So, as a coach, you need to find someone like this, who, if your opponent tries to make a layup, will occasionally knock them down.
Players don’t like being knocked down. Knocking a few of them to the floor can have a big psychological impact.
I used to be the one who got knocked down often, that’s why I had so many surgeries.
Among all the people who knocked me down, the one I hated most was Bill Lambier. He was a despicable guy.
He loved making moves after the whistle blew. Like, he’d commit a pushing foul, the referee would whistle, and he’d still come at you with a knee from behind. When you turn around, you’d see his innocent look and open hands.
So when Ah Gan beat him up, I was overjoyed.
We all openly despised Lambier.
I remember once, I just got on the team bus, and the reporters were discussing the newly announced All-Star roster.
I asked one of them, "Did Lambier make it?"
He said, "No, he didn’t make it this year."
I said, "Great, now I don’t have to worry about him boarding and saying ’Good morning, Larry,’ and then I have to say ’Fuck you, Bill.’"
In the 97-98 season, Riddle was the barbarian at the Trail Blazers’ gate. He took on the work of defending the lane, always rushing out first to resolve on-court disputes.
Or, when necessary, knocking opponents over so they wouldn’t have an easy layup. Some of his offensive performances were exhilarating. I loved his two-handed dunks.
Of course, I appreciated the talent of Kobe Bryant on the bench even more. He was truly versatile and had potential, though his temper was bad and his character immature.
In my mind, he was the ideal choice for a shooting guard, a genius who could reach Jordan’s heights.
I gave him a lot of time to hone his skills. From just over 20 minutes at the start of the season to counting as a half-starter by the end.
Sometimes, I preferred putting him at the two or three positions, over Riddle and Mu Lin.
This kid has a big heart. If only he could control his need to put on a show.
But then he wouldn’t be Kobe Bryant, and he wouldn’t be loved by so many fans.
Our bench was very talented and potential-filled, unlike other teams.
Little O’Neal, Ben Wallace, they would all become star players in the future.
This is the secret to the Trail Blazers’ enduring success: they always rise from decay.
Provided there’s enough sunlight.
In the locker room, I often discussed players’ careers with them, and why we played the game.
I don’t like giving players motivational speeches or lectures. That kind of trick deceives only temporarily and will eventually be exposed.
But sometimes, when we win a lot and keep winning, some get a bit carried away. I would remind everyone: "Look around you. You have beautiful wives or girlfriends, luxury cars, live in mansions, and travel nationwide on luxury planes. Think about this, because a few years or decades later, you will retire, and you won’t live like this anymore. Cherish it all, cherish every game and victory."
The veterans would nod, Kobe would say, "I don’t have a girlfriend," and Ah Gan would say, "Twenty years!"
In fact, players always think they will play forever, like children and teenagers feel their carefree days are endless.
But I clearly know what I have, because I have lost it, and have walked half of life’s journey.
Today’s professional athletes forget how lucky they are. I know they’ve forgotten. They’re used to staying in luxury hotels, flying in business jets or private jets.
Most of my career, I traveled by commercial airline, enduring what veterans like Ah Gan and Porter experienced in the 80s.
We had to get up early, rush to the airport, and sit in economy class with everyone else. Those seats were too small, giving me back pain.
Back then, we stayed at chain hotels like the Holiday Inn on away games. Now? The Trail Blazers always stayed at the most luxurious hotels, some of which were owned by our team owner, Old Tang.
There was a time, right after the All-Star game, when I felt the players were somewhat weak in the second half of the season, with their focus scattered. A 41-game winning streak made everyone feel the regular season was almost over.
At that time, I really wanted to make everyone fly commercial. This would prevent players from showing up two minutes before takeoff, and sitting in economy would make them feel like it’s just a business trip for work, which would help the team.
Unfortunately, our owner provided a private jet, flying commercial carries many risks, so this wish couldn’t be fulfilled.
This resulted in the 97-98 regular season ending with a record of 77 wins and 5 losses. We lost five games in the latter half of the season.
That record can’t be described as anything but perfect, but I still felt there was room for improvement. Maybe I’m too harsh.
So in the last week of the games, I hoped everyone would bring their kids to the locker room more often, making the atmosphere more relaxed and loving.
When I was a player, the Celtics’ locker room often had players’ kids running around, including my son.
I loved watching them romp around the locker room. It was one of the best moments in their lives and a part of their growth.
Ah Gan’s son was always the craziest, the king of the kids, leading everyone on wild runs, creating chaos in the locker room. But everyone was happy.
After last season’s playoffs, after losing to the Utah Jazz, I suggested a farewell dinner.
I couldn’t believe the Trail Blazers had never had a farewell dinner, maybe they won too many championships, or the accident in 1993 made the concept too painful.
Anyway, I insisted on a farewell dinner every season’s end, because it might be the last time you see someone in your life, and you may never see them again.
As the season ends, some will retire, others will be traded, or sign elsewhere.
I know it’s hard for players to accept, especially dining after a loss. Back in Boston, I never wanted to go to those meals after losing a series.
But later, whenever I looked back, I felt it was an important farewell, and luckily I went because you never know what will happen at the end of the season.
Like in the summer of 1997, PJ Brown and Van Exel were traded, and Dudley went to New York.
The League passes by quickly, your career often ends before you notice.
Take Kevin McHale for example—I worked with him for 12 years, and suddenly, he disappeared from my life.
When you’re playing, there seem to be thousands of things more important than basketball.
But when your career ends, you’re idle, going from driving to practice, rushing to the airport, getting treatment, playing games... to having nothing to do.
At that point, you’d do anything just to have dinner with teammates.
At the end of the 97-98 regular season, I again proposed a farewell dinner after the playoffs.
But this time, we would celebrate in June, with the O’Brien Trophy accompanying us.
Nothing beats being part of a team. Especially when you’re winning.
———— Published in 1999, written by Larry Bird and Jackie MacMullan, excerpt from "Bird Watching."