Back Come the 76ers : They Await the Celtics, Not Guillotine

The Owner was going broke.

The Coach was going to quit, if the Owner didn’t fire him first.

The Star Forward, a much admired Doctor in the community, had almost been traded to another community.

The Star Center had been proclaimed unworthy of his salary by the man who should have known, the Daddy Warbucks paying it, the Owner.

The Coach benched one of his Star Guards plus the Prize Rookie, all 260 pounds of it.

Many Players muttered darkly about the Coach, except for those who had stopped talking to the Press.

This whole mess was then delivered onto the doorstep of the Young Bucks, who were supposed to make short work of it, thus beginning an off-season shake-up that was going to make the French Revolution look like a bunt.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the guillotine. . . .

Welcome back to 76ers Harold Katz, Billy Cunningham, Julius Erving, Moses Malone, Andrew Toney and Charles Barkley, relaxing now after sweeping the Milwaukee Bucks in the National Basketball Assn. Eastern Conference semifinals, waiting for their arch-nemeses, the Celtics, to get clear.

This is regarded as a big surprise, though it shouldn’t have been. Something incredible happens every year at this time, the chronicling of 76er foibles having long ranked among the fondest rites of spring.

They are either winning a championship (1967, 1983), or gagging on a 3-1 lead over the Celtics (1968, 1981), or losing in the final game to the Lakers, who have a guard playing center (1980), or losing a 3-1 lead and then winning the seventh game in Boston Garden (1982).

They do interesting things, such as Wilt Chamberlain’s neglecting to shoot in the second half of a seventh-game loss to the Celtics (1968), or George McGinnis’ teammates helping him forget his slump by yelling “Brick!” at his shots in practice (1977).

They are often depicted as being in the throes of mutiny, and that was the case this season, too, when Coach Billy Cunningham decided to rest some injured starters down the stretch.

When Bill Russell’s Celtics coasted in fourth in 1969 before winning a going-away title for him, they were regarded as sly old foxes. When Cunningham’s 76ers fell to the third-best record in the East, there was hell to pay all around. There is a lesson to be learned from this. It’s different, being a 76er.

Cunningham’s choirboy visage shrank to more of a skull-and-bones effect. His mood kept pace.

His players grumbled that he was too tough on the sidelines, that he screamed too much and pulled them on mistakes. They didn’t like the fans and the press being down on them, either.

Less apparent but more significant, they may have had some things to work out with each other, too.

“We have a lot of honest guys,” said Julius Erving, laughing. “Charles is very honest. Moses is very honest. Andrew is very honest.

“They want to score some points and forget about all this strategy stuff. About the only slick guys we have are me, Bobby (Jones) and Maurice (Cheeks). With Bobby and myself, it’s diplomacy.”

And everyone waited to see what owner Katz would do to Cunningham after the expected second-round loss to Milwaukee just a year after the first-round loss to New Jersey.

“Even if L.A. and Boston lose, they’re still the teams people talk about. When we lose, it’s ‘What’s wrong with the Sixers?’ I don’t know, maybe it’s just because we’re so visible. We have a tradition like L.A. and Boston. We’ve been a very successful club the last five-six years. I can’t figure it out.” --76er guard Clint Richardson

“It’s either feast or famine. Especially in Philadelphia.” --Billy Cunningham

Problems are not unique to the 76ers. The finances of Laker owner Jerry Buss are under scrutiny. The drafting of Magic Johnson was hard on the Laker incumbent point guard, Norm Nixon. They became good friends, with periodic breaches of the peace. Laker veterans still warm up slowly to rookies. The same group dynamics apply to all teams, offices and other groupings of humans.

The 76ers, though, seem to do everything with more fanfare. In Boston, the Celtics tended to be covered like a church. Did Kevin McHale want more money? What kind of a mercenary’s soul must a man have to contemplate abandoning The Mystique? In Philadelphia, the 76ers were treated more on the order of a dart board.

Onto these already stormy seas in the summer of 1981 sailed Harold Katz, for better and worse.

Katz gave new dimension to the term nouveau riche. A chubby, shy kid, he had dropped out of high school to run the family grocery when his father died, then made a fortune in the diet business with a company called Nutri/Systems. At 44, his holdings were valued at $300 million and he talked of becoming the first self-made billionaire outside the oil industry.

He was brash (or to those less enamored of him, obnoxious), visionary (lucky), and aggressive (aggressive). He tried to hire Elizabeth Taylor to front for Nutri/Systems. He tried to lure Wilt Chamberlain back from retirement for the 76ers.

A lunchtime basketball player at best, Katz even presumed to take over the instruction of the local darling, Darryl Dawkins, personally. After one game in ‘81, he dug in among the writers in front of Dawkins’ locker to illustrate proper positioning for rebounding. He then gave Darryl a clinic. This was where the ball was going to come off, this was how one went for it. . . .

When Dawkins’ rebounding still didn’t improve, Katz parcelled him off to the Nets and spent $12 million signing Moses Malone.

The 76ers had all sorts of darlings in increasing peril, among them Cunningham.

Cunningham, boyish looking, well spoken, highly popular as a player, a successful and improving coach, still retained his following. He was all kinds of intense, not to mention rich enough not to have to work, and coaching took a terrific toll on him.

After each season, Cunningham would go down to Florida, lie around and decide whether to come back. The bottom line was that he needed the action. Cunningham was one of those players who used to bet on whose suitcase would come down to the luggage carrousel first.

Cunningham’s first owner, Fritz Dixon, had doted on him and waited breathlessly for his returns from Florida with the decision. Katz let everyone know that this was a new day. If Billy left, he’d find someone else. If the team had a bad enough season, Billy could get fired, just like Cotton Fitzsimmons or Kevin Loughery.

Cunningham’s travel agency used to handle the team’s trips, but Katz took that away. Cunningham favored a businesslike approach to the game, but Katz had other priorities. Last fall, Katz ordered the traveling party headquartered in Las Vegas for a week during a West Coast exhibition swing, and joined them there.

Harold had ideas about everything. Guess who got to hear about all of them?

“I talk with him all the time,” Cunningham said. “I think every coach in the league would like to have the situation I have with Harold. He’ll make suggestions, sure. The man owns the team. But he’ll never tell me to do anything. He knows I wouldn’t be able to work for anybody that way.”

Together they prospered. In Katz’s second season, they went 12-1 in the playoffs, won an NBA championship and earned consideration as one of the great teams in history.

Then came last year. Malone’s numbers dropped slightly. Katz showed up one night after a loss in Phoenix and announced that Moses, the king of the blue-collar workers, wasn’t earning his $2 million a year.

The 76ers were stunned by the Nets in the first round of the playoffs, losing Game 5 in the Spectrum. After the season, Katz entertained a bid by the Clippers for Erving, the centerpiece of his franchise. Erving nixed it, but he did notice that Katz hadn’t said no automatically.

The reaction in the community was a firestorm. Katz ordered that no more press releases be sent to Howard Eskin, a TV sports anchorman who had knocked the move. When the 76ers had press conferences, Eskin was not to be notified.

Katz also had bigger fish in need of frying. Nutri/Systems was over-extended and its stock was beginning a long plummet, from $48 to $3. Philadelphia Magazine recently estimated that Katz is down to his last $20 million.

That was the situation, roughly, as the 1984-85 season began. Aside from that, everything was ducky.

“We had chiefs. We needed some Indians. We got Charles. We got Running Bull. Not Sitting Bull, Running Bull.” --Julius Erving

If there ever was a man you’d call an impact player, in more ways that one, it would be Charles Barkley, 6 feet 6 inches and 282 pounds as recently as the Olympic tryouts.

The 76ers took him with the No. 5 pick in the ’84 draft. General Manager Pat Williams had gotten it from the Clippers seven years before, all he could manage for World nee Lloyd Free, whom Cunningham wanted out of here, post-haste.

People who perhaps hadn’t seen 275 pounds jump that high, or go behind its back on the dribble at midcourt, sneered.

“Who’s he going to guard?” asked Celtic announcer Bob Cousy, watching Barkley line up against Ralph Sampson in an exhibition game.

No one could guard him, either. By mid-season, Barkley was starting, even if his periodic naps drove Cunningham to distraction. He averaged 14 points a game and shot 54.5%. On a per-minute basis, he ranked among the NBA’s top five rebounders.

There were rumors that Katz had ordered Cunningham to start Barkley. Chick Hearn broadcast that one night. Cunningham denies it, but it was a natural conclusion. Barkley was a huge favorite of Katz, so to speak.

Anyway, Cunningham hit upon the idea of making Barkley an ex-starter for the playoffs, all by himself. That got Barkley’s attention. When he came into playoff games, the games turned. He is now averaging 15.5 points playing about 30 minutes a game, shooting 59.7% and leading the team in rebounds.

He out-rebounded Malone in the first five playoff games, before Malone got him in the sixth. When Barkley saw that, he mock-sobbed into the box score.

“It’s over, y’all,” he said.

That was after Game 3 of the series with the Bucks. Barkley was even trying out a little diplomacy, saying he’d didn’t mind coming off the bench behind Bobby Jones.

“We’ve played two teams with offensive-minded forwards, (Terry) Cummings and (Cliff) Robinson,” Barkley said. “I’d rather Bobby start while I sit back and learn.”

And what had he learned?

“That I shoulda been out there,” Barkley said, grinning. “I like to hear my name called.”

By the coach, putting him into the game?

“No,” he said. “You know, like ‘At the other forward, from Auburn. . . . ‘ “

That night, the 76ers had blown an 18-point lead. They trailed, 102-99, in the final 1:39 when Malone missed a follow shot. The Bucks’ Alton Lister had the rebound, until Barkley knocked him down, tore the ball away, wheeled around Lister’s fallen body, made a reverse layup, was fouled and tied the game.

Moments later, Barkley tipped the ball away from Cummings, who was trying to back him in, springing Erving on a fast break for the basket that put the 76ers ahead.

And shortly after that, Barkley got the ball on another fast break, ignored Erving calling for the ball, took it in himself, tripped, crashed into the basket support, was called for traveling and bruised his left thigh. For Game 4, he came out with it wrapped, requiring enough tape to have accommodated Tutankhamen.

How had Cunningham liked that one? Barkley was asked later.

“I’m sure he’s had crazy players before,” said Barkley.

Barkley and his coach are still trying each other on for size. Barkley calls Cunningham a young Bob Knight. Just the same, Barkley signed Cunningham’s name to a hotel check for $4 worth of ice cream in Washington.

“He took me out of a game one night,” Barkley said. “He played me about five minutes, for various reasons. . . . Well, I say what’s on my mind at the time. Sometimes, that gets me in trouble. . . .

“I’m the last (rookie) left. People don’t know I had a good year. All I hear is Michael (Jordan) and Akeem (Olajuwon). But if we win the championship, I’ll have the last laugh. This is my time.

“I’ll tell you this, if I played on a team that gave me the ball as much as they got it, they wouldn’t have had a better year than I had. I know for a fact, if I got the ball as much as Akeem, I’d average 20 points and 12 rebounds.”

The other 76er rookie is Leon Wood of Cal State Fullerton, the other No. 1 draft choice. Wood hasn’t played much, but he’s no blushing violet, himself.

“Leon can be a chief down the line sometime,” said Erving, smiling.

For years, the first thing any 76er opponent did in the playoffs was double-team Erving. Now 35, he isn’t as much the focal point of the offense. He remains the degree-of-difficulty champion of the world, though, still averaging 20 a night and knocking fans’ eyeballs out.

In recent seasons, he has become increasingly important off the court, as a liaison between his teammates and his coach. For years there were rumors that Cunningham and Erving, good friends from their ABA days, were on the outs. There is a theory, though, that the Clipper proposal brought them closer. Cunningham is said to have hotly opposed it.

“Billy and I have a very normal business relationship,” Erving said. “We respect each other. I think we like each other, away from basketball. Our personal relationship is pretty good. And it’ll probably be better when he’s not my boss.

“Our players are hand-picked, so they can be coached by a coach like Billy. He’s a very intense coach, very demanding, not good at handling temperamental people. Communication will be direct, rather than sit down and have a strategic discussion in heavy detail. So he’s a physical guy.

“This year we have Charles, Bobby and myself, the three primary forwards. At the end of the game, only two of the guys are going to play. Two will be in, one will be out. The one who’s out can sit and moan or he can cheer. Some games, I’d be out at the end and somebody would immediately come up to me and ask if I wasn’t teed off. I’d say, ‘No, I enjoyed watching the team win.’

“I told Billy I understand the situation. I want to be strong at the end of the year. I can score 25 points a game, because I can score in this league but there are nights when it would be better for me to do other things to help us win.

“People are always comparing players. They’ve got stats, but stats tell lies. What do stats tell you about Bobby Jones? It’s great to have stats but I’d rather have the wins.”

It’s a lovely spring day on the Penn campus. A small group of reporters sits outside the Palestra, waiting for the 76ers to end practice. Cunningham has sealed off the whole building. For the conference finals, he is thinking of taking the team back to its training headquarters out in the Amish country.

This is serious. In Cunningham’s eight seasons, the Celtics have had five coaches and the Lakers four. One of the former Celtic coaches, Bill Fitch, said that one reason he left was the 76er rivalry. He didn’t enjoy warring all season for a one-game home-court advantage, just to see if whichever of them was left standing could run and up down the floor after the Lakers.

“It takes a toll, no question,” Cunningham said.

In Philadelphia, there is concern about how Cunningham looks. “The advance man for a famine,” said Williams, the general manager. “If his eyes are sunken and his cheeks are hollow and his skin is pasty, you know it’s the playoffs.”

Recently CBS’s Dick Stockton, a friend from Cunningham’s brief days as an announcer, said that Billy was once again considering early retirement.

“Some guy asked me that in Washington,” Cunningham said, smiling. “I said, ‘Well, if you’re going into the playoffs, you’re guaranteed of hearing two questions: Is Harold Katz selling the team and is Billy Cunningham quitting coaching? Or is he getting fired?’

“All I can say is, it’s eight years and I’m still here. I’ll still evaluate everything as soon as the season is over.

“I’ve always said with the three top teams, Philadelphia, Boston, L.A., when things aren’t just going along so smoothly, when the team is losing some games, when it has injuries, a lot more is made of it.”

With a month left in the season, the 76ers were 51-16, but two games behind the Celtics and starting to get banged up. The decision was made not to ask Erving and Malone to play hurt.

The 76ers closed 8-7. Nobody had a good time.

Said Clint Richardson: “A lot of people second-guessed the decisions Billy made, about resting people, not resting people. We knew we couldn’t catch Boston. Why kill ourselves? At least we could try to stay ahead of Milwaukee.”

They didn’t do that, either. The Bucks beat them out, 59-23 to 58-24. That meant the series would start in Milwaukee.

Not only that, the 76ers finished their first-round playoff series in Landover, Md., on a Friday night and then learned that the next one would start Sunday afternoon in Milwaukee. They bused home from Landover, arrived about 2 a.m. Saturday, got a few hours’ sleep, flew to Milwaukee and went straight to practice.

Also, guard Maurice Cheeks, who’d hidden a right shoulder separation late in the season, had just taken another shot on it. He started Game 1 with the shoulder taped suspiciously.

The 76ers led by 27 that day and won by 22. Cheeks scored 10 points in the first period. The first player off the bench, Barkley, shot 6 for 9, scored 19 points and took eight rebounds in 21 minutes. The second player off the bench, Richardson, shot 11 for 12.

After that, the series was a blur. The 76ers were back. The Bucks were gone before they figured out what had hit them.

“We just took everything away they’d worked for all year,” Richardson said. “When we beat them in that first game, it was over with.”

This week, the 76ers are resting. Erving said he’d just as soon play the Celtics again. Malone said he’d just as soon play the Indiana Pacers. That made one vote in the world for a new rivalry.