We Couldn't Beat Bill Russell

Time-out during playoff game in Boston Garden. Russell looking at camera, died July 31, age 88. Bettman via Getty Images

He stood out

like a rangy cat

among a field of leprechauns,

Long slender arms and legs, tilted

slightly forward, ready 

to block a shot,

grab a rebound or tip the basketball to

a teammate.

Although he appeared sleek there was an

awkwardness

perhaps due to his left-handedness, 

or so I thought.

I only saw him on TV. He must have 

been in his twenties. Number 6 for the

mighty Boston Celtics, perennial NBA champions.

His most distinguishing feature,

to me, was his goatee which tapered

slightly, black and wiry, like the Devil.

Recognized for his cackling laugh in later years,

he never laughed or smiled on the court.

Because of his color 

He received hate mail and taunting from Boston fans.

That was old Boston, which he later admitted, 

had changed.

Still, he played for his teammates, not the fans.

He threw up before each game:

"It was a way for my body to get rid

of all excesses," he claimed.

He didn't score a lot of points -- say like Steph

Curry, Magic Johnson, Larry Bryd, Kareem, 

Wilt or Michael Jordan -- career avg. 15.1 pts.

 per game.

He invented defensive basketball. His rebounding

and blocks shots

were off the charts. 51 boards in one game! 

A modern player grabs

more than 15 rebounds and it's news.

As tall, 6' 10", and as dominant as he was, he 

played like he was

invisible, 

allowing fancy players like his teammate

Bob Cousy, a magician with the ball,

to receive the ovations and wows!

He knew it was a team game and he played to 

win not to shine.

He led Boston to

11 NBA championships, including six over my 

beloved Lakers

during the 1960s.

His coach Red Aurbach called him "The single 

most devastating force

in the history of basketball. In 1980, the 

basketball writers voted him 

"the greatest player in NBA history."

And Bill Russell often agreed. His modesty was

his style

not his core belief.

He marched with Martin Luther King during the

Civil Rights Movement. 

In 2017, when President Donald

Trump announced that

NFL players who take a knee should be fired,

Russell posted a picture of himself on Twitter

taking a knee while

wearing the Medal of Freedom that President

Obama honored him with.

I admit that as a kid, I didn't get it. I had my eyes 

on the ball and the

shooters, while he was dominating the game

underneath.

In 1969, my last year in Southern California,

he broke my heart, again, when his underdog

Boston Celtics beat

my favored Los Angeles Lakers with Jerry West, 

Elgin Baylor and Will Chamberlain 

to win the NBA title, considered

one the greatest upsets in NBA history.

We watched the seventh game on closed circuit, 

large-screen TV at

the Hollywood Palladium. The closest you could

get if you didn't have a ticket. 

Following the game Russell found

Jerry West for a big hug.

West had scored 38 pts. in a valiant losing effort, was 

named MVP of the Finals, first time for 

a player on the losing team to win the award.

Their embrace spoke volumes: respect, honor,

inclusion, love, dignity, sportsmanship, humanity.

Still, during the 60s, we just couldn't win a title

over the Boston Celtics and 

Bill Russell.