Sampson Chase is On

April 9, 1980

SAMPSON CHASE, AND WAIT, ARE ON

The gray-haired lady smiling from behind the car rental counter caught the Celtic logo glued to the side of the small leather bag with the first look. Then she matched it with the cigar stuffed in the mouth of the suddenly familiar face in front of her, and asked without hesitation: ”You're here to take Ralph away, aren't you? Can't say as I'd blame ya. Can't say if I were Ralph I wouldn't go either. Not for all that money."



Red Auerbach pulled the cigar from his lips, watched the smoke curl toward the ceiling of the airport lobby, and replied softly: "I hope you're right." The quest of Ralph Sampson began early in the morning in Auerbach's Washington apartment when he put the finishing touches on some notes he had made to himself, inked tightly on a yellow legal pad.

These were the basics of a sales pitch he would use later in the evening to induce Ralph Sampson's parents, his coaches and legal advisers that the best thing the 19-year-old, 7-foot-4 basketball player could do in the immediate future is leave the University of Virginia and launch a pro career with the Celtics. The notes were drawn up in rough form on Sunday as Auerbach watched both ends of an NBA doubleheader on TV. They were continually revised until he boarded a plane from Washington to this town, which is comprised mostly of the University of Virginia, founded by Thomas Jefferson, whose home sits on a mountaintop overlooking the beautiful campus, dotted with rows of red brick buildings.

"I'm going to use logic with these people," Auerbach said as he waited in the airport for his rented car to be driven out to him from downtown. "I'm going to tell them that this is his one shot to play for the Celtics, play with a good team and play in a great city. I'm going to tell them about the great colleges and universities we have up there if Ralph wants to finish school. I'm going to tell them about the opportunity to make money on the outside like (Larry) Bird has. Hell, Phil Ford was the top player in the country a few years ago, went to Kansas City and doesn't make a cent on the outside."

Auerbach comes around, and the driver informs him that he has to go back to town to sign the rental agreement. Along the way, over Route 743 which travels over undulating hills through farmlands that are starting to take their green back from winter, the driver points to a horse farm and announces: "Fella over there got a barn with a TV in it for his horses. Imagine that, TV for the horses."

The driver pulls the car into a local Gulf station, nonstop into a single- stall car wash, completely befuddling the Celtic general manager. "What the hell are we doing here," asks Auerbach, "getting the car washed?" "No," repled the driver. "You go around and fill out the forms in front." "Never been dropped off in the middle of a car wash before," mumbles Red before ordering the driver, "Don't turn that damn thing on until we get out of here."

At 11 a.m., the question would be bizarre coming from most people. But from Auerbach, it was a natural. "Where's a good Chinese restaurant to get something to eat around here?"
So it was the Taiwan Gardens, just four miles down the bypass for brunch. "Looks like a good place to me," says Auerbach, peeking through the window. "It's clean and green."

Translated, that meant the restaurant was neat and had green table cloths, like the Celtics' colors. That could be lucky, even though there were not the usual fortune cookies with messages good or bad. "Life is funny," says Auerbach, waxing philosophically over his wonton soup. "This could have been it for me. I could have spent the last 31 years in a town like this."

"In 1949 I went down to coach at Duke. I really wasn't the coach. They called me an advisory coach and a profressor. The deal was that the coach at the time, Jerry Gerard, was dying of cancer. The school had a history of never firing anyone or letting them go. They brought me in to be there when the coach passed on. "But after a couple of months, I couldn't take it any more. Here I was, waiting for a guy who was a friend of mine to die so I could get his job. I finally went up to the people and told them I was leaving. The next year I got the job with the Celtics."

After lunch Auerbach cruises the campus, killing time until Celtics owner Harry Mangurian's private Lear jet lands slightly after 3 p.m. Mangurian is dressed like a Celtic - green slacks, yellow and green sports coat, with yellow shirt and solid green tie. Just before the two huddle privately in the public waiting room of Piedmont Airlines, an airport attendant poses the question, "Why can't you do this with Sampson? You make a deal with him now, but he stays and plays here at Virginia before he goes to play for you fellas in Boston." Red shakes his head and goes over the sales pitch with Mangurian, waiting for Virginian Terry Holland to arrive and lead the way to Sampson's house, 50 miles away in Harrisonburg.

"I know this kid's a helluva player and all," says Mangurian. "But we're going to treat him like a first-round draft choice. We can't put him in the same spot as a Larry Bird or a Magic Johnson. "You get in a situation like this and the numbers can become unrealistic. We're fighting time here. It's like a guy is selling a house and overprices it. Eventually he has to come down when he realizes people aren't going to pay the type of money he thinks. But that generally takes time. What have we got, 17 or 18 days (until April 25, when Sampson, a freshman, has to declare to the league office if he is going to come out of school into the draft as a hardship case)?"

Terry Holland, tall and shirt-sleeved despite the pouring rain outside, arrives smiling. He knows Auerbach from being at basketball camps in years past. "Maybe I should leave you here," he says, smiling while reaching to shake Auerbach's hand.Holland coaches the University of Virginia basketball team. Ralph Sampson is his franchise. For every year that Ralph Sampson stays on campus, a postseason tourney bid is virtually assured. Their team won the NIT this year, and all five starters are due to return.

Holland is joined by Sam Thompson, a law professor at the university, who will join the discussion as a legal adviser. The trek through the Blue Ridge Mountains to Harrisonburg begins. At some point in the mountains the fog is so thick it's tough to see the taillights of the car just 50 yards in front.

But Terry Holland knows the road by heart.

"You can only visit a house three times," said Holland of the wild scene a year before when he was trying to recruit Sampson, who had offers from every major school in the country after averaging 30 points, 20 rebounds and 6 blocked shots a game in high school.
"The good thing we had going for us was being so close that we could come over and watch his games. They guarded him like Fort Knox. Wouldn't really let anyone talk to him. But we knew he saw us, and that then he knew how interested we were.

"The schools really after him became paranoid. They thought someone had the inside track. Ralph became the last top prospect in the country to declare." At 6:45 p.m., Holland drove his car to the front door of a small house at 530 Myrtle st. in a quaint neighborhood with small single-family houses. The sign on the lawn and the big S at the screen door weren't necessary to know it was Ralph Sampson's house.

Outside were reporters, radio announcers and TV camera crews. By actual count there were 20, who in the boredom of the two-hour wait in the drizzle took a poll, splitting, 10-10, on Sampson's eventual decision. At 8:45, the door swung open and Mangurian came out first, squinting into the TV lights. "We had a nice meeting. They said sthey will give us an answer in two days. In my own personal opinion, I felt good vibes in the room."

Holland hustled past reporters to his car. "We asked a lot of questions, they gave us a lot of answers. Basically, what it comes down to is, does Ralph want to play with the Celtics? He knows he won't get a chance to play with them again." "It boiled down to this," said Thompson, the legal adviser. "Ralph has a decision to make, and he's the only one who can make it."