Laker Leader : Sharman Guides Team With a Quiet Intensity

The president of the Lakers does not smoke cigars.

He does not stand out front, in the manner of Red Auerbach, the president of the Boston Celtics, and attract attention like some kind of lightning rod.

In fact, Bill Sharman draws very little notice at all, which is the way he wants it.

If you’re looking for Sharman, he can be found somewhere in the background, but not in the locker room, not in front of a camera and rarely in the newspaper.

These days, the president of the Lakers may be in his office writing stacks of memos, sitting in the stands at the Forum watching the Lakers play, or figuring out ways to beat the Celtics.

“He is one of the most intense men I’ve ever been around,” said Laker Coach Pat Riley.

Sharman’s intensity may be deceiving. His is the quiet kind. You notice it when he shakes your hand firmly and looks directly into your eyes. You don’t notice it so much when he speaks, because Sharman doesn’t talk very well anymore.

His vocal cords betrayed him years ago, when he over-used them coaching the Lakers, so Sharman has become a champion memo writer. And why not? He was a champion of many other things a long time ago.

Because of his speaking problem, when Sharman is interviewed, he prefers to write answers to lists of questions.

“Since my voice makes it difficult for people to hear or understand me, I really don’t mind being in the background, especially since I’ve been in the limelight for a long time,” Sharman wrote.

While the Celtics and the Lakers are going at it once again in the National Basketball Assn. championship series, Sharman is the one, direct link between the teams.

He is, at the same moment, one of the greatest Celtics of all time and the president and former coach of the team that has been their chief rival for more than a quarter of a century.

“When I was with Boston, we only played the Lakers once in the championship series,” Sharman wrote. “That was in 1959 when the Lakers were still in Minneapolis. We beat them in four straight games. I’ll never forget that series.

“I never thought or dreamed I would some day be on the other side, trying to figure out ways to beat the Celtics.”

For 10 seasons and four NBA titles, Sharman was a Celtic player. Then, in 1972, he coached the Lakers to a championship. The Lakers won 33 consecutive games on their way to a 69-13 record, the best in the history of the NBA.

Sharman and the Lakers began an association that has endured very much like Sharman himself.

Tom Heinsohn, a teammate of Sharman in Boston, wrote in his book, “Heinsohn, Don’t You Ever Smile?” about Sharman:

“Sharman was like a treacherous bulldog that would suddenly bite and refuse to let go. You spelled his name T-E-N-A-C-I-O-U-S. He was not a gifted player. He didn’t have speed. He couldn’t jump. He wasn’t as smooth or graceful as (Bob) Cousy. All he could do was play basketball. He intimidated his man.”

Sometimes, Sharman intimidated other things as well. Several years ago when he was on vacation in Mexico, Sharman came nose to nose with a shark in Acapulco Bay. Sharman gave the shark an elbow and got away.

This is all part of Sharman’s rather formidable reputation, most of which was earned above water. He was a state tennis champion as a high school player in Porterville, Calif.

In college at USC, Sharman was a two-time All-American basketball player and did not miss a free throw either year. Sharman was also a great college baseball player, so he left USC to sign a bonus contract with the Brooklyn Dodgers.

Sharman never played in a major league game, but he was on the Dodger bench in 1951 when Bobby Thomson hit the home run that sent the Giants into the World Series.

Soon, though, Sharman became part of the Celtic legend. Sharman was playing basketball as well as baseball when Auerbach rescued him from the defunct Washington Caps.

The Celtic dynasty started immediately afterward. Boston never had a losing season while Sharman was a player. He was an All-Star seven times, he set a record by making 55 consecutive free throws, he once made an 88-foot shot and he was named to the Naismith Hall of Fame.

Sharman’s jersey number, 21, hangs from the rafters at Boston Garden.

The former coach, former general manager and current president of the Lakers is still a star in Boston, where guilt by association with the Lakers is usually a capital offense.

“When I’m in Boston, the fans still seem to associate me with the Celtics more than the Lakers,” Sharman wrote. “When I’m in Los Angeles, most people still refer to me as the former Lakers’ coach. Many people will walk up to me and say, ‘Hi, coach. What are you doing these days?’ ”

What Sharman does these days isn’t likely to be noticed any more than he is.

Sharman works behind the scenes as one of the Lakers’ four-man team of decision makers, the others being owner Jerry Buss, General Manager Jerry West and Riley.

When the Lakers opened the championship series in Boston, Sharman was in Chicago scouting college players in a pre-draft camp. Besides scouting, Sharman deals with office business, does some public relations work and scheduling. He also spends a great deal of time answering letters.

Writing is something that Sharman has become very good at since he lost his voice for the first time late in the Lakers’ championship season of 1972. But Sharman’s voice problems grew progressively worse, although he said he is encouraged by recent therapy techniques for voice and vocal cord problems.

Despite his speaking problems, Sharman says, he isn’t just a Laker letter writer. He said he is not left out of any decisions made by the Lakers.

“Anytime I have trouble expressing my opinion or views vocally, then I will usually pass a written note to Dr. Buss or whoever it may pertain to,” Sharman wrote.

At 59, Sharman seems secure in what he is now and what he once was. There has been heartache mixed in with his glory, and that is as much a part of Sharman’s story as all the Celtic and Laker lore combined.

Sharman’s wife, Dorothy, died of cancer in 1974 when she was 40. Sharman had already lost his voice. A few months later, Sharman’s 77-year-old father died.

Sharman eventually remarried and was able to put his life back together, but it took a long time before he was able to talk about the loss of Dorothy.

In an interview with The Times a year after her death, Sharman was finally able to share what they spoke about late in her illness.

“After a while, we had to talk about it, but I seldom saw her cry and I only saw her break down twice,” Sharman said. “Once was when we spoke of how much we had together. These times just tore the guts out of me.

“The last morning, the ninth of September, Dorothy opened her eyes but didn’t speak. I told her I loved her and left. When I returned, she had died.

“I sat by her bedside a while. A month later, I moved into an apartment. I couldn’t bear to live there. . . . “

But Sharman survived, maybe because he really is the type of person that Heinsohn described in his book.

Celtic Coach K. C. Jones believes in Sharman and said he always has. Former teammates in Boston, it was Laker coach Sharman who hired Jones as his assistant in the Laker championship season of 1972.

“He is the guy who gave me my shot at being in the position that I am now,” Jones said. “I thank him every time I see him. He’s had his share of tragedy, but he’s never given up. He’s somehow gotten through it all and he’s always been a winner.

“When he was a player, Bill Sharman played with every fiber of his being,” Jones said. “He was totally dedicated to perfection. He was determined.”

You can take Sharman out of a Celtic uniform, remove him from the Laker bench, bump him upstairs to an office in the Forum and call him club president, but you can never take from him what he has learned in a lifetime of sports, or from basketball, his sport of a lifetime.

“I feel the most important thing I picked up from Red Auerbach was his basic technique regarding the fast break,” Sharman wrote. “He would point out that running and sprinting back on defense is what would usually initiate the fast break on offense.

“He would always say that basketball is a relatively simple game. However, it’s the teams and players that will make the extra effort that usually win the biggest share of close games. I strongly believe in that.

“As a person, I believe Red smokes those awful cigars to try and give the impression he is a macho-type person. However, underneath it all, I believe he is just a real softy.”

And what of Bill Sharman, the Celtic legend and the Lakers’ man upstairs? What’s beneath all those layers of Celtic green and Laker gold?

“Just a wise man,” said Riley.