Wes Unseld’s Perseverance Is Paying Off

The scene that best illustrates Wes Unseld occurred about a year after his retirement as a player in 1981. In the no-frills gym at Bowie State University where the Washington Bullets practice, impish newcomer Frank Johnson playfully bounced a ball off Unseld’s head and started a can’t-catch-me dance several yards away. Unseld in a suit and tie was even less mobile than he’d been during 13 NBA seasons, as perhaps the only modern-era player to make the Basketball Hall of Fame without ever rising more than an inch or so off a basketball floor.

Still, Unseld’s reaction was enough to make Johnson nervous.

“The difference between you and me,” Unseld said, “is that I have perseverance. You’re faster, but I’ll have them lock the gym. Eventually, I will wear you down -- and catch you.”

That was Unseld’s style as a player. As he frequently said: “I wanted to make sure that when it came down to the latter stages of the fourth quarter my man was so physically tired he couldn’t do what he wanted to do.”

That is Unseld’s style as the Bullets’ once-reluctant coach, who, nearing the end of his third full season, clearly enjoys the job. And even though his career record is 36 games below .500, his work has been almost universally praised. The consensus judgment: When Wes gets players, he’ll win.

“His guys come out to play every night,” said 76ers Coach Jimmy Lynam. “I don’t know what more you can ask of a coach than to have his team ready to play and to have them play hard.”

“He has an incredible ability to go to war with less than the opposition,” said Bullets General Manager John Nash, “and somehow make it work.”

There was some support for Unseld to be an assistant to Detroit’s Chuck Daly as coach for the U.S. team in the 1992 Olympics, a spot that went to Cleveland’s Lenny Wilkens.

Unseld “is young enough (at 45) to be around and be the Olympic head coach some day,” said New Jersey Coach Bill Fitch.

The night before being eliminated from playoff contention this month included a first for Unseld: being thrown out of a game, in his 292nd as a coach. Some who have watched Unseld for a long time were surprised it took that long, because Unseld the player fussed about almost all of his 3,133 regular-season and playoff fouls.

No one understands the importance of dominant players and how to get them better than Unseld and the Bullets. As their top choice -- and the second player chosen -- in the 1968 draft, rookie Unseld helped the Bullets go from 10 games below .500 to 32 games above .500.

Deep down, he knows that the draft lottery, weighted as it is toward teams with even worse records than Washington’s, is the way to get a franchise-turning player. Still, he insists:

“Once you accept that attitude, I don’t think it’s easy to recuperate. There’s not any leeway. You can’t say: ‘Okay, we’ll accept losing and try to win’ (through the lottery). I think it’s too easy to lose.”

Ever candid, Unseld evaluated some players in whom the Bullets have invested heavily and around whom the future may -- or may not -- be built:

-- Pervis Ellison. “We gave up a lot (Jeff Malone), but it might be the best trade since Elvin Hayes. ... A great attitude. Wants to learn. I was surprised at how much he didn’t know. That really shocked me. He’s going to be good because he wants to be good. He’s going to be a player.”

-- Tom Hammonds. “I don’t know. I say that only in the sense that I don’t know if Tommy likes to play enough. You’ve got to like to compete, mix it up. I don’t know if he likes the game well enough. I think he’d rather be hunting and fishing. A lot depends on how much time he’s willing to put in during the summer. As yet, he hasn’t done that. Last year, he went back to school. Which is very admirable. Now, he’s got to go to NBA school, I think. Get that degree. Next season will be his third. If you don’t know at the end of three years, it’s time to cut your losses and go on someplace else.”

-- John Williams. “A very talented, very nice individual. Maybe too nice, too giving. I thought he had a versatility that not a lot of people have. I wonder sometimes what his mobility is going to be like” after his knee injury and weight gain. “Last year, before he got hurt, he was in great shape and, for the first time, understood that if he was going to be a great player he had to show it. Then he got hurt.”

Unseld the player always hated coaches who created scapegoats in the locker room, who chose to avoid confrontations with star players, who spoke to the team rather than the specific offender.

“He doesn’t pick on the 12th man,” said guard Darrell Walker. “He starts with me and Bernard (King) and works his way down. A lot of coaches would yell at A.J. English -- and he’s not playing. I respect that a whole lot. He makes his point, makes it quick and then it’s over with.”

Mostly.

Not long after he replaced Kevin Loughery as Bullets coach early in the 1987-88 season, Unseld and Manute Bol nearly fought at halftime in Chicago. Before the game, Unseld had reminded the 7-foot-6 Bol about bringing the ball down where mortal-sized players could swipe it away; twice Bol did exactly that -- and the ball was stolen by Michael Jordan each time. Unseld benched him after the second offense.

At halftime, “I usually stay out of the locker room two or three minutes, so the players can say whatever among themselves,” Unseld said. “I go in and Manute’s still ranting and raving. I tell him to calm down. I have a rule: Do it right or shut me up. I’ve been hit before. Manute stood up to shut me up.”

Witnesses say that while Bol was talking fight, Unseld was the one moving toward one, swatting aside a table that separated one extraordinarily tall man from one extraordinarily wide man. Unseld had Bol by the jersey when some players separated them.

“Manute swears I traded him because of that,” Unseld said.

Did he?

Unseld chuckled and said: “No. Manute was a model citizen after that. He played the best basketball he played for us all year.”

On the morning between games on consecutive nights, Unseld was doing a series of back-to-back-to-back clinics.

He was a more than willing participant because he knew, from six years in the front office, how difficult selling a mediocre team can be. On display was the gentle-gruff Unseld his players see.

No one was excluded. The coach almost went into the stands to coax onto the court a woman in a pink warm-up outfit. When he said “down” the second time, everybody plopped. When he demonstrated chest passes by whipping some three-quarters of the court, savvy fans realized his exceptional strength.

Fortunately, he set no picks. Only his players know how unsettling that can be.

“Greg Foster didn’t set one correctly once in training camp,” Hammonds recalled. “Wes got a little fed up. He said there were two things he did as a player: set picks and rebound. He demonstrated -- on me. A crushing pick. Seemed like every bone in my body crumbled. I didn’t hit the floor, but came close. Had to go down on my knees.”

Not always obvious, even to players, is Unseld’s penchant for order and detail. He favors a particular brand of pen and a particular kind of note pad. He has two calendars, one of which he carries around in a suit-coat pocket. His signature pointing-at-the-stands gesture after home games is toward his wife, Connie. It’s a thank you for enduring his pregame habits.

What he did on the court might not seem complicated, but he concentrated -- hard and long -- on how to make it work. At 1 o’clock, he would prop up his legs and listen to classical music. Mellow Mozart got him ready to bang with Willis Reed. At 4, it was time to warm his perpetually aching knees with a long bath.

Unseld’s game-day routine as a coach is different. He rises early and watches a first-half tape of that night’s opponent. Later, he watches more tape for “tendencies, what might help us break down a particular individual.” He tries to eat before 1 and rest between 1:30 and 3. With his knees no longer a factor, he takes a 4 p.m. shower.

For Capital Centre games, Unseld always drives the same route from home in his Chevy Blazer, although the music in the tape deck is now what he calls “street-corner stuff.” Mint Julep instead of Mozart. Also, he must hear the 5 o’clock news.

“I don’t like surprises,” he said.

Neither does Unseld like for his players to be surprised. They are given notes on each of the several players they might be matched against that night; they are quizzed shortly before tipoff.

“That’s why when you get up and holler at a guy for letting his man go by him who can only score if he goes right, there’s some justification,” Unseld said. “If he hasn’t been told, you have no reason to be upset. If a guy beats you going left, that’s different. Sometimes, that’s going to happen.”

All too often this season, what has happened is some vital Bullet getting hurt. Bernard King here, Harvey Grant there. Sometimes, both guards. Even at full strength, the Bullets often are undermanned.

“You go into a game,” said Unseld, watching a tape, “and you can’t find a way to win. That’s frustrating. That’s no fun. I can accept losing. I’ve had to. But to go into a game and not have a way of winning is really frustrating as hell.

“We’ve gone through periods like that. We couldn’t score. You take (King’s) 30 points out of our lineup, you take (Grant’s) 19 points out of our lineup, we’re in the 70s. That’s what we score: 70, 80 points a game. We still held teams under what they usually get. We still did the other aspects. But we couldn’t score.”

Frequently this season, Unseld has had this succinct scouting report: “They’re so physical, we’re so skinny.”

Still, Unseld wants to persevere. His contract runs out in June; he and owner Abe Pollin have put off talks until after the season. Given their uniquely close relationship, the big-picture issue seemed resolved after this exchange between a reporter and Unseld:

“Do you want to be back with the Bullets?”

“Yeah.”

Unseld added: “I like it. The whole thing is enjoyable. I’m working with a pretty good group of kids. I mean men. They give you their best.”

Said Walker, 30: “I would like, two years from now, to still be here. Maybe as the third or fourth guard, sit back and see the young guys develop. Wes would never leave till we’re back winning.”

Said Unseld, “I’d like to get it right one time.”