Russell said the first year of his retirement when Kareem Adbul-Jabbar, then known as Lew Alcindor, came into the league with a great flourish. Someone asked Russell, "How would you have done against Alcindor?"

I think that bothered Bill. He was never one to use the word "I" a lot; he never had that kind of ego. But here was this kid, this great offensive machine, creating such a stir that already people were forgetting the way Russell had dominated every center he ever faced.

"The question," he told the interviewer, "is not how I would have done against Alcindor, but rather how Alcindor would have done against me."

It was a great line, and he was absolutely right to have said it.

When you think about it, maybe that's the only way to measure the next Bill Russell: How would he have done against the original Bill Russell? Personally, I don't think I'll live to see the man who might have beaten him.

Another flies in

You're always looking, always hoping, to find the next great one, and back in 1977 we started hearing rumors about this kid out at Indiana State. No one ever said he was great at that time, but the word was that he was good, very good. So I watched him on TV a couple of times, and then, during his junior season, I went to see him in person for the first time.

Like Russell, Larry Bird showed me what I wanted to see the first time I laid eyes on him. Here was a kid who could shoot and who knew how to handle the ball. He was going to be eligible for the draft that spring, 1978, even though he was a junior, because he started his collegiate career at Indiana and then sat out a year. But he made it known he intended to play his senior season. Anybody drafting him would have to wait a year. Most teams don't want to do that, but we looked at it differently. Back in 1953 I drafted three Kentucky players - Frank Ramsey, Cliff Haan and Lou Tsioropoulos - a year before they graduated. Like Bird, they were all junior-eligibles.

Why? Because you'd rather have potential great fresh-blood than potential good fresh blood coming into your organization. Any good player you draft probably won't make that big a difference, but a great player can make all the difference in the world. So what's one year? It goes by very quickly, and it's well worth the wait if the player you're talking about has the potential for making a major impact upon your team.

Larry, I felt, had that potential - yet I didn't even dream of the surprises which were to come. I didn't realize how quick he was. I had no knowledge of his rebounding abilities. I knew he had a court presence on offense, but I didn't realize he had one on defense, too. And I had no sense of his leadership qualities, or his ability to motivate other people as well as motivating himself.

I had no great insight into his character, or his personality, or his willingness to play in pain. I have never had an athlete in my 39 years in the league who liked to play more than Larry does and who would make every effort to play, whether he was hurt or not. He symbolizes that old line he can walk, he can play better than any athlete I've ever met.

Yet he was drafted solely on the premise that he was a damned good ballplayer who could put some points on the board and move the ball around. That's all I was expecting, just as I was only expecting Russell to get us the ball.

We had a terrible season in 1977-78- (32-50) but the one thing it gave us was the sixth pick in the first round. So we waited until the first five names were called: Mychal Thompson, Phil Ford, Rick Robey, Mike Richardson and Purvis Short. Then, it was my turn to speak: Boston takes Larry Bird of Indiana State.

The following spring, after his senior season, I opened negotiations with his agent, Bob Woolf. They lasted three months and at times were somewhat heated, though a lot of that was just newspaper talk.

I knew Larry was going to cost us some money, and I was prepared to pay a reasonable price, but the point I kept hammering home was that no forward ever made a franchise in our league. And historically, I was correct. The only guys who ever had the ability to turn around an entire franchise were centers: Mikan, Russell, Chamberlain, Reed, Jabbar, Walton, Malone. All of your other players, no matter how great they were, were contributors. Look at Dr.J - as great as he is, he didn't win it all until Malone joined him. No forward could do it by himself, because forwards are at the mercy of the guards; the guards control the ball.

That's why no forward ever made a franchise - until Larry Bird made ours. He was the first exception, and he may go down in history as the only exception.

The day he walked into our rookie camp was the day my eyes were opened: The way he shot the ball; the way he passed it around; the way he crashed the boards; the way he raced up and down the court; the way he controlled the tempo and action; the way he seemed to make no mistakes. As I sat there watching, all I could think of was the day Havlicek first showed up 17 years earlier. It was the only thing I could compare it to.

John had just been cut from the Cleveland Browns camp. He flew into town, someone picked him up, and the next thing I knew he was walking onto the court. Ben Carnevale, the Navy coach was with me at the time. We started watching John, and after about three minutes I turned to him and said, "Oh my God, what have I got here?" Ben looked at me and said, "I don't know, but I've got a hunch it's going to be something good."

That's how it was with Larry, though maybe not as dramatic - because, remember, I wasn't coaching now. My first thought was simply that this kid was worth every nickel we ended up giving him, which at that time amounted to the richest rookie contract ever signed in any sport.

Larry's very stoic, very unemotional in his expressions, so the more you watch him, the more you appreciate him. He's the consummate pro: He's got a job to do, and anything that might get in the way of doing that job is simply shrugged off, disregarded. Knock him down, he gets back up. He gives as much as he gets in that department. Very seldom does he blow up; diving onto the floor, getting hit with elbows, whatever it is, the look on his face never changes. He just keeps doing the job.

You know what he reminds me of? A street guy with class. That's the only description that keeps coming to my mind: A tough kid off the streets who exudes nothing but class.

I'll tell you something else about him: He's got more mental toughness than any player I've ever seen, including Russell. And I know that Russell has tremendous respect for Bird's ability and for Bird as a person.

There are very few players I would pay to see. I would have paid to see Calvin Murphy play at Niagara. He was spectacular. I'd have paid to see Russell, just to admire the art of his defense. But I wouldn't have paid to see Chamberlain or Jabbar; they don't excite me that way. Don't misunderstand; they're great. But I'd find them monotonous. I wouldn't have paid to see Mikan; he was like a robot. But I'd pay to watch Isiah Thomas, and I'd have paid to watch Dr.J in his prime. Years ago I'd have paid to watch an Elgin Baylor or a Bob Cousy.

As a rule, however, I very rarely jump out of my seat to applaud a player. I guess I've seen too many over the years to react that way anymore. Yet Larry has lifted me out of my seat more than any other player ever has.

It's those moves, that variety of shots, that way he has of improvising as he goes along so that you just don't know what he's going to do, what's coming next. He keeps coming up with the damndest plays I've ever seen. It's like watching Cousy in his prime - yet we're talking about a forward who rebounds like a center!

He is - and I say this unequivocally - the greatest all-around player who ever lived.

Larry's a student of the game in a different way than Russell. Russ might have thought to himself: "If a guy's standing next to me in the pivot here, and I put my hip into him this way, then he can't make the following moves ... "

Larry doesn't break it down like that. He just sees a shot go up and tells himself: "I'm gonna get it." Yet Bird, in my opinion, would be a better coach than Russell was. Russell hated the nitty-gritty stuff. Even though he loved to think about the game, he hated all the routines.

Bird sees what has to be done, feels what has to be done, knows what has to be done, and he can teach. I've heard him telling things to guys. I've even asked him, on occasion, to explain certain things to players, things I thought they should know which he might not volunteer unless he was asked. He's sensitive to the fact some people might resent it.

Auerbach Considering Retirement

10/28/82

Auerbach Considering Retirement

The old master doesn't quite know how to put the finishing touch on his life's work, or even if this is the right time to step down.

Auerbach and the '56 Draft

1997

Forty-one years ago, a man who served his team as coach/general manager/marketing director/traveling secretary/business manager pulled off the finest draft in the history of professional sports. And the local media gave it far less play than your average New England Revolution-Dallas Burn game of 1997.

Bird Toasts Red

October 4, 1992
The room was dark, save for the three rows of empty chairs in front of a photographer's lighting setup, and Larry Bird had found what he hoped was a remote couch.

Red had a Knack

July 1, 1986

Everything _ a trade, a draft lottery, a championship _ seems to go Red Auerbach's way. The image persists that his mere touch will turn a valueless object into gold.

Sixteen Championships in 30 Years

June 11, 1986

In this city, which has produced Paul Revere, John Adams and John F. Kennedy, there is only one man who has been deified by a statue erected in his lifetime - Arnold Auerbach.

A bronze monument to Mr. Auerbach sits on a bench in Quincy Market, a short, round, balding figure grasping a cigar. The inscription reads simply: ''He has made winning synonymous with Boston.''

Red was Special

June 8, 1986

To an NBA draft list already deep and dazzling, one more name should be added. He's not that much taller than Spud Webb and couldn't shoot a basketball if somebody provided the gun. He'd have a terrific impact on whichever team selected him, however, maybe more than anyone after the lottery choices.

Red took Risk, Walton Provided Reward

Spring 1986

When Bill Walton joined the Boston Celtics last fall, it strained the imagination to see him as anything more than Muhammad Ali or Willie Mays at the end. Too many foot injuries, too many broken noses, too many years and too few games.

Even when the Celtics traded for Walton, a 6-11 center, in September, General Manager Jan Volk said the whole thing was "fraught with risk."

Volk Set to Replace Auerbach at Season's End

1983-84 Boston Celtics
Record: 15-6
12/9/1983

Red Auerbach has informed everyone from Charles Bradley to Charles Kuralt that this is his last year. The one and only eneral manager in the 38-year history of basketball's proudest franchise plans to be home in Washington, "Only a phone call away if I'm needed," when the Celtics open their 1984-85 season. We know better. Auerbach's presence will be felt by the Celtics as long as he's blowing smoke somewhere. He'll be president emiteris, honorary general manager or legend-on-call, but he'll be involved.

Red, Ainge, and Racquetball

When asked for his funniest Auerbach moment, Ainge told of playing racquetball against Auerbach between two-a-day training camp workouts. At the time, Auerbach was in his mid-60s and getting the better of Larry Bird and McHale on the racquetball court. Then, he challenged Ainge to a game. Ainge promptly beat Auerbach three straight times.

"I beat him the first three games and he wouldn't let me quit," said Ainge. "I said, 'Red, I've got a second practice. I'm trying to win a job.' But he made me stay and play racquetball. Well, Bird and McHale came in for the later part of this, probably only an hour before our second practice is going to start. He still wants to beat me. So, Bird and McHale noticed that I didn't have the string around my [wrist] and that's illegal. They tattled on me ... He had to make me put the string around one hand [so I couldn't switch hands], then Red beat me. He went and bragged for the rest of camp that he beat me in racquetball."

Red Auerbach and the 1956 Draft

1997

Forty-one years ago, a man who served his team as coach/general manager/marketing director/traveling secretary/business manager pulled off the finest draft in the history of professional sports. And the local media gave it far less play than your average New England Revolution-Dallas Burn game of 1997.

DJ Adds New Dimension to Old Rivalry

January 25, 1984

At a recent practice at Hellenic College, Celtics' legend Red Auerbach tipped his cigar ashes into a paper cup, blew smoke and said, "You know what I think the big difference is? It's No. 3. He's the big difference between this year and last."

Dennis Johnson wears No. 3.

In this emotional joy ride through the first half of the 1983-84 regular season, intangible elements of happiness, harmony and chemistry have been cited as the primary causes of Boston's early success. But while everybody is admitting a preference for the K.C. Jones soft shoe over the Bill Fitch goose step, the addition of Dennis Johnson is often overlooked. As the Celtics prepare for to night's fourth regular-season scrum with the hated Philadelphia 76ers at Boston Garden (7:30), DJ represents the crucial new wrinkle in this five-year long war.

The addition of Johnson was the only major personnel changemade by the Celtics or Sixers in the offseason. Philadelphia is starting the same five players it did in the championship season of 1982-83. On the pine, Sam Williams, Sedale Threatt and Leo Rautins (currently on the injured list) sit where Reggie Johnson, Mark McNamara and Earl Cureton sat last year. In Boston, Rick Robey and Charles Bradley have been replaced by Greg Kite and Carlos Clark, but instead of Tiny Archibald the Celtics have Dennis Johnson starting at guard.

"He gives us something we didn't have," says Auerbach. "He does all the things we hoped Charles Bradley would eventually do. But instead of working on his shot, Charles was admiring his body." Backcourt matchups have been Boston's biggest problem against the Sixers. In DJ, the Celts picked up a four-time All-Star and a five-time member of the NBA's All-Defensive team. When the Celtics play the Sixers, Johnson is asked to contain Boston strangler Andrew Toney while providing new problems for the Sixers on defense.

Toney has scored 19, 18 and 28 points while hitting 50 percent (25 for 50) in three games against the Celts this season. DJ wasn't on the floor at the end of regulation when Toney's three-pointer forced an overtime in the Garden Dec. 4. However, two weeks ago in the Spectrum, when the 76ers trailed by one with 18 seconds left, Philly set up a shot for Julius Erving rather than Toney, who was being guarded by DJ.

"DJ hasn't shut Andrew down, but I don't think anyone is capable of stopping him altogether," says Celtics assistant coach Chris Ford. "Before, there was always an aura of us being leery. We wondered if anybody could contain Andrew. Now, we think we have that. Our players have confidence in DJ, plus he's able to take Toney down low and post him up and maybe get him in foul trouble."

Johnson made his name in the NBA by playing defense, but the Celts see his offensive potential as a critical new weapon against the Sixers. "DJ can really hurt them on the offensive end," notes M.L. Carr. "He gives us another guy that can put pressure on them." Johnson scored 11, 11 and 17 points in the first three Boston-Philadelphia matches, and hasn't been bashful about taking the open jumper or driving to the basket. Both teams figure to be tired tonight. The Celtics traveled from Cleveland to Boston this morning, while the Sixers arrived from last night's game in New York. "Any time these two teams play it's a knock-down, drag-out battle," says Carr. "Down there, Doc (Erving) said they wanted to establish some dominance over them. Now, it's our chance. We want a dominant win."

Auerbach, EZ Ed, and the '56 Draft

Ed Macauley Weekend
1997

Forty-one years ago, a man who served his team as coach/general manager/marketing director/traveling secretary/business manager pulled off the finest draft in the history of professional sports. And the local media gave it far less play than your average New England Revolution-Dallas Burn game of 1997.

On Monday, April 30, 1956, Boston Celtic czar Red Auerbach in one day acquired Bill Russell, Tommy Heinsohn, and K.C. Jones. All three would go on to have Hall of Fame careers and become head coach of the Celtics. Among them, they compiled 32 championship rings as Celtics over three decades.

Think about that. One draft, three Hall of Famers, 32 rings with the same team. Let's see Jerrys Reinsdorf and Krause top that. Auerbach's '56 draft has been recounted in many videos and books, but it's stunning to comb microfilm and see what the Globe was writing about Red's genius in 1956. In those days, the NBA didn't really count around here. The league was just 10 years old and Boston hadn't won any titles. Spring Celtic stories were placed next to the local college baseball roundup.

The NBA of 1956 held its annual meeting in New York, and on Sunday, April 29, the Globe's Jack Barry (writing from Boston and getting information via telephone) wrote a short NBA notes column, leading with the news that the 1957 NBA All-Star Game would be held at Boston Garden. Deeper into the mini-column, Barry mentioned, "The meetings will conclude tomorrow with the annual draft of college players." That's it. That was the extent of the Globe's predraft coverage in 1956.

In the next day's paper, the inimitable Clif Keane reported that the Celtics had a chance to get Russell's rights from St. Louis (drafting second) in exchange for Celtic star Ed Macauley. Keane reported that the only potential glitch would be if Rochester (which had the No. 1 pick) selected Russell. In Keane's story, Celtic official Bill Mokray said that Rochester owner Les Harrison would not take Russell as his choice: "If Harrison sticks with that statement, the Hawks will then take Russell and turn him over to us."

In the May 1 Globe, Herb Ralby reported that Russell was acquired by the Celtics, but that Boston might lose him to Abe Saperstein of the Harlem Globetrotters. In the small type it is mentioned, "In addition to Russell, the Celtics took K.C. Jones, Russell's play-making teammate at San Francisco who is credited with setting up the big center. Tom Heinsohn of Holy Cross, the Celtics' territorial choice, was also drafted. No other team in either loop of the NBA took advantage of its territorial choice."

At the conclusion of Ralby's story, Auerbach said of Russell, "He's the greatest defensive center I've ever seen. Sure he has weaknesses, but they'll be remedied. He gives me a big man for the future." There's a prophetic statement for you. One thing about the draft hasn't changed. There's always wheeling and dealing going on right up until the bell rings. Just ask Rick Pitino how many calls he's gotten, and made, concerning his No. 3 and No. 6 picks. Everybody wants to know what everybody else is going to do. It makes the planning easier.

Which brings us back to May 30, 1956. Heinsohn was a territorial pick (these no longer exist) and Auerbach jumped at the chance to take a local kid who'd ranked fourth in the nation in scoring and eighth in rebounding (despite Russell's impact on the game, Heinsohn would be the 1956-57 NBA Rookie of the Year). K.C. (picked in the second round) couldn't shoot and had a service commitment, but that didn't worry Red. Auerbach already had a pair of All-Star guards in Bob Cousy and Bill Sharman. He could wait. He'd also scouted San Francisco more than anyone in the NBA and he knew Jones's defense would make him a force.

But what about Russell? How did Red know Harrison wouldn't mess up the Russell-Macauley deal by selecting the San Francisco center with the top pick? Versions vary. In later years, Harrison claimed that Russell sandbagged him, playing poorly when Rochester scouts watched him in an all-star game. But there were other reasons to pass on Russell: Rochester already had a good big man in Maurice Stokes (Rookie of the Year). Russell's price tag was going to be hefty. The threat of the Globetrotters loomed, and everyone knew that Russell's Olympic commitment would tie him up until mid December. Rochester eventually took Duquesne's Si Green.

But never underestimate the Ice Capades. In 1956, NBA owners cared most about filling their big barns for winter shows. Boston boss Walter Brown owned the Ice Capades. Auerbach says, "What happened was this: Walter got Harrison the Ice Capades, he felt indebted to Walter. He said, `Look, you gave me the Ice Capades, I'll give you my word that we won't take Russell.' "

"They traded me for a guy, I don't know what ever happened to him. His name was Bill Russell," Macauley jokes. "I don't know if he ever succeeded or not."

Red, Bird Fined for Brawl

1983-84 Boston Celtics
Pre-Season

He spent the afternoon as he often does when he goes home to Washington to take some time off. Red Auerbach was playing cards with some old pals, but not with the usual cold-mannered demeanor. From time to time he would excuse himself to go to the phone. He would come back at little madder each time. He was being ignored by the league office. Finally a call came from Boston with the word.

Reporter: "How much you winning?"

Auerbach: "Two dollars."

Reporter: "Not enough."

Auerbach: "What did it cost me?"

Reporter: "Let's just say you came up $2498 short."

The NBA office yesterday afternoon handed out the bad news to the participants (not all of them, however) in Sunday night's altercations with the Philadelphia 76ers at Boston Garden. Auerbach, for his part, was ticketed for $2500 by league vice president of operations Scotty Stirling. "I'm going to appeal," said Auerbach. "I tried to get Stirling on the phone all day. He was ducking me. That bothers me because the Celtics pay as much of his salary as any other team does."

Also fined were Boston's Larry Bird ($2000) and Gerald Henderson ($500), and Marc Iavaroni of Philadelphia ($1000). "They don't fine (Moses) Malone anything, and he starts the whole thing," said Auerbach. "Philly instigated everything that happened Sunday night and they get away with it. All the league office saw was the retaliation." In his announcement, Stirling said: "Auerbach's actions were embarrassing and intolerable. A general manager has no place on the court at any time during at NBA game."

"I went down there (on the court) to stop Philly from taking over the game," said Auerbach. "I do not blame the referees for what happened. They were new guys and Philly was trying to take advantage of the situation. "Here we are in our builidng before the only sellout exhibition crowd anywhere in this league, and Philly is trying to take it over right from the start, when they come out with all of that physical stuff. "I just wasn't going to let them get away with it. I went on the court to help the officials get things under control, then they (Sixers) all start mouthing off. (76er coach Billy) Cunningham should have been fined. Malone should have been fined.

"When I went down on the floor I told the officials that if they were going to throw Bird out, they should throw Malone out as well. Of course, both of them should have stayed in because the crowd paid big money to see them play." Two minutes into the 99-86 Boston win, Boston's Cedric Maxwell and Malone tangled under the Boston basket. Malone took Maxwell like a rag doll and threw him to the ground.

Two minutes later on the opposite end of the floor, Bird got into a shoving match with Iavaroni. That was broken up, but Bird started up again with Cunningham, who came out on the court. Cunningham's jacket was split in the back during the fracas. The officials in the game were not NBA regulars. NBA officials are not working preseason game this year because of a dispute with the league office. So Ralph Lembo and Jesse Hall, up from the minors, were working the game. Bird and Iavaroni were tossed out after that confrontation. In the second half, Henderson was ejected for punching Phildelphia rookie Sedale Threatt.

Bird's agent Bob Woolf said last night he would talk with his client about appealing the fine. "It's not that he can't afford it," chuckled Woolf, in reference to Bird's signing one of the biggest contract in sports history a few weeks ago, "but I think he should appeal. I'll see what he wants to do." Bird had no comment, but Henderson said, "I'm just glad it (the fine) wasn't $1000." Auerbach knows what he wants to do. "This is ridiculous. The guys that start all the trouble get away with it. The league office better take another look at those films."

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RED

Arnold Jacob "Red" Auerbach (September 20, 1917 – October 28, 2006)

Red Outfoxes Knicks on McHale

June 1983
1983-84 Boston Celtics

It would appear that the Celtics have succeeded in their effort to prevent the New York Knicks from signing free agent Kevin McHale to a multimillion- dollar offer sheet.

The Knicks yesterday matched Boston's offers to forward Sly Williams and backup center Marvin Webster and appear to have bowed out of the McHale sweepstakes for now.

New York dealt Williams and his annual $450,000 salary to the Atlanta Hawks in exchange for guard Rudy Macklin ($100,000 salary), but the Knicks have been unable to swap Webster and until they do, they're stuck with his $450,000, three-year contract.

"That knocks 'em out of the box," said a chuckling Red Auerbach. "We would have taken the players, but we knew they were gonna match, and if they keep one guy, they're out of the box. They can't even bid on him (McHale) at all, which is OK."

According to terms of the current collective bargaining agreement, the Knicks must stay within a $4.6-million salary cap this season. Two weeks ago, the Celtics acted to inflate New York's payroll by signing Knick free agents Rory Sparrow, Williams and Webster to whopping offer sheets. The Knicks ended up matching all three offers and are saddled with an extra $950,000 in salaries to Sparrow and Webster.

"No one's laughing at us now," said Auerbach.

John Sandquist, McHale's agent, said, "If they keep Webster, I would think that would make it different. I'm still waiting to talk to the Knicks. I haven't talked to them since last week. But I'm not worried . . ."

Three days ago, Sandquist said he was coming to New York this week and "either we'll do it or we won't."

"We aren't actively pursuing him anymore," said a Knick official. "I don't think we can make an offer with the cap being what it is. Hey, they were waiting around and we had to move forward. There is such a thing as painting yourself into a corner."

Sandquist's last contact with the Celtics was Sunday, when he rejected Boston's new offer. Auerbach blasted Sandquist Monday, saying, "We've been used." He added that any further negotiations will have to be initiated by Sandquist.

Sandquist said he has no plans to go back to the Celtics. "We know their plans," he said. "If the Knicks are no longer interested, we'll have to find out who has any interest."

The Celtics have offered McHale close to $1 million per year, but hewants a no-trade clause and the Celtics have thus far been unwilling to include such a provision.

"Money has never been the issue with Boston," said Sandquist. "The whole problem with the Celtics is that they've never assured us that Kevin would not be traded. They've not even come close to satisfying us on that."

Would the Celtics be willing to offer McHale a no-trade pact?

"I can't discuss that," said Auerbach. "It's a good question, but I can't discuss it."

Red Nabs DJ in Trade for Robey

June 1983
1983-84 Boston Celtics

Maybe Dennis Johnson will show up with an attitude that'll make Sidney Wicks look like John Havlicek. Maybe Rick Robey will prove to be the greatest thing to hit Phoenix since air conditioning.

Then again, maybe the venerable Redhead has done it again. Maybe Celtic fans will be sipping green beer next June, saying, "We knew we were on the right track when Red swapped Rick Robey for Dennis Johnson and a first-round pick last June."

The Celtic offices on the second floor of the Garden were the hottest spot in New England again yesterday. First, Celtics general manager Red Auerbach and owner Harry Mangurian assembled three members of the print media for the purpose of blasting Kevin McHale's agent, John Sandquist. When the last of the mortar shots was fired, Mangurian was slipped a note, the session was terminated and Red took one long puff and said, "If you aren't doing anything, why don't you guys stick around for another half-hour?"

Thirty minutes later, Auerbach announced that Boston had swapped Robey and two second-round picks to Phoenix in exchange for four-time All-Star guard Dennis Johnson, plus Phoenix' first- and second-round picks in today's draft.

Dennis, one of 16 Johnsons in the 1982-83 NBA Register, is a 6-foot-4, 200-pound, 28-year-old. He's a seven-year NBA veteran who was MVP of the 1979 playoffs when he played backcourt for the champion Seattle SuperSonics. The Sonics cited "attitude" problems when they sent him to Phoenix for Paul Westphal in June 1980. DJ is a four-time All-Star who's been named to the NBA's first-team All-Defensive team for five consecutive seasons. His best offensive season was 1981-82, when he shot 47 percent from the floor and averaged 19.5 points per game for the Suns. Last season he averaged 14.2 points and shot .42 percent while teaming with Walter Davis in the backcourt.

"I'm going to a very good team with no regrets about leaving," said DJ. "All the times I came to play in Boston, I heard about the Boston tradition and mystique. Now, I get to be a part of it."

The Celtics have a glut of guards. Danny Ainge, Gerald Henderson, Quinn Buckner, Tiny Archibald and Charles Bradley are still on the roster. The acquisition of Johnson makes it easier for the Celtics to dump Archibald, who wants his release (he has one year left on his contract).

DJ certainly makes Buckner excess baggage, but it's clear the Celtics are through dealing.

"We had to get a good, big, defensive guard," said Auerbach. "Now we got a guy that can play Magic (Johnson) and (George) Gervin and (Reggie) Theus and (Andrew) Toney. He can shut guys off, which is something we did not have last year and could not have gotten in the draft. We now feel our backcourt is as good as any in the league."

Asked if he could stop Andrew Toney, Johnson said, "We only play them twice a year. At times he's come out on top and at times I have come out on top, but when I'm on the court he knows I'll be right there giving it to him."

What about Johnson's attitude?

"We checked him out carefully and he's a good kid with no bad habits," said Auerbach. "He was emotionally unhappy for a short time in Seattle, but Lenny Wilkins (coach of the Sonics) said he's a helluva kid who works hard."

Johnson said, "People perceive you for what you do on the court. I'm gonna get on the court and play the way I should play. That's what I say about my reputation."

The immediate impact of the deal will be felt today when the Celtics draft 21st instead of 28th. This draft is not considered very deep and the Celtics believe they've helped themselves immeasurably by moving up seven notches.

"This enables us to get the player we want," said Auerbach. "Seven picks later we would lose the pick we want."

In addition to the Robey-Johnson exchange and the swapped first-round picks, the Celtics dropped from 45 to 52 for their second selection.

The loss of Robey will be felt only if Boston fails to come up with a serviceable backup center. Robey came to the Celtics from Indiana in exchange for Billy Knight in 1979 and his playing time diminished markedly in the last two seasons. Bill Fitch buried Robey after the 1983 All-Star game. Robey played an average of five minutes per game, scoring 4.2 points per game in 1982-83.

Red & Larry Play Tennis, Red Keeps Score, Red Wins

Larry Bird's summer got off to a slow start. He dropped his annual challenge tennis match with Red Auerbach, 6-4, 6-4, although the outcome was marked by some questionable scorekeeping on the general manager's part.

"We were tied, 8-8, in the first set when I asked Red the score," said Bird. "He said it was 2-1. I said how can it be 2-1? Easy,' he said. I won the first set, 6-4, and now I'm ahead, 2-1.' Next time I keep score."

Coach Bill Fitch, who had a dollar riding on Bird, cautioned Auerbach that he might have made a mistake in winning. "Larry's mad as hell, Red. He says he's going to take it out on you the next time he sits down to talk contract."

Danny, Red, and Racquetball

When asked for his funniest Auerbach moment, Ainge told of playing racquetball against Auerbach between two-a-day training camp workouts. At the time, Auerbach was in his mid-60s and getting the better of Larry Bird and McHale on the racquetball court. Then, he challenged Ainge to a game. Ainge promptly beat Auerbach three straight times.

"I beat him the first three games and he wouldn't let me quit," said Ainge. "I said, 'Red, I've got a second practice. I'm trying to win a job.' But he made me stay and play racquetball. Well, Bird and McHale came in for the later part of this, probably only an hour before our second practice is going to start. He still wants to beat me. So, Bird and McHale noticed that I didn't have the string around my [wrist] and that's illegal. They tattled on me ... He had to make me put the string around one hand [so I couldn't switch hands], then Red beat me. He went and bragged for the rest of camp that he beat me in racquetball."