Tough man had a tender side

October 29, 2006|Jackie MacMullan, Globe Columnist

The first time I met Red Auerbach, I was 22 years old, and I was terrified.

It was January 1983, and I had been working at the Globe as a full-time writer exactly two months. My assignment was the Boston College-St. John's basketball game, which seemed manageable enough until five minutes before tipoff, when this silver-haired gentleman in a blue blazer plopped himself down next to me and lit up a cigar.

Of course. What else would he do?

No one dared to instruct Arnold "Red" Auerbach to extinguish it. We were in Boston Garden -- the house Red built -- and he did whatever he wanted when he roamed that creaky old arena with the hallowed banners hanging from its rafters.

I wanted so desperately to impress him, but I couldn't think of a single intelligent thing to say. Instead, I diligently took notes while Boston College and its waterbug point guard, Michael Adams, wreaked havoc on the heavily favored St. John's team. Red didn't say much to me, other than offering to buy me an ice cream midway through the first half.

At the intermission, as the cheerleaders sprinted to center court to began their spirited, peppy routine, the greatest coach in basketball history gestured toward the parquet -- his parquet -- and asked, "So . . . what do you think?"

It was the moment I had been waiting for. I immediately explained how I thought BC's full-court press was particularly effective, and if St. John's didn't begin to respect the Eagles' perimeter shooter soon, maybe BC could pull off the upset.

"No, no," Auerbach interrupted. "I meant the girls. Aren't you the cheerleading coach?"

Well, no. I wasn't. Red would learn that soon enough. Over nearly 24 years, our paths would cross on a regular basis. I was a young reporter trying to capture the Celtics' mystique, and he was the man who invented it. In the beginning, he vociferously objected to everything about me, particularly when I entered his team's locker room.

"You don't belong in there," he'd bark.

"What if you were trying to decide whether to draft a player, and everyone got to talk to him but you?" I'd retort. "Would that be fair?"

"It would never happen!" he'd bellow. "I would already know more about the kid than everyone else anyway!"

This, of course, was true. Back when Auerbach's staff consisted of himself, and, well, himself, he relied on a Rolodex full of numbers for nearly every prominent college coach in the country to glean his scouting reports. He was always one step ahead of the competition. And, when he'd fleece his fellow NBA executives, he did so without a trace of humility.

"If you do something great, kid, then don't apologize to anyone," he told me. "If you're a winner, then act like one."

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