The Celtics Have Phil Woolpert to Thank for the First 11 Banners

Phil Woolpert (December 15, 1915 - May 7, 1987) was an American college basketball coach. In 1950, Woolpert was hired by the University of San Francisco to become the men's basketball coach and athletic director. During his nine-year tenure at USF, Woolpert posted a 153-78 record, including a 60-game win streak that at the time was the longest in college basketball (surpassed later by John Wooden's 88 straight wins at UCLA.). He is best known for coaching the University of San Francisco Dons to two straight national championships in 1955 and 1956.

--Wikipedia

There you have the standard account of Phil Woolpert's career. Impressive, but lacking the debt of gratitude that Red Auerbach, the Boston Celtics, and all of Celtics Nation owe him. In The Rivalry: Bill Russell, Wilt Chamberlain, and the Golden Age of Basketball, John Taylor recounts how Woolpert was singularly responsible for Bill Russell and KC Jones having decided to go to college, play basketball, and not go straight to work out of high school.

While Bill Russell was a good high school player by his senior season, he was largely ignored by college and university basketball programs. In fact, on the day Russell planned to apply for a job at the local sheet-metal factory near his home, he received a visit from Hal DeJulio, one of Woolpert's assistant coaches, asking Russell to try out for USF. The rest is history. A year earlier, Woolpert had rescued KC Jones from his job at the post-office with a scholarship offer. In Russell's freshman year, Woolpert assigned #6 to room with the sophomore Jones. The two soon became inseparable, and would stay that way through two college national championships and eight NBA titles.

Sounds to me like but for Phil Woolpert, the Celtics tradition that we all celebrate might not exist.

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.

The Sherman Douglas Shoe Saga Put in Perspective

5/8/1993

Red Auerbach was admitted to Massachusetts General Hospital Friday night after he suffered chest pains and will undergo a catheterization procedure tomorrow morning to determine whether surgery is necessary.

The 75-year-old Celtics president felt a tightness in his chest while attending the team breakup dinner in Boston. When he returned to his apartment in the Prudential Center area, the pain returned, and he telephoned his personal physician, Roman DeSanctis of Mass. General.

"Red is resting comfortably and he will stay in the intensive care unit until we get the catheterization done on Monday morning," said DeSanctis.

"He did not have a heart attack, but after he called me Friday night and explained what happened to him, I thought it best to bring him into the hospital."

The Auerbach situation extends the Celtics' season of turbulence even after their elimination from the playoffs. It comes on the heels of Reggie Lewis' hospitalization for cardiac abnormalities after he collapsed on the court during a game, which was followed by Kevin McHale's retirement announcement. Earlier in the season, there was controversy surrounding Marcus Webb's alleged confrontation with police, an incident that has never been proven to have occurred, plus the rookie's later arrest on a rape charge; Robert Parish's arrest for marijuana possession; and Sherman Douglas' sudden hiatus from the club after removing his shoes during a game and refusing to return to action..

A Look at DJ's First Month in Green

November 1984

You can make a case for Magic Johnson, Sidney Moncrief, Isiah Thomas or Michael Jordan, but this typist believes that Dennis Johnson has been the best guard in the league for the first month of the season.

Think about it. Acknowledged as the league's premier defensive guard, DJ has been giving the Celtics 20 points, 6 assists, 5 rebounds and 38 minutes per game, while shooting an astounding (for him) 50 percent from the floor.

He plays with pain and without fear, bringing experience and accomplishment to the Celtic backcourt. His defense is legend, and his newfound outside shot has forced opponents to re-structure their defensive strategy. DJ will be back on the All-Star team this year, and if the players had a vote, he'd probably be starting.

How do they sleep at night in Phoenix? The trade looked lopsided the day it was made, but as the months pass, DJ-for-Rick Robey looks more and more ridiculous. We're talking Frank Robinson for Milt Pappas, Sparky Lyle for Danny Cater, Manhattan Island for trinkets, beads and 20 bucks. Maybe Red Auerbach should ask Jerry Colangelo if the Celtics can get Walter Davis for Greg Kite. It wouldn't be any sillier than the deal they made on June 27, 1983.

The Dennis Johnson Precedent

August 24, 1983

Like a lot of folks, Dennis Johnson has trouble making sense of the pre-draft deal which sent driftwood Rick Robey to the Suns in exchange for one of the NBA's finest guards. DJ is a 6-4, 28-year-old guard who was the MVP of the 1979 playoffs. He's a four-time All-Star and has been named to the league's All-Defensive Team in each of the last five seasons, a feat matched only by Walt Frazier. In his seven NBA seasons, he's averaged 15 points, 4.5 rebounds and 3.5 assists per game while shooting 44 percent from the floor and 77 percent for the line. He missed only 15 of 574 regular-season games since joining Seattle in 1976.

Robey, meanwhile, averaged 14 minutes and 4.2 points per game in 1982-83 and spent the second half of the year in Bill Fitch's doghouse. For reasons still buried in the vast heart of Fitch, Robey ceased to exist after January.

How were the Celtics able to get DJ for Robey?

Most NBA observers still think Phoenix will have the last laugh. Fair or unfair, Johnson has been branded as immature, moody, and a disruptive force. Why else, it is asked, would a player of his talents be traded twice during his prime?

For example, DJ's former coach Lenny Wilkens had plenty of bad things to say about DJ when the Sonics dealt him to Phoenix for Paul Westphal in 1980. Johnson was labeled a pouter. Seattle officials still remember DJ sulking on the sidelines, while his teammates went through a shooting practice a few hours before the Sonics were eliminated from the 1980 playoffs by the Lakers. DJ was traded a month later.

"I talked with Lenny," says Celtics' coach K. C. Jones. "He said he had some difficulties with Dennis out there, but that after the trade Dennis sat down and talked things over in an apologetic tone. As far as I'm concerned DJ comes to play and is a worker. He volunteered to come to this camp."

The Suns claim they've had no trouble selling the trade to their fans. Says Phoenix GM Jerry Colangelo, "we knew we were giving up a very good player in Dennis Johnson, but there were things about his game that didn't necessarily fit in with Phoenix. He has a tendency to pound the ball. He doesn't get the ball up the floor as well as we'd like."

"The trade is past history and there's nothing I can do about it. I have to thank Phoenix for sending me to a championship contender. I know what Boston can do, and with me as an addition, I think I can help take things further.

"I'm ready to go. They're going to get the best of me."

The 1986 Boston Celtics in a Nutshell

Some of you may remember when the 1986 NBA Finals on DVD first arrived at my house. I confess. It was a religious experience. Some of you may also remember that I'm a big advocate of delayed gratification. So while I did immediately watch games 1, 2, and 3 of the '86 Finals, I stopped there. After all, I had other things to do. The 1986 DVDs arrived in the middle of the 2008 Finals. So I put the 1986 DVDs away, until now.

Was George Gervin Better than DJ?

I mean, really, is he?

So Ice won a few scoring titles.

Whoopie.

I just don't see how a one-dimensional guy like Ice gets enough votes for Naismith, while a multidimensional threat like DJ is left to wander the world in purgatory.

This really irks me. The Isiah-DJ discussion is silly by comparison. No one doubts that Isiah was one of the all-time great point guards. But George Gervin was a scorer, pure and simple. That shouldn't be enough to get you into the Hall over players that were multidimensional threats.

While sitting out 3 games due to injury, Gervin's replacement, Ron Brewer, averaged over 30 ppg. When Gervin returned, he scored 40+ points. When asked if he was sending a message, Gervin said, "Just the way the Lord planned it" and added, "Ice be cool" (with Ron Brewer). LINK

Can you see DJ doing something like that? Well, can you?

Yesterday, we read that Magic Johnson called-out DJ as one of the best defenders ever. Even Gervin said that no one defended better than DJ.

Pat Riley Appreciated the Bird-Magic Rivalry

1984 NBA Finals

GAME 1

Larry v. Magic: Game-by-Game Summary

Larry v. Magic: Game-by-Game Media Coverage

"HERE, look at this," the Los Angeles Lakers' coach, Pat Riley, said one recent afternoon as he sat in his bright and spacious office at the Forum in Inglewood, Calif. He handed his visitor a large black-and-white photograph. "Isn't it something?" he asked.

Is KG Bill Russell?

2009-10 Playoffs			FG		3PT		FT		Rebounds			Misc
	G	MIN	FGM-A	FG%	3PM-A	3P%	FTM-A	FT%	OFF	DEF	TOT	STL	BLK	TO	PF	AST	PTS
Totals	16	34.0	104-213	.488	0-1	.000	30-37	.811	1.5	6.7	8.2	1.00	.69	1.25	2.88	2.3	14.9
vs. ORL	6	32.7	28-72	.389	0-0	.000	6-9	.667	1.7	6.3	8.0	1.00	.67	.67	2.67	2.3	10.3
vs. CLE	6	34.3	50-96	.521	0-1	.000	13-13	1.000	1.3	6.7	8.0	.50	.83	1.33	3.33	2.2	18.8
vs. MIA	4	35.3	26-45	.578	0-0	.000	11-15	.733	1.5	7.3	8.8	1.75	.50	2.00	2.50	2.5	15.8

Remember when the Kevin Garnett rumors first began to swirl around the Hub? A sizable and vocal contingent of fans vehemently opposed acquiring Garnett if acquiring him meant losing Al Jefferson. Garnett's career was in its twilight, and, anyway, he couldn't win and never seemed to produce in the clutch. A smaller, less vocal contingent of fans compared Garnett to Bill Russell, and thus favored the deal. The former contingent howled with laughter upon hearing the Garnett-Russell comparison.

Both contingent's were right. Garnett had clocked a lot-0-minutes on those legs, but, in his one healthy season with the Celtics, KG reminded just about everyone who saw Russell play that he was indeed a throwback to the days of #6. There were some (announcers even) who swore Kevin Garnett was Bill Russell, at least during the 2007-08 NBA season.

Fast forward two years, and the same fans who compared KG to Russ are now just happy KG isn't the second coming of Bill Walton, which is to say a "one-and-doner." That's how I had KG pegged. I mean, didn't he choose to wear that darned number? That god forsaken #5? And with it came the curse, the Walton curse. But now, all of a sudden, KG seems to be back. He seems to have risen from the ashes. And let's be frank here, the timing is good. If KG plays 85% of what he did during the 2008 NBA Finals, the Celtics win in 6.

But The Ticket is not all the way back, not yet.

There's still plenty of room for him to improve.

Does he have it in him?

Can he elevate his game a la Kareem Abdul Jabbar during the 1985 and 1987 Finals?

That's what I want, and that's Celticdom is hoping for. And if the Bill Russell comparisons are fair, KG needs more than one ring to justify the comparisons. He needs to remind Kobe that there's more than one superstar in the 2010 NBA Finals.

Doc Rivers: Coach of the Year

There were practically tremors in the basketball world (location, Boston) when the notion surfaced before the playoffs about the possibility of Rivers' stepping aside next season.

Paul Pierce was asked about just that Monday.

"I hadn't really thought about that. Are you concerned I'm going to leave?" Pierce responded.

Now that would be quite a headline to kick off the Finals.

One of the lines of questioning with Pierce had to do with Rivers' stabilizing force as coach, the ability to stay unruffled when things were at their darkest for the Celtics in an injury-riddled second half of the season.

"You can see, at times, you play for coaches when things aren't going right," Pierce said. "Practices get harder and yelling becomes louder.

"Doc is a cool customer. He didn't panic. He didn't get louder. He just stuck with the game plan. A lot of times when you go through a stretch we went through -- we lost five games out of six, seven out of 10, you kind of tell through a coach's body language that things are going [poorly] ... you never really saw that with Doc."

--LA TIMES

He won't win it. But, all things considered, most of those things of recent vintage, he deserves to win it.

Nostradamus Picks the Celtics

I say they win the championship. This is the last roundup for these guys. The three-year window of the Big Three is about to close. It’s highly unlikely that they’ll all still be here, healthy, in any future season.

--Dan Shaughnessy

You remember, Mr. Shaughnessy, right?

Boston Globe, March 16:

“Everybody around here is simply too negative. Not me. I still believe. I don’t care if the Celtics are 2-9 against the Cavaliers, Magic, and Hawks. Seeing them lose at home to the New Jersey Nets doesn’t discourage me. Getting whupped by the Grizz by 20 at the Garden is OK. Sometimes you’ve just got to see the glass as half-full. This is one of those times . . . Count me in. Put me on the Big Green Bus. I believe.’’

Boston Globe, April 15:

“This group was ready for the playoffs on Oct. 27. The regular season was little more than a nuisance and they made sure we all knew it. The Celtics went through the motions for 82 games with one goal in mind: Be healthy in the playoffs . . . it’s all OK. As long as they peak in the playoffs . . . Going through the motions through the holidays was just fine with me. I just wanted to see Kevin Garnett, Paul Pierce, and Ray Allen still running the floor in April. So here we are. And they’re all healthy . . . They’ll beat Cleveland . . . I’m taking the Celtics over the Heat, then again over the mighty Cavaliers.’’

Pretty impressive.

Florida Celts Fan also stuck by this team through their 27-27 finish to the regular season.

But we'll talk more about her and the 1969 Boston Celtics later, after we hoist banner 18 in a couple of weeks.

Cowens Once Feigned Disnterest in Celtics Resurgence

Dave Cowens, whose uniform No. 18 is retired in the TD Banknorth Garden rafters, said he loosened his ties with the organization over the years after becoming head coach of the Charlotte Hornets (1997-99) and Warriors (2001-03). ``The Celtics' slide wasn't hard for me because I was working for other people and doing other things,'' Cowens said.

As a former Boston Celtics player, were you then surprised by the resurgence of the Celtics? "I didn't really think about it one way or the other. I knew they were going to be a lot better than they were last year with getting those player. Ray Allen and Kevin Garnett are two of the better players in this league."

LINK

Christ. You need to loosen up a bit, Dave. I mean, I understand being employed by other teams and all. But you were a Boston Celtic. You still are a Boston Celtic. You and the Celtics will be forever linked in the minds of basketball fans everywhere. Larry Bird, a consummate professional in his own right, even had something nice to say about the Celtics' rebirth:

And though he runs a team that competes against both the Lakers and Celtics, Bird has a decided interest in the outcome of tonight’s game 6 of the 2008 NBA Finals. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “I want the Celtics to win it."

LINK to rest of Bird article.

After the Celtics did win it, Bird said this:

The outcome pleased Celtics legend Larry Bird, who was among those who waited 22 years to hoist another banner. "I'm happy for the Celtics and the city of Boston. I know what it means to win a championship as a Celtic and the place championships hold in the history of the franchise," Pacers President Bird said.

Aren't the Celtics Clever

2008

John Havlicek presents the Eastern Conference Championship Trophy to Wyc Grousbeck.

John Havlicek wore #17.

Celtics go on to win banner 17.

2010

Dave Cowens presents the Eastern Conference Championship Trophy to Wyc Grousbeck.

Dave Cowens wore #18.

Celtics now pursue banner 18.

See a pattern here?

How clever.

At Long Last

I think the first playoff game will tell it. So we've got to wait and see. I know a lot of guys have been in the playoffs so it's not nothing new to them. I've seen guys turn it one when they had to. It's going to be interesting.

--Kendrick Perkins

In the words of Bob Ryan, so how'd ya like the 82-game exhibition season?

Have the Celtics been lying in wait?

Do they have another gear?

Does KG have two legs to play on or just one?

Ladies and gentlemen, we're about to find out.

FINALLY

1988 NBA Playoffs: Will Bill Walton be in Uniform?

April 7, 1988

If it's the "Bill Walton in uniform for the next game" story you've been waiting to read, forget about the next few paragraphs.

The news out of practice at Hellenic College yesterday was that the Celtics will travel to Madrid in October to represent the NBA and the United States in the McDonald's Basketball Open.

The first such international three-team tournament was won by the host Milwaukee Bucks last year.

This year's field will be expanded to four teams that will play on Oct. 21 and 23. The Celtics will be joined by Real Madrid, the champion of the Italian League, and a European national team to be selected.

Two doubleheaders will be played, with the winners meeting for the championship and the losers vying for third place.

"The NBA came to us last November to see if we could fit it into our exhibition schedule -- which is usually filled a couple of years in advance," said general manager Jan Volk. "We were able to and we're very excited to be able to participate."

On the subject of Mr. Walton, who played in two consecutive quarters of a three-quarter scrimmage game yesterday, Volk said the redheaded center's return is really up to one person -- Walton.

There were a couple of reports yesterday that Walton was about ready to suit up for tomorrow night's game at Boston Garden vs. New Jersey, but Volk said that had not been determined.

"I haven't talked to Bill about it," said Volk. "I'm not expecting him back Friday, but . . . "

The fact that the GM ended his sentence with "but" makes sense in that the final word on whether Walton will return will be from Walton, coach K.C. Jones and the medical staff.

It's not a question of "if" but of "when."

Walton had surgery on his right foot and ankle last July 7 and hasn't been in the lineup since last year's playoffs, in which he saw limited action.

According to Celtics public relations official Jeff Twiss, Walton was told by team physician Arnold Scheller that he must proceed through several medical stages to determine his progress.

Walton began practicing a month ago, and yesterday's hard run was his most strenuous.

"He was looking good today," said Jones. "I asked Jim (Paxson) what he thought of cutting out there on the floor when Bill has the ball, and he said to me he could make a career off Bill's passing.

"Coming back is up to him," added K.C. "When he tells me he's ready, that's when we'll deal with it. I haven't talked to him about it. Right now I'm gonna work on my Spanish."

Walton looked quite strong at times, and also quite winded after playing 16 straight minutes. He went right to the weights after practice.

Although he isn't talking publicly about a return date, Walton reportedly told teammates prior to practice that he might not be quite ready to rejoin them tomorrow.

His intensity in practice was game-like, and his passing was superb.

"He's still a great passer. He sees everybody out there," said Jones.

Exactly when Celtics fans will have a chance to see 1986 playoff force Walton back in action was a question that couldn't be answered.

So put yesterday's "Walton Returns" story in the scrapbook with "Dewey Defeats Truman" -- but just for the time being.

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."

Was George Gervin Better than DJ?

I mean it. Who was better?

So Ice won a few scoring titles.

Whoopie.

I just don't see how a one-dimensional guy like Ice gets enough votes for Naismith, while a multidimensional threat like DJ is left to wander the world in purgatory.

This really irks me. The Isiah-DJ discussion is silly by comparison. No one doubts that Isiah was one of the all-time great point guards. But George Gervin was a scorer, pure and simple. That shouldn't be enough to get you into the Hall over players that were multidimensional threats.

While sitting out 3 games due to injury, Gervin's replacement, Ron Brewer, averaged over 30 ppg. When Gervin returned, he scored 40+ points. When asked if he was sending a message, Gervin said, "Just the way the Lord planned it" and added, "Ice be cool" (with Ron Brewer). LINK

Can you see DJ doing something like that? Well, can you?

Yesterday, we read that Magic Johnson called-out DJ as one of the best defenders ever. Even Gervin said that no one defended better than DJ.

Celtics Gearing Up for the Playoffs

Magic on DJ: One of the Best Defenders Ever

The Celtics always played a great team defense. But they also had one of the best individual defensive players probably to ever play in the league, that being Dennis Johnson. I had to match up against him. Boy, that was a tough match-up every time.

--Magic Johnson

9-Time All-Defense
6-Finals Appearances
5-Time All-Star
3-Time NBA Champion
2-Time All-NBA
1-Time Finals MVP
Second best guard of his generation (1977-86)

Sounds like Hall of Fame to me. What took Mr. Naismith so long?

Adande on DJ

J.A. Adande

Dennis Johnson and I grew to be friendly enough that I felt comfortable telling him I hated him.

He laughed and took it as a compliment. If I was a teenage Laker fan when he played for the Boston Celtics in the 1980s, he must have been doing something right for me to hate him.

He did more than just "right." He was great -- and a major deterrent to the Lakers. His defense forced Magic Johnson into back-to-back turnovers and killed the Lakers' last hopes in Game 7 of the 1984 NBA Finals. His jump shot won Game 4 of the 1985 Finals and forced the Lakers to head back to Boston Garden to exorcise the demons from their decades of losing to the Celtics.

The height of athletic achievement is to be at your best when it matters most. That applied to Dennis Johnson, a three-time champion, the most valuable player of the 1979 NBA Finals, a man whose career playoff averages exceeded his regular-season numbers.

But what defined his life after his playing days was the ordinary but admirable way he kept, well, showing up, always finding some form of work in the basketball world, never abandoning his dream of being an NBA head coach.

He was an assistant coach with the Celtics. He spent the first three years of this decade with the Clippers, which is how I got to know him. He coached in the CBA. He scouted for the Portland Trail Blazers.

A month ago he popped up in a humorous story on the Internet about the Austin Toros' mascot running onto the court and dunking while the game was being played and the outcome still in doubt. I discovered Johnson was coaching the Toros in the NBA's Development League when he was interviewed in a local TV story about the incident that was linked in the blogs.

Unfortunately, most people learned about Johnson's latest job when they read his obituary last week. He died of an apparent heart attack after a Toros practice Thursday, his life cut short at 52.

The hardest thing to believe is that he won't be showing up anymore. In its own way, his continued persistence was just as admirable as his many clutch performances.

"He was sort of my hero," said Gary Colson, Johnson's coach at Pepperdine, "because of the circumstances."

Johnson was one of 16 children. He was the team's 10th man his senior year at Dominguez High in Compton and he took a year off after high school to work and help the family. He went to L.A. Harbor College, whose coach called Colson to tell him about Johnson.

"We go watch him," Colson said. "He's not great, but he's got some natural ability."

He came to Pepperdine, where he averaged 15.7 points a game in his only season. Colson said Johnson wasn't the best player on the team, just its most resilient.

"During Christmas, his house burns down," Colson said. "His mom and dad get a divorce. She wants to take him out of school, but we convinced her that he should stay in school.

"A few years later they hung his jersey [number] in Boston Garden. The Cinderella story just amazes me."

He did it with a stepsister body. His shoulders sagged, all his weight seemed to collect down by his torso. But if you wanted someone to shut down all the high fliers and quick dribblers, Johnson was the man. Six times on the NBA all-defensive first team, and three times on the second team.

Johnson never averaged 20 points in any of his seasons with the Seattle SuperSonics, Phoenix Suns and Celtics. It's not the numbers that are relevant, it's the memories: Larry Bird never hesitated to give Johnson the ball in crunch time, which is really all you need to know about him.

"He was a complete player," Colson said. "Very consistent. Very steady. He didn't shoot well as a college player, but in the pros he became pretty proficient."

He always overcame, which is why I'm convinced he would have been a good head coach if given a better shot. His lone chance came when he took over the Clippers when Alvin Gentry was fired in 2003. Some opportunity. The team was 19-39, on its way to yet another lottery. A UPS delivery man would've been a better choice, because the players had packed it in. His NBA coaching record stands at 8-16.

The way Johnson discovered he had been relieved of his duties was even less glorious. He was coaching the team's summer league entry, hoping to stick on full time. Every day he received a faxed packet of information from the team. One day the packet mistakenly included terms of a contract offer to Mike Dunleavy. The official phone call didn't come until later that night.

Johnson just held his tongue, said the right things the way he always did. He was a good guy to be around, and the fact he'll never set foot in another NBA arena is the league's loss as much as anything.

He should have already been recognized as the Hall of Famer he was.