Number “6”, Mr. Bill Russell, transitioned recently after giving us his best for nearly 90 years. Upon entering Heaven, loud trumpets and pronouncements were likely obsolete. His signature cackling laugh heralded his arrival.
From Louisiana to Oakland (McClymonds), the University of San Francisco, Boston and all points beyond, he was adept at palpating the collective pulse of humanity.
THUNDER DOWN UNDER
In 1956, Melbourne, Australia, hosted the Olympic games. Three African-Americans were on the United States Basketball roster: Bill Russell, K.C. Jones, and Carl “Sugar” Cane. While touring the city, a group of Australians in awe–and ignorance–had assembled behind the triad.
One local murmured, “They must be Zulus from Africa!” [1]
Mr. “Russ”, having been warmly greeted by the nation in general, chose to laugh it off—this time. He and his brethren had bigger fish to fry. They shellacked all opposition en route to the gold medal, culminating in an 89-55 win in the final round over the Soviet Union.
Born in “Jim Crow” (Monroe) Louisiana and raised in Oakland, California, Bill Russell drew hard lines in the sand, which one could not breach. The results could be cataclysmal if one were bold enough to cross him. He was always “in it to win it.” As the Celtics’ undisputed leader—later—despite his public depiction, he went out of his way to cultivate racial harmony among his teammates.
“He hosted teammates in his Reading, Massachusetts home; they visited his restaurant [Slade’s in Roxbury] for the barbecue or sweet potato pie. While a callow rookie, 7-foot Mel Counts was surprised when Russell offered him a ride home in his Lamborghini–a small gesture that built an easy camaraderie. Russell also makes grander offerings. After practice on Christmas Eve of 1965, he learned that new teammate Don Nelson was spending Christmas alone. Russell invited him to his Reading domicile. Nelson demurred, not wishing to intrude. But Russell insisted. The next day, the Russells had wrapped presents for Nelson, and he had a great time. ‘I’ll never forget that,’ said Nelson. ‘No one can ever say anything bad about Bill Russell to me.’” [1]
RUSSELL v. CHAMBERLAIN
Inevitably, if one discusses the career and legacy of Bill Russell, another name enters the equation: Wilt Chamberlain.
They were together often. The press clamored for them to be sworn adversaries, but despite their in-game warfare, that was not the case once the battles ceased. During the regular season, if one were hosting, he would pick up his would-be opponent from the airport. The two giants were close. Thanksgiving dinners were alternated at each other’s homes annually when Wilt played for Philadelphia and Russell for Boston. They conversed more often about topics other than basketball. Both wore goatees by the mid-1960s, further vexing and enraging the league’s white establishment. Wilt (7’2″, 275-300 pounds) was labeled as a selfish ball hog concerned only with his monster statistics. He was (on the hardwood) painted as the villain. Unfortunately, he was also tagged (unfairly) as a loser by the media. Chamberlain was Goliath to Russell’s David. Bill (6’9″, 230 pounds) led his Boston Celtics to eleven (11) championships in thirteen (13) seasons and was a winner. His triumphs, however, were offset by his persona when in everyday life: an unapologetic activist. Russ was considered surly, uppity, mean, and cold by most sportswriters. He might shake your hand, but don’t dare ask for an autograph. As his career advanced, Chamberlain was the pleasant and genial guy—off the court. Bill played for the Boston Celtics—not the city—and lived by a simple motto, “I owe the public nothing.” Their profession and Blackness yoked them during turbulent, changing times.
Along the way, however, Russell’s Celtics consistently bested Wilt’s teams (Philadelphia, San Francisco) for championship rings nearly every spring, from 1960-1966. In 1967, Wilt’s Philadelphia 76’ers broke through and finally won it all, trouncing Boston in the Eastern Division Finals in his only career playoff win against Bill’s squads. Over that decade, petty jealousies had insidiously developed. Chamberlain (mid-career) earned an announced base salary of $100,000. Russell, citing his number of championships over individual records, went to his team’s management and insisted on a salary of $100,001. The fact that Chamberlain’s publicized salary was the after-tax amount was unknown to most. Wilt, known for being arrogant and self-assured, was a shrewd negotiator and businessman.
In 1968, Wilt became a staunch Richard Nixon supporter, believing he would have some influence over the Republican Party (à la Steve Harvey, Jim Brown, or Ray Lewis with “45”) as a member of “Tricky Dick’s” inner circle. Covertly, this would become an issue with Russell, a prominent participant in the Civil Rights Movement (down to running integrated basketball camps in Mississippi after the murder of Medgar Evers, at Charles Evers’ request). To Chamberlain’s credit, he later admitted that it was an egregious miscalculation, saying, “As it turned out, I was deceiving myself about having much input in the White House after Richard was elected…I was pretty naive…Does that mean he exploited me? Sure.” [2]
Wilt was a fabulous jet-setter who brandished his high-rolling bachelor lifestyle. Russell’s marriage, by the mid-60s, was crumbling, and he coveted some of what Chamberlain enjoyed as a lothario. Under the surface, the schism was unfolding. Often in public, he was not asked if he was Bill Russell. The question posed to him was, “Are you, Wilt?”
Both possessed gargantuan egos. It all came to a head in 1969, after game seven of the NBA Finals between Wilt’s (favored and home) Los Angeles Lakers and Russell’s (aging underdog) Boston Celtics. In the closing moments (5:19 remaining), with L.A. trailing by nine points, Wilt exited the game with an apparent knee injury. Chamberlain was in obvious pain, and as he sat down on the bench, the trainer administered ice and a spray form of lidocaine. Surprisingly, the hot-shooting Celtics went cold, and the Lakers pulled to within a point with backup center Mel Counts (now a Laker). Chamberlain signaled to the coach, Butch Van Breda Koloff, twice that he was ready to resume playing and stood up.
“Sit your big-a** down,” screamed Van Breda Koloff, “we’re playing better without you!” [3],[4]
The coach, never a fan of Wilt’s, thought Chamberlain was malingering to avoid blame for another playoff loss to Bill Russell’s Celtics and astonishingly kept him on the bench. In a surreal moment, Lakers owner Jack Kent Cooke attempted to intervene, demanding that the coach insert Wilt (with 18 points and 27 rebounds) back into the game. Van Breda Kolff denounced his boss with a resounding, “F*** OFF!”
The Lakers lost 108-106. Coach Van Breda Kolff was immediately fired (rumors were rampant that he already had a handshake deal with the Detroit Pistons for the following season). Still, more than a handful of people thought that Wilt had quit. On a speaking tour weeks later, Russell revealed, perhaps via provocation, that he was one of them. Bill had never spoken negatively against Wilt during all their years as opponents. All it took was one spark: a University of Wisconsin student implying that Wilt was “obviously more talented,” and Russell had won because he had superior teammates.
Irritated, Bill gathered himself and fired, “I think [Wilt] copped out in the last game [seven]. Any injury short of a broken leg and a broken back isn’t good enough. When he took himself out of that final game, when he ‘hurt’ his knee, well, I wouldn’t have put him back in the game either, even though I think he’s great. I never said Chamberlain didn’t have talent. But basketball is a team game. I go by the number of championships. I played to bring out the best in my teammates. Are you going to tell me that he brought out the best in [Elgin] Baylor and [Jerry] West?” [4]
Russell continued, “I’d have to say yes and no about whether criticism about Wilt is justified. No, because people see his potential as greater than it is. They don’t take human frailties into consideration. Yes, because he ASKS for it. He talks a lot about what he’s going to do. What it’s all about is winning and losing, and he’s done a lot of losing. He thinks he’s a genius. He isn’t.” [4]
Before the event, Russell had stipulated that no pictures or press would be allowed: students only. So much for contractual provisions when the host ignores them. Tucked away in the back corner of the lecture hall, a gentleman named Steve Klein of the Wisconsin State Journal was transcribing notes with precision. The following day “RUSSELL KNOCKS WILT” was a national headline. In the aftermath, Wilt Chamberlain would not talk to Bill Russell for the next twenty-four years!
Russell apologized, first privately, then publically. They became close again until Chamberlain passed away in 1999. According to Russell, they frequently chatted via telephone for the last five years of Chamberlain’s life. Russell stated, “We would get on the phone and gossip like two ‘little old ladies!”
In the final analysis, they were human. Despite their athletic moxie, like anyone else off-duty, they were complicated. For what it’s worth, and with the aid of hindsight, each grew and evolved within the public eye. The stares and comments directed at these giants manufactured a common ground. Pride and envy occasionally oscillated that shared “parcel” to its absolute core. Both Russell and Chamberlain are now ancestors. Since the 1960s, they’ve been synonymous with the sport’s sovereign big men. Both are members of the NBA’s 75th Anniversary All-Time Team. If we ever reach a point where there is a 175th team selected, these two will still be unanimous choices.
Some individuals are indelibly linked within the athletic realm and in life. Ali had Frazier. Magic had Bird. Bill Russell and Wilt Chamberlain are forever intertwined. For African-Americans, with the backdrop of Vietnam, the assassinations of Malcolm, MLK, and RFK, riots, and an Olympic boycott, the time interval of the late 1960s was a maelstrom. Russell was the ultimate visionary. Competitiveness, which was indigenous to both of them, contributed to dissension. Wilt, with a good heart, and a fragile psyche, eventually reached a reconciliation with Russell. Neither was perfect. They will remain amalgamated with one another for eternity.
The game’s history, and more importantly, these iconic constituents, were better for it.
RUNNIN’ A BOSTON & POINTS BEYOND
Envision, if only for a split second, that you’re not merely a star, but a superstar, utilizing your prevalent dais to advance your people on every occasion. You’re doing so as a speaker, a crusader, a mentor, a writer, an athlete, risking your career and life in the cyclonic and tumultuous 1960s. You’re doing so in a metropolis that extolls you only for your athletic prowess, utterly dismissive of your mind, spirit, and passion.
Despite the mammoth on-court success, your home city’s “fans” burglarize your residence, trash your home, and smash your trophies. Ultimately—as the coup de grâce—they defecate on your bed and smear it on the walls, all because you dared to select an abode in “their” Reading, Massachusetts community.
For a time, usually, when his Celtics were away on road games, Russell’s home garbage cans would frequently be overturned. When the authorities were notified, in an attempt to downplay the event, the police had a simple rebuttal. According to his daughter Karen, the culprits, in their estimation, were raccoons! When Bill inquired about obtaining a gun permit, “the raccoons never returned.” [5] Ironically, years later, after Congress had passed The Freedom of Information Act, “my father requested his FBI file and found that he was repeatedly referred to therein as an ‘arrogant Negro who won’t sign autographs for white children,’” Karen wrote. [5]
Through all this, Russell persisted, standing tall, defiant, unapologetic, proud, and loud, the antithesis of injustice. And in the process, won a multitude of championships: eight consecutive, the latter two as both a player and a coach. As the first African-American head coach in the history of the NBA, his success reverberated elsewhere. “In basketball, Russell was a touchstone of Black leadership. According to K.C. Jones, ‘Russell was such a mental giant,’ he continued ‘with his back-to-back championships, it chipped away at the idea that Black coaches were a step below.’ Wayne Embry, a long-time Cincinnati Royals center, joined the Celtics and won a championship. However, he also ‘credited Russell for drawing [me] into a winning culture,’ fostering his later opportunities in management [with multiple NBA franchises].’” [1]
Even in baseball, when Frank Robinson “lobbied to break baseball’s managerial color line, he pointed to his former McClymonds High School teammate: ‘I think the fans are ready,’ he said in 1969. ‘Bill Russell proved that with the Boston Celtics. The world is ready now. It’ll judge an individual by the job he does.’ Robinson would not manage the Cleveland Indians until 1975. And the NFL had no Black coaches until 1989. By contrast, when the Knicks hired Willis Reed in 1977, Russell appreciated that ‘nobody said anything about [him] being Black. When I first was appointed, they made all this about my being the first Black coach, and I said then that the period it would become important was when nobody mentioned it anymore.’” [1]
Winning meant everything. If you were not playing to win, then Mr. Russell had no use for you whatsoever. During the 1969 NBA (mentioned above) Finals, Bill Russell, aging and in his last season, had acquired what he thought was a stellar backup while functioning as player-coach. Jim “Bad News” Barnes was a center received to help Russell out on the glass and spell him for periods guarding Chamberlain. Before the series, Barnes began complaining about back pain. Bill stared at him and promptly responded by not playing him in the championship series. Russell and teammate John “Hondo“ Havlicek played every minute of the seven-game stanza!
Later as a coach in Seattle, Russ was less than pleased with his Supersonics’ lack of hustle. After a losing streak and dealing with a squad riddled with dissension in 1977, Russell chastised his team in the locker room. He infamously told them, “You’re all a**holes,” criticizing them after a loss. He then turned around and bent over. “Kiss my a**.” [1] A decade later, while coaching the struggling Sacramento Kings, Russell summoned rookie guard Kenny “The Jet” Smith to the front of the team bus.
RUSSELL: “Young fella, you got to sit next to me.”
SMITH: “Why do I need to sit next to you?”
RUSSELL (pointing to various players): “Because he’s a loser, he’s a loser, he’s a loser. They’re never gonna win.” [6]
Smith continued, “Power forward, LaSalle Thompson wasn’t one of the guys he pointed at and [Thompson] said ‘you can’t call these guys losers, what are you doing?’ Russell replied. ‘I am trying to trade them. Nobody wants them; nobody wants them. If you don’t believe me, you can sit with me in the office.’” [6]
Russell is the greatest champion in NBA history, if not all of the sporting realm, having won consecutive NCAA championships in college, an Olympic gold medal (1956), and the aforementioned 11 NBA championships in 13 seasons. Yet, one other crown could have been added to the mix. Conceivably, sans an ankle injury in the 1958 NBA Finals against St. Louis, the Celtics also had a solid chance to win that series. No disrespect to Bob Pettit or the steady Cliff Hagan of the Hawks, but Russell‘s injury was significant. He could have quickly—if healthy—turned the tide and thus won 12 championships in his professional career.
Russell was inducted twice into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame, first in 1975 as a player, then in 2021 as a coach. The NBA Finals MVP award was named after Russell in 2009. In 2011, then-President Barack Obama awarded him the Presidential Medal of Freedom for his contributions to the game and the Civil Rights Movement. Long before his transition, he was already in rarefied air with humanitarians from athletics: Muhammad Ali, Jackie Robinson, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. No matter the era, Mr. Russell was always prepared to raise a fist or take a knee!
Throughout his post-playing days, Mr. Russell exhibited unwavering support for multitudes of athletes. More importantly, he embraced them. This champion was the undisputed ambassador for the sport of basketball. After reflecting on his public differences with Chamberlain, Russell had some words of wisdom for Shaquille O’Neal several years ago. “I had orders from the great Bill Russell,” O’Neal shared with ESPN in 2006. “Me and him were talking in Seattle the other day, and he was telling me how rivalries should be. I asked him if he ever disliked anybody he played against, and he told me, ‘No, never,’ and he told me that I should shake Kobe Bryant’s hand and let bygones be bygones and bury the hatchet.” [7]
William Felton Russell will be missed by many! For those encountering the natural grieving process, take solace in the words of educator and scholar nonpareil Dr. Greg Carr: “[One’s] passing is their initiation into eternity!”
An activist in every sense of the word, Mr. Russell never passed his torch; instead, he lit the torch for subsequent generations of players and members of society.
Thus, the sun–his spirit–never truly sets “After 6”.
By Dr. Eric Hawkins (“Dr. Hawk”)
The Hub.News/Knubia Sports
BIBLIOGRAPHY:
(1) Gouldsouzian, Aram. “King of the Court: Bill Russell & The Basketball Revolution.” University of California Press. Berkeley (2010) pp. 59, 181, 257, 264
(2) Shaw, David. “Wilt: Like Any Other 7-Foot Black Millionaire Who Lives Next Door”. MacMillan Publishing. New York (1973) p. 204
(3) Baylor, Elgin, Eisenstock, A. “Hang Time: My Life In Pro Basketball.” Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing. New York (2018) p. 286
(4) Montville, Leigh. “Tall Men, Short Shorts: The 1969 NBA Finals”. Doubleday Publishing. New York (2021) pp. 258, 283–84
(5) Russell, Karen. “Growing Up With Privilege & Prejudice.” The New York Times. June 14, 1987 (6) Bhattacharya, Ishann. “Kenny Smith Shared A Hilarious Story of When Bill Russell Was Coach of the Sacramento Kings.” Fadeaway World. August 2, 2022
(7) Quinn, Sam. “Bill Russell Did The Impossible When He Led The Celtics To Two Championships As Their Player-Coach.” CBS Sports/NBA. July 31, 2022