I am not going to lie. As we get older, we may not remember things as well as we used to. Forgot what you ate last night? (it was Hoisin Flounder) or last Saturday (beef with mushrooms, Love Boat--which has chicken & scallops plus scallion toast, hot & sour soup & my wife had chicken noodle soup) or what I ate 2 Saturdays ago (I think it was pasta--see what I mean?). So I am not immune from this happening to me. Frequently.
Yet there are seminal moments in one's life--especially in the younger years--which the memories are indelibly retained. Those experiences can be recalled in sharp detail, even in later years.
Such is my recall of April 16, 1967. 50 years ago today. While today is the start of the 2016-17 NBA Playoffs, 50 years ago I was at Game 2 of the 1966-67 NBA Championships.
The game was in Philadelphia, in the ancient Convention Hall just off of downtown. It pitted the Western Conference champs, the San Francisco Warriors (now the Golden State Warriors but once were the Philadelphia Warriors), against the Philadelphia '76ers (still playing in Philadelphia, although when the Warriors left for the West Coast, the Syracuse Nationals franchise was transplanted in Philadelphia). The Warriors, coached by Hall of Fame member Bill Sharman and led by future Hall of Famers Rick Barry, Nate Thurmond, plus the legendary Al Attles from Weequahic High School in Newark, along with an emerging guard, Jeff Mullins, faced the imposing Sixers in the best of 7 series.
The Sixers had completed the season with a then best seasonal record 68-13 mark. Voted the greatest team in NBA history when the league celebrated its 35th anniversary, this group began the season with an amazing 46-4 start. Their names resonated with this young fan who watched many of the contests on ABC--Wilt "The Stilt" Chamberlain, the powerful 7-1 local prodigy from Overlook High School and the University of Kansas; rookie Billy "The Kangaroo Kid" Cunningham, who arrived from the University of North Carolina and could literally leap out of the building; steady guard Hal Greer, who shot his free throws in an unorthodox jump shot manner; Chet "The Jet" Walker from Bradley University, a forward who was shooter first, paired with Lucious Jackson out of Pan American who was dominant power forward due to his girth; and local college player, Wali Jones, at Villanova University and a crowd favorite due to his strange but effective jump shot. Even the reserves and rookies were familiar names to me--the rookies were Matt Guokas and Billy Melchionni from Big Five schools Villanova and St. Joseph's; balding Bobby Weiss, a guard who had played at Penn State; and veterans Dave Gambee and Larry Costello rounded out the team. Chamberlain, Cunningham, Greer and Walker are enshrined in the Hall of Fame. Costello won the NBA title as a head coach with the Milwaukee Bucks. Guokas was the first head coach of the Orlando Magic and coached the Sixers, transitioning into a career as a well-respected television analyst for many years. Weiss, too, was first an assistant coach and then a head coach for a number of teams, and he is now, at age 74, a valued assistant coach for the Charlotte Hornets. Melchionni was a 3-time American Basketball Association winner with the New York Nets and his number 25 jersey is retired, hanging in the rafters of the Barclay Center, the home of the Brooklyn Nets; he was lucky enough to play with two basketball immortals--Chamberlain and "Dr. J", Julius Erving (who ironically won a title with the Sixers). Even Dave Gambee had a 12 year NBA career. This was an illustrious team.
To get to the Finals, the Sixers had to dethrone their nemesis and 8 time defending NBA champions, the Boston Celtics. Epic battles were commonplace when these two squads met, beginning at the center position where Chamberlain and fellow Hall of Famer Bill Russell clashed. Boston was coached by Russell, who succeeded the no nonsense Red Auerbach. Auerbach delighted in lighting up a cigar after a victory. The number of Celtics' Hall of Fame players actually outnumbered the Sixers' foursome of Chamberlain, Greer, Walker and Cunningham. Russell, John Havlicek, Wayne Embry, Don Nelson, Tom "Satch" Sanders, K.C. Jones, Sam Jones (no relation) and Bailey Howell all are in the Hall of Fame in some capacity. Sixers fans dleighted in finally beating the Celtics, chanting "Boston is dead."
The Finals seemed to be almost anti-climactic. Philadelphia was expected to beat the Warriors--which they did in six games. But that did not matter to this 16 year old basketball fan.
Some perspective here. I am 5'5" tall. Not exactly great size to play basketball. I could not jump very high. My shooting was erratic at best. Baseball was my best sport. But I loved basketball--to play or to watch it.
I was the Head Manager for the Highland Park High School Owls boys team. I kept the scorebook and I tended to whatever the team needed. I became very close to Head Coach Bob Kertes, who recently passed away, and his assistant, Bob Tirone, who taught my 10th grade American History class. Thankfully, during the scholastic season, being Head Manager rescued me out from the dread of gym class. Within the athletic department, because I also did football statistics for Head Coach/Athletic Director Jay Dakelman, a wonderful man I knew from his summer camp at HPHS and a highly successful coach on the gridiron and with the track team, I actually had some status.
Coach Kertes liked to reward people for their dedication to the program, akin to Coach Dakelman. In the course of my tenure as scorekeeper, at the 4 person scorer's table, I sat next to Ward Smith, my 10th grad chemistry teacher. Mr. Smith, a bachelor, was a very, very nice man, but he had a nervousness in him that was evident in class and when he ran the scoreboard and clock. Many times during a game I would help Mr. Smith with operating the clock or putting up the correct score on the scoreboard.
Highland Park's basketball season in 1967 had concluded in March during the NJSIAA playoffs. Earlier that season, we traveled to to the New Jersey Youth Correctional Facility in Annandale, New Jersey to play an exhibition game versus those young adults, mostly juveniles, housed there for acts of delinquency. I was permitted to play in that game, actually scoring 5 points in 2 periods. It wa a blast being part of the team for that contest. Until Coach Kertes played a mean prank on me.
Since I was still a manager, he ordered me to carry the ball bag and some other equipment form our makeshift locker room to the guardhouse and then up the stairway to the team bus. Which I did.
When the team entered the facility, the guards counted the number of people coming in--17. Correspondingly, they count the numbers leaving. When they reached 17, no more were permitted to leave the guard house. Coach Kertes had pre-arranged for the guards to count to 17 but not include me, at the rear of the line, as the last HPHS person leaving.
There I was, stuck in the guard house, watching the team ascend the stairs, while being restrained from moving on. I started to plead my case, but the guards showed no sympathy or cared to really listen. I was told to shut up and sit down, that I could be prosecuted for escape. As you can imagine, I became increasingly unnerved and anxious. I had no idea what to do and I worriedly contemplated the actual possibility that I might be imprisoned there without a link to the outside world.
For what seemed like an eternity, I sat, with the menacing guards closely monitoring me. Then, through the door came Coach Kertes. His first comment, ignoring me, was that he had left the ball bag and needed to retrieve it. The guards pointed to it next to me and said "There it is." One of the guards then told Coach Kertes that the ball bag came with other equipment, and he inquired if Coach Kertes wanted all of that equipment. He said yes, and he said "I'll take that one, too", referring to me. I bolted out the entrance to see the entire team at the top of the stairway, laughing hysterically.
It is ironic that in my professional career with the New Jersey Public Defender's office, I represented juveniles, and my travels to meet clients took me back to Annandale. I entered and left without commotion, but I still was relieved to leave each time I visited.
Although Coach Kertes never mentioned this episode again, he asked me on Thursday, April 14, if I would like to join Mr. Smith, Coach Kertes and another player for a ride to Philadelphia to see the Warriors and Sixers play. My parents said yes and I could not wait to go.
While I had seen my first NBA game in 1960 when Wilt Chamberlain, then with the San Francisco Warriors, came to the old Madison Square Garden, located on 8th Avenue and 49th Street in Manhattan, where the Warriors soundly thrashed the woeful New York Knicks, a trip to the NBA Finals was incredible. I remember the ride down to Philadelphia in Mr. Smith's white Dodge, talking basketball and chemistry.
This was a nationally televised, early afternoon game. The Sixers had won Game 1 and most pundits felt that Philadelphia could eliminate the Warriors in 4 or 5 games.
I recollect entering the Philadelphia Convention Hall, located adjacent to the University of Pennsylvania and nearby Franklin Field, home to Penn and Philadelphia Eagles football and the Penn Relays track festival. Convention Hall looked bigger than on my black and white television screen. It seated about 11-12,000 for basketball, and had a huge stage at one end, which was used for concerts like The Beatles appearance in Philadelphia.
Unlike the Garden and probably due somewhat to the fact that the NBA Finals were in Philadelphia after the Sixers bested the mighty Celtics, the bloodthirsty Philadelphia fans, well-known for their rabidness, were in full voice even during the pregame warmups. I remember that I had 2 hot dogs and a soda for lunch. Mr. Smith provided popcorn for the game. I also learned new words that day--angry, biting, negative ones.
Public address announcer Dave Zinkoff, was in rare form. His enunciation for CHAMBer-lin, CUNNING-ham and the quick Greer sound was lyrical, even with his shrill whiny voice. When a Warriors player scored, his mention of the name was droll and somber. It was THREE FOR two when the foul limit was exceeded; . Wali Jones name was loudly musical yet almost sarcastic. Zinkoff was a real treat that day and every other time I saw the Sixers at the Spectrum, the new home they entered in autumn of 1967.
What I can say about the game from our seats behind the basket was that Wilt was huge and dominant; Luke Jackson was hurt so that Billy Cunningham took over his spot in the lineup; and that Greer (30 pts), Cunningham (28), Walker (18) and Jones (16) had good games. Only Rick Barry could score for the Warriors (30). One of the highlights was watching two players shoot their free throws underhanded---Chamberlain and Barry. Wilt was a notoriously horrible foul shooter, while Barry was the top player in free throw percentage in the NBA. Barry actually missed a couple (10-12), while Wilt missed a whole lot more (2-17).
I know that the game was a blowout. Subsequent research showed that the score was 126-95. Coach Sharman tried every which way to get the Warriors' offense going, to no avail. While the win put the them up 2-0, the series would end in six games, with the Sixers taking home the title.
The car ride back to Middlesex County was euphoric. But after awhile, as the Dodge neared home, we tired of talking basketball and we were spent form the magnitude and the length of the day.
Later in life, I have had the great fortune to see a World Series game, the Stanley Cup Finals, NHL and MLB All Star games among the myriad of other contests in the four major league sports. As good and unique as each one was, there was truly something special about the unexpected thrill to see the NBA Finals and to experience my first championship game. Once more, I say thanks to two great mentors and teachers, Bob Kertes and Ward Smith, for their generosity to this 16 year old kid who was wide-eyed and ecstatic being in Philadelphia on this day 50 years ago.
While others may have similar stories related to long-ago sporting events, at least on this special date, I get to relive one of my life's unforgettable,great stories. I hope that you, as readers, get to experience something similar, 50 years after it actually happened.
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