When the Game Was Ours - Larry Bird [38]
When Bird reported to rookie camp, Auerbach coaxed him into playing tennis in between sessions. Then, when the regular season started, Larry became Auerbach's regular racquetball partner.
"Red was an angles guy," Bird said. "I hate to admit this, but he did cheat on the score. He really hated losing."
Occasionally Auerbach would take Bird to eat at his favorite Chinese restaurant in Marshfield, Massachusetts, where the team's rookie camp was held. It was there that Auerbach would recite the proud history of the franchise Bird was joining.
"It's an honor to be a Celtic," Auerbach told him. "You should never forget that."
The Celtics' summer league digs were no-frills accommodations that included courts with rims of varying heights. Auerbach ran a summer camp for kids there, and his pro players were expected to eat with the campers in the mess hall and lecture the kids in between workouts. Normally veterans didn't bother to attend, but once word got out that Bird was in town, M. L. Carr and Dave Cowens just happened to drop in.
Cowens was a Celtics favorite, an undersized center who played All-Star basketball with uncommon passion and energy. He was the best front-court player on the team when Bird arrived. Carr was a wily veteran who had come over from Detroit, where he led the league in steals. Auerbach warned Bird ahead of time that Carr would jump his passing lanes and try to distract him with his nonstop banter.
"I got this one," said Carr, pointing to Bird the first time they scrimmaged.
Carr poked him, banged him, muscled him. "C'mon, rook," he said, in a voice low enough for Bird and no one else to hear, "is that all you've got?"
Because Auerbach had tipped him off, Bird was careful to step forward to meet the ball, thereby cutting down on Carr's opportunities to pick off the pass. He also refused to be rattled by Carr's chatter. Bird was content to feed his new teammates with scoring opportunities while eschewing most of his own.
"I've never seen anyone who could beat you with the pass the way Larry did," Carr said. "He'd bait you and bait you like he was going to shoot, and sucker the defense in, then deliver the pass to someone else on the money."
By the time training camp started, Bird's initiation was almost complete. There was one veteran left who wanted a piece of him, and that was Cedric Maxwell, a slender forward who was as proud of his trash-talking as he was of his low-post moves. He played 2-on-2 after practice with Bird, Carr, and Rick Robey and led Bird onto the block, where he spanked him with a series of upfakes and step- backs.
"He didn't really know how to play defense yet," Maxwell said.
When it was Bird's turn on offense, Maxwell stood with his hands at his side, daring the rookie to beat him. Bird started drilling shots. He hit them from 15 feet, then moved back to 20 feet, and then, finally, to 25 feet. By then, Maxwell was frantically trying to halt the comeuppance by blanketing him with his spindly arms. It was too late. Larry Bird was torching him.
"Damn," Maxwell said to Carr. "That white boy can shoot."
Once the Celtics veterans were done challenging Bird, they went about the business of protecting him. There was resentment among some black players who couldn't understand why there was so much hype surrounding a white rookie who, as far as they could tell, couldn't run or jump. Carr recalled forward Maurice Lucas telling him before a game in Bird's first season, "I'm going to take down the great Larry Bird."
"Oh, yeah?" Carr said. "Well, you're going to have to go through me first."
Magic underwent a similar rite of passage in Lakers training camp. Coach Jack McKinney put him on the second team and left him there for days. He stressed to Johnson that his decision-making would be the most important component