To this young teen watching his favorite professional basketball team, the Boston Celtics, Bill Russell seemed out of place as a Black man on an all-White team, at least at the beginning of his career. He also seemed incongruous because he was an incredibly fearsome and intimidating presence on the court though lacking the bulk of pre-Russell centers.
He had an uncanny ability to swat away balls; his 6’10” height and wingspan dominated the game and thrilled Celtic fans. Opponents did not share my fondness for a man on a mission, a person who had to endure racial taunts and despicable behavior (including graffiti on the walls of his Boston-area home and defecation on his bed). Off the court, he was no people-pleaser; it was not his style.
Russell recently died at 88, a much-respected figure in the professional basketball world and the civil rights arena. He played hard and smartly, studying opponents and their tendencies. He blocked shots with studied ease. He spoke out against bigotry, decrying the reservoir of racial bias in Boston.
He stood up to taller, stronger opponents like Wilt Chamberlain, confounding him and others with his ability and toughness. His voice of outrage was equally effective and unrestrained.
To modern-day followers of pro basketball, Russell might prompt “what’s the big deal” about another tall and talented center. They would be ill-advised to jump at this conclusion. This Celtic was special. He stood out at the beginning and end of his storied career, which included 11 championships and two championships as the player- coach of the Seattle Sonics.
He won the Most Valuable Player award five times. The award is named for him. And in 2011, President Barack Obama awarded Russell the Presidential Medal of Freedom.
This brainy player, who outwitted opposing players by knowing their moves and disrupting their style of play, dominated the court. It might be hard to imagine that his drive to win manifested itself in an unlikely pre-game routine: vomiting. The sound of upchucking sent a message to his teammates that he was ready to play. An unusual signal, to state the obvious.
The famed Celtics coach, Red Auerbach, drafted Russell for his shot-blocking skills, not his shooting capability. Auerbach had a stable of shooters. Yet Russell racked up nearly 16,000 points and nearly 22,000 rebounds during his career.
According to a “New York Times” obituary, Russell was “known for his ability to enhance the talents of his teammates even as he dominated the action, and to do it without bravado.” His accurate throws started many fast breaks. He eschewed dunking or gesturing to celebrate his achievements.
Scarred by prejudice beginning in his home state of Louisiana, this transformative basketballer was aloof, refusing to sign autographs. He preferred to shake a person’s hand and chat a few minutes.
Russell’s expanse of civil rights actions matched his wingspan on the basketball court He participated in the 1967 March on Washington where the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. intoned his powerful “I Have a Dream” speech. He supported Muhammad Ali when he refused to serve in the Vietnam War. He went to Mississippi after the civil rights activist Medgar Evers was murdered and worked with Evers’ brother to establish an integrated basketball camp in Jackson, Miss. And he cared little about public criticism.
After he died, every major newspaper and TV network carried news of this sports pioneer. His legacy of superior performance by a sleek, cerebral center will never diminish. He determined to understand the game and use his savvy intelligence to befuddle opponents and induce equally outstanding performances from his teammates.
My impression as a young teen of the Boston Celtics and a force of nature guarding the shot zone has stuck with me for nearly 65 years. When Bill Russell retired, along with his incomparable teammates, my interest in professional basketball evaporated. I witnessed ultimate teamwork.
Star players became money-hungry athletes. They failed to understand unselfishness as exemplified by the great Bill Russell.
Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.
Jon Powers says
Nice testimonial to Wilt, Mr. Freedlander. Thanks.