When the Game Was Ours - Larry Bird [58]
"We hated Magic Johnson," confirmed Celtics forward Cedric Maxwell. "All that Showtime, the Hollywood glitz, the phony smile. He was all style, and we were all substance."
That summation of the Lakers was precisely what had rankled coach Pat Riley to the point of fury. Riley had worn Lakers purple and gold for nearly six NBA seasons, establishing himself as a hard-nosed, intelligent player. When he became head coach of the Lakers, he established a demanding, unrelenting practice regimen that required both physical and mental stamina.
"For anyone to suggest we were soft, that we were 'Showtime,' I'd like to see them get through one of our practices," Riley sniffed.
Yet even he understood that until the Lakers reversed their fortunes against Boston, the perception, however erroneous, would stand. Riley, Magic, and Kareem were all trying to buck a historical trend that had come to define both franchises.
From 1956 to 1969, the Celtics won eleven championships in thirteen seasons. They met the LA Lakers in the Finals six times and won all six. The misery was etched into the faces of Lakers general manager Jerry West and Riley, both of whom were a part of the franchise's futile attempt to exorcise the demons of Celtics patriarch Red Auerbach's arrogant victory cigar.
For fourteen seasons, West excelled with such precision that the NBA logo was modeled after his likeness. He scored 25,192 career points, dished out 6,238 assists, and was nicknamed "Mr. Clutch," but he won only one championship—in 1972—at the tail end of his distinguished career. He retired having never beaten the Celtics in the NBA Finals.
There were many occasions when he came excruciatingly close. West and Elgin Baylor, the skilled forward who averaged 38.3 points and nearly 19 rebounds a game, anchored a 1961–62 Lakers team that had it all: shooting, defense, and versatility. But midway through the season Baylor was called into the army reserves in Fort Lewis, Washington, and was relegated to playing only on weekends or with an occasional day pass. In preparation for the Finals against Boston, the Lakers set up shop in a local gym adjacent to Baylor's army base so he would be able to practice with the team.
The series came down to a winner-take-all Game 7 at Boston Garden, and a tie score with the clock down to 0:05—five seconds. Franklin Delano Selvy, named after President Roosevelt, was charged with getting the ball inbounds to his Lakers teammates. Celtics guard Bob Cousy's assignment was to distract him as much as possible.
"Arnold [Red Auerbach] told me to jump up, scratch, wave my hands, shout, whatever I had to do," Cousy said.
Cousy leaped into the air, flailing his arms. Selvy waited until Cousy reached the top of his jump, then dumped the ball in to "Hot Rod" Hundley and quickly sprinted to the left corner, his favorite spot on the floor. By the time Cousy landed, then raced after Selvy, he realized he was a step behind.
"Oh, God, I blew it," Cousy thought to himself. "I'm going to be the guy that cost us the championship."
Hundley was supposed to deliver the ball to either West or Baylor, but both were smothered by Celtics defenders. He was startled to see Selvy alone on the baseline. West, struggling to free himself from a double team, was also encouraged to see one of his team's best shooters with the ball in his hands and a chance to win it.
"It was about as good a look as you could hope for," West said.
Selvy, a two-time All-Star, launched his 12-foot shot just before Cousy arrived to challenge it. (Selvy later claimed Boston's guard pushed him, but there was no call from the referee.) The jumper bounced high off the back rim—then out. West held his breath as the shot hit iron—then exhaled in disappointment as Celtics center Bill Russell gathered in the rebound. The buzzer sounded, the game went into overtime, and Boston prevailed.
As the Celtics players jubilantly hoisted Auerbach onto their shoulders, the Boston fans streamed out of the stands and swarmed