The actual Hall of Fame induction was in an arena that held about 6,000 people. It was sold out. The crowd got a little rowdy, which surprised me. I didn’t mind the fans cheering and yelling about the Celtics and all that, but when the actual induction started and some of the spectators shouted things during the presentation of the other inductees, I thought that was pretty awful. I was inducted with a pretty impressive group: Lenny Wilkens, who coaches the Atlanta Hawks; the University of Texas’s Jody Conradt, who has won more college games than any other women’s coach in history; Arnie Risen, who starred for the Celtics in the fifties; Marques Haynes, an amazing ball handler who used to play for the Harlem Globetrotters; Alex Hannum, who was the first guy to win an NBA and ABA championship; and Aleksandar Nikolic, who is known as the father of Yugoslavian basketball. I knew all of their names, and I remembered Nikolic very well from following Olympic basketball, but the only one I had ever really talked to was Lenny Wilkens. Right away I could tell things were going to be a little onesided, and I felt bad about that. Here were all these people being honored, on one of the most important days of their lives, and there was all this commotion around me. The last thing I wanted to do was take away from their day, but they were all pretty good-natured about it. We had a press conference before the induction during the afternoon, and Lenny started off by saying, “I want to thank you all for inviting me to Larry’s party.” That kind of stuff is embarrassing, but what can I do?
The problem was, whenever any of the speakers made reference to Boston or the Celtics, the place would go crazy. I started getting really uncomfortable. My feeling was, “Let everyone have their say. Then, when I get up there, you can do whatever you want.” The fans gave me an incredible ovation. I really did appreciate it. But it went on and on and on, and here this thing was on television. Every time I tried to talk and say my speech, they cheered some more. Dinah and the kids were sitting in the front row, and I could tell Conner and Mariah were kind of overwhelmed by the whole thing. I’m sure they were wondering, “Why are all these people clapping for Daddy? ’Cause he’s coach of the Pacers?” I didn’t talk very long. I thanked my coaches and my teammates. I said I wished my mom could have been there, because I know she would have enjoyed it. Then I thanked Bill Fitch and Bill Walton, and that was that. We went backstage for some pictures, and Mildred Duggan, the coaches’ secretary from the Celtics, came back to say hello. It was great to see her. I always loved seeing all the old people from the office, and remembering how nice they treated me twenty years ago. I had seen Millie off and on, and she always made me smile. She was a really nice lady. She did my fan mail for about six or seven years. She was the one who went out and bought all the presents for the kids at Christmastime. Bill Fitch really liked her too, but K. C. Jones was her favorite. Whenever he came to town he’d take her to lunch. I was so glad Millie came to Springfield for the induction. I really enjoyed seeing her. A few weeks after the ceremony I got a call from someone in the Celtics office who told me Millie had died of a massive heart attack. I couldn’t believe it. I had just seen her, and she looked great. They told me how much she had enjoyed the induction, and I was glad she made it.
Looking back, the whole thirty-six hours or so I was in Springfield was a blur. I didn’t have a whole lot of time to sit down and think about what was happening. We had the press conference. I also had a number of private receptions I had to attend, one for General Mills, and another for the Basketball Hall of Fame Properties. Dinah, the kids, and I were walking from one function to the next, when the doors swung open, and about a hundred people were standing there, staring at us. Conner just stopped in his tracks. I knew how he felt. I could tell by his eyes he was thinking, “What are we getting into here?” He’s kind of shy. He snuggled up kind of close to me. I took his hand and said, “Just stay with me. You’ll be fine.”
While we were attending all these functions, they were unveiling a statue of me in Springfield. From what I understand, a large group of people gathered there because they thought I would be present for the unveiling. And when I wasn’t there, a lot of them went home angry and disappointed. That’s happened to me constantly in my career. I’ll see things in the paper where I’m going to be here or there, and I’ve known nothing about it. There’s one thing about me you can count on: if I say I’m going to show up at something, I’ll be there. Later I found out we were told about the statue, but since we had booked these meetings and receptions months in advance, we made it clear well in advance we wouldn’t be able to attend the unveiling. Besides, I’m not big on those kinds of things anyway. I don’t know why anyone wants a statue of me, and I certainly wouldn’t have been comfortable standing there getting my picture taken with it, or whatever.
The best part about the Hall of Fame induction was it put an end to my playing days. I can remember after I retired, somebody said to me, “Five years from now, you’ll go into the Hall of Fame.” It wasn’t something I had ever considered, but when I stopped to think about it I said to myself, “Wow, that’s a long time. I wish I could just move it up so I can get it over with.”
I just want to move on. Everywhere I go, people are still asking me about my playing days. In a lot of ways, it seems like it’s getting worse instead of better. I’m hoping my Hall of Fame induction will close the book on it once and for all.
I thought I would miss playing basketball when I retired, but I’ve never looked back.
I’ve got too many other things happening to live in the past. I know the only way people are going to forget Larry Bird the player is if Larry Bird the coach can win a championship.
I’m betting my guys are going to get me there.
On the 1999 Playoffs Debacle
T
here was no doubt in my mind 1999 was going to be our year. I really felt we were going to win the championship.
What happened instead is one of the toughest things I’ve ever had to deal with in basketball.
We got back to the Eastern Conference Finals, just like we said we would, but we lost to the New York Knicks in six games. I still can’t believe it. That series was our worst nightmare, all come true. Nothing went right for us. We couldn’t drive and penetrate and kick out to our shooters, which is so important for us to be successful. We couldn’t score down low, because Rik Smits was having so much trouble. And, on top of all that, Reggie Miller couldn’t hit any shots. I never thought that was something we’d ever have to worry about.
I was really down when we got eliminated. I still am. It is just a very, very tough thing to take, because we should have beaten the Knicks. I know that, and my players know that, and we have to live with it. Believe me, it isn’t easy.
Looking back, all the warning signs were there. Against the Knicks, we just never put together any sustained stretches where we were playing great basketball, night in and night out. Nobody stepped up with the big play the way they had last year. Something was missing, and we could never seem to find it.
At first, when the NBA announced we were going to play a shortened season, I was excited. Fifty games in eighty-five days sounded fantastic to me. I kept thinking back to when I was a player, and how much I would have loved that. But once we got into it, I realized it wasn’t as great as it sounded. The pace was so fast, so nonstop, that I said to myself, “Wow, this is going to be a strange year.”
During the lockout, our guys had stayed together in Indianapolis, working out together every day. Of course I was happy about that, but to be honest, I expected nothing less from them. I knew how much they wanted to win the championship. I also knew that even though they were going at it every day in the gym, it was going to take them a while to get into game shape. I figured we’d be there after around eight or nine games, and we’d be all right.
Well, when we got to that point, I could see they were in shape, but we weren’t playing any better, and that concerned me. We didn’t seem to have the killer instinct we had the previous season. The beauty of the year before was that whenever we needed a big play, or a big basket, it was someone different almost every night who stepped forward and delivered. That didn’t happen in the 1999 season.
Reggie Miller didn’t have a very good year. I kept thinking he was going to find his rhythm, but he never really did. He hit so many big, big shots for us the season before. This year, he had the same opportunities; he’d be looking at some wide-open game-winners, and he’d miss them.
Reggie wasn’t the only one who was off. Our whole team took a step back. The only guys who played as consistently as the year before were Dale Davis and Jalen Rose.
During the regular season, we lost six games by one point. Six games! That, more than anything, really bothered me. We’d get a lead, and instead of putting the hammer down and closing out teams, we’d relax. We just aren’t a powerful enough offensive team to do that.
If I could do anything over again, I probably wouldn’t have put so much pressure on them to win the championship. I think it got to them. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything to them about it. I should have told them they had to win the division, and go from there. I shouldn’t have kept saying, “This is our year to win it all.” But they’re smart guys. They’ve been around. They knew this was our best chance, especially with the shortened season.
We had some struggles during the regular season, that’s for sure. My honeymoon from year one was definitely over. For the first time, guys were complaining about their roles. Minutes became an issue. Guys like Mark Jackson wanted to be on the floor in the fourth quarter, but the way I had it set up, Mark played the first and third quarters and Travis Best played the second and final quarters, primarily because he’s the better defender of the two. I know it was hard for Mark and Chris Mullin and Dale, veterans who have been around a long time, to have to sit for stretches of the game. I never liked to sit as a player either. If you are any kind of competitor, you want to be in the game. But like I explained to Mark, I was doing what I thought was best for the team. Besides, like I told those guys, once we got into the playoffs, I wasn’t going to make them sit and watch from the sidelines.
I took a lot of heat from people for starting Chris Mullin in the playoffs. I don’t care. When you are a veteran, and you have paid your dues, you have a right to be out there. There was no way in the world I was going to take that away from him, or Mark, or anyone else. But Chris also knew that if he wasn’t hitting, I was going to go to the bench to bring someone in.
We got things in order in the final couple weeks of the regular season. Derrick McKey, who had missed most of the year because of a knee injury, was back in action and gave us a defensive stopper to put the clamps on the high-scoring shooting guards or small forwards. We won four in a row to close out the schedule, but I still wasn’t entirely happy because we weren’t going into the playoffs on a roll like we had done the previous year. I remember telling the press at the time, “I don’t know if this is sufficient enough.” I know that with any championship team I played on, we went into the postseason on a big high.
I was nervous about the playoffs. We played Milwaukee in the first round, and I was scared to death of them because they had the kind of team that shot very well from the outside, and they were always changing their defense, so I didn’t know what to expect. I never expected we’d sweep them, and I sure as hell didn’t expect us to sweep Philadelphia in the second round. They were young and energetic, and they had Allen Iverson, but our guys played so well, none of that mattered. We got to the Eastern Conference Finals without losing a game, and I was feeling really good about our team.
Our players were feeling it too. They were enjoying practice and playing together, and I liked our chances, even though I knew New York was on some kind of roll of their own and they were tough defensively and would want to take it to us with their athleticism. I always had faith that when you put New York’s starting five on the floor, and then ours out there next to them, we should come out ahead.
I knew coming into this job that this team had some liabilities. I knew we wouldn’t conquer the world every night, but I wouldn’t have imagined we could play as badly as we did against New York. It seemed like we could never get three guys to play well on a given night. They exploited our lack of athleticism. We didn’t take advantage of the obvious size advantage we had underneath. I can remember telling Rik Smits, after Patrick Ewing was declared out of the series because of a partially torn Achilles tendon, “They don’t have anyone who can guard you.” Why couldn’t we take advantage of that? I don’t have the answer.
When you look at it, you realize what a great opportunity we missed. First, New York lost Patrick, who was playing on one leg because of his Achilles. I’m friends with Patrick, and I wanted to see him out there. After he went out, there was all this talk about how New York was a better team without him because they could play up-tempo and all that, but there’s no way I’m going to buy that. That’s B.S.
We didn’t take advantage of Patrick being out. Then, when Larry Johnson sprained his knee in Game 5, we didn’t take advantage of that either.
There’s no question all the controversy surrounding the Knicks brought them together. There was all this talk of whether Jeff Van Gundy would keep his job or not, and I think all the controversy helped their team. It gave them something to rally around. I think Van Gundy is a good coach. I didn’t like it, though, when he went to the press and claimed we had put a bounty on Marcus Camby’s head. I thought that was garbage, and I felt it would backfire on them big time.
When you look at the series, the turning point was definitely Game 3. The series was tied 1–1 at that point, and we were going to New York with plans of winning both games. There’s no doubt we should have won Game 3. That’s obvious. But the big call at the end of the game killed us. Just killed us.