Miller Shots: Tales of the Tape Measure

It was a little more than 20 years ago. The Knicks and the Lakers were tied at a game apiece in the NBA finals at the Forum, and the Lakers trailed by a basket with three seconds to go. Naturally, Jerry West had the ball. But he was still in the back court, and there was no time to get to the hoop overland.

Jerry let fly. Ordinarily, you would say it was a “desperation” shot, but with Jerry West, nothing was desperation. He was deadly from any point on the floor. The ball was in all the way. Swish.

The basket has been variously estimated to have been shot from 60 to 75 feet. It’s for sure it was well beyond midcourt.

The interesting thing is, it only tied the score. Baskets counted the same whether dunked or thrown from 70 feet in those days.

The Knicks actually went on in overtime to win that game and, ultimately, that series, four games to three.

A historic injustice had been perpetrated. That shot should have won that game and, who knows, eventually the series.

It took the league about another decade to upgrade midcourt baskets and rate them over dunk shots. Before that, a single had, so to speak, counted as much as a home run in the game.

No one is sure how much that shot inspired the NBA to authorize the three-point shot (anywhere 23 feet 9 inches out from the backboard), but today it is an increasing part in the strategy of the game.

Still, if you think Jerry West was victimized, consider the case of Reginald Wayne Miller, of the famous Riverside Millers (brother Darrell, big league catcher; sister Cheryl, 100-points-in-one-night basketball player).

It is the view of those who watched him in college that Reggie Miller was the deadliest long-ball hitter the NCAA had seen when he played for UCLA. Forty-foot baskets were commonplace.

Trouble was, in those days, the colleges had no three-point system. Not until a decade after the pros did the colleges reward toll-call baskets.

That was Reggie Miller’s senior year, 1987. He promptly threw in 69 three-point baskets his last season. As impressive as his college statistics were--2,095 points, a 25.9-point average one season, a 22.3-point average another--they might have been awe-inspiring if he’d had the three-pointer in the arsenal all four years instead of just the last.

Reggie has taken the act to the Indiana Pacers, where, as the shooting guard, he presents a terrible problem to the defense.

There are players in the league you can leave alone 25 feet from the basket. They couldn’t put the ball into a small lake from that distance.

You have to start guarding Reggie Miller the minute he leaves the locker room. He could, as the league defenders grumble, probably score from the parking lot.

Of Miller’s 661 baskets in 1989-90, 150 of them were three-pointers. He is the hoop sport’s equivalent of a railroad gun.

Last year, 112 of his 596 field goals counted for three points.

Is the three-point basket accounting for the mysterious disappearance of the dominance of the big man in the pivot? Why haven’t Patrick Ewing and David Robinson taken over this game the way Wilt Chamberlain and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar did in their eras? Why is the championship going to teams starring Isiah Thomas and Michael Jordan instead of the guys in the middle?

In 1979-80, the first season statistics were kept for them, there were 4,663 three-point baskets tried. Last season, there were 15,813. Even allowing for a five-team expansion, that’s an impressive increase.

The football coach, John McKay, once asked about his (frequent) use of his running back, O.J. Simpson, replied: “If you have a gun, you shoot it.”

The Pacers more or less feel the same way about their heavy artillery, Reggie Miller. He is the biggest longball threat by that name since that other Reggie was hitting three home runs a game for the Yankees in the World Series.

This Reggie hits tape-measure jobs, too. The beauty of being able to triangulate baskets that come in over the horizon is, it spreads the defense. Defenders cannot swarm to protect the lanes when Reggie is the one out there with the ball. “They can’t leave me alone out there,” Miller smiles. “They don’t dare.” It’s like ignoring a guy climbing into your bedroom window.

Reggie perfected his long-range touch at UCLA. “I threw in some baskets that were in four-point range,” he says with a grin.

Having a three-point shot is like going into a shootout with two guns, Miller says. “Among other things, it helps my drive,” he admits. He is never considered safely shut off till he’s in the shower.

Some people were surprised when Reggie Miller didn’t hold out for playing in his native Southern California. Even his good friend and mentor, Magic Johnson, suggested that he play out his option in Indiana and seek employment with the Lakers.

Miller was interested in victory, not geography. “I felt the Lakers were a set team,” he explains. “I think the Pacers have a great future in this game.”

So does Reggie Miller. He has just signed a $17-million contract with the team, for six years. He likes the moonlight on the Wabash.

Last season, his Hoosier hotshots stunned the lordly Boston Celtics, pushing them to five games in the first playoff round before losing the fifth game--barely, 124-121.

The other night at the Sports Arena, the Pacers ran into the newest roadblock in the NBA, the Clippers. The Clippers think they’re the 1969 Celtics these days, and they outran, out-jumped and outscored a surprised Indiana team, 106-97. Reggie Miller, who had thrown in nine of 23 three-point attempts this season, drew the collar against the Clippers. He was 0 for 7. “Embarrassing wasn’t it?” he said, smiling as he soaked his ankle in ice after the game.

Will he be more cautious in the future? “Never!” Reggie says. He has no intention of becoming One-Gun Miller.

It is said bad news comes in threes. For the Pacers, so does good news.