Nice Guy Finishes Last : Elgin Baylor Hasn’t Had Much Success With the Clippers, But Is That His Fault?

In 1960, Jerry West and Elgin Baylor, helping christen the newly arrived Los Angeles Lakers, formed the most exciting tandem the NBA had known until then.

They shared glory and heartbreak. Each averaged 27 points a game for his career, each was elected to the Hall of Fame. As teammates, they lost six times in the NBA finals to the Boston Celtics.

Today, they sit in offices a short freeway drive apart, at opposite ends of the basketball world.

West, 57, general manager of the Lakers, has presided over a dynasty, pulling levers behind the scenes with a mastery that this season earned him the honor of executive of the year.

Baylor, 60, general manager of the Clippers, has presided over an inferno, pulling levers behind a curtain in basketball’s Oz. Last season, Baylor was curator of the league’s worst team at 17-65.

“I know it’s a horribly difficult thing for him,” West says of Baylor. “Particularly knowing how competitive he is. I really empathize with him. These things become personal. I feel horribly for him.”

Because they were teammates and remain friends, and hold similar positions in town, comparisons are inevitable. And, most would suggest, unfair.

Yet, images are concrete: West, the dogged competitor, standing in the corridors at Laker games, too nervous to watch important moments.

And Baylor, the dogged loyalist, annually representing his team at the NBA lottery, a.k.a. the Clippers’ family reunion.

Because he doesn’t complain, lash out, stand up and scream, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore,” one could assume Baylor has grown immune to defeat, that he has accepted his role as a company man whose geniality is used to blunt a continuing public relations nightmare.

He has spent nine years at the helm of this teetering Clipper, but has yet to mutiny, or even order the lifeboats lowered.

What Baylor hasn’t said all these years is how much losing is killing him.

“Why tell the world?” Baylor asks.

Those who know say Baylor, as a player and general manager, is every bit the competitor West was and is. But Baylor learned early to bottle his emotions. West’s face was an open book.

“I imagine his frustrations over the years have been monumental,” longtime Laker announcer Chick Hearn says of Baylor. “Elgin has always been, and still is, a winner.”

Whereas West’s greatness as a player has transcended into front-office success, however, Baylor’s legacy is at constant risk with the Clippers.

“I’d hate to see him forgotten,” Hearn says.

You don’t score a record 61 points in an NBA finals game, as Baylor once did against Boston, and not want to win.

You don’t make first-team All-NBA 10 times without a fire in your furnace.

“No one is any more competitive than I am,” Baylor says. “I want to win just as badly as Jerry or anybody else. That I’m not as animated, or express myself, that doesn’t make me any less competitive than anyone else. That doesn’t mean anything.”

*

Another draft, another Clipper crossroads.

Wednesday, the Clippers will have a first-round draft pick for the 20th time in the last decade.

Losing has its rewards.

In Baylor’s nine years as general manager, the Clippers have averaged 26.7 victories a season.

The team steps to the lottery plate for the sixth time since its inception in 1985, this year picking second.

Cynics are poised for the worst.

In 1987, with Scottie Pippen and Kevin Johnson available, they took Reggie Williams with the fourth pick, then followed up with Joe Wolf at 13.

In 1989, with Sean Elliott on the board, they took Danny Ferry with the second pick. He refused to report.

In 1990, it was the ill-fated Bo Kimble at pick No. 8.

Even the team’s successes have backfired. Danny Manning, the No. 1 overall pick in 1988, grew disenchanted almost immediately.

The Clippers couldn’t re-sign him, waited too long to trade him, and then peddled him to Atlanta for Dominique Wilkins, who left the next year as a free agent.

Ken Norman, a solid pick at No. 19 in 1987, is also a Clipper no longer.

Ron Harper, Mark Jackson, Don MacLean, Doc Rivers--the line forms at the rear.

Clipper reputation is such that it was reported last week that North Carolina forward Jerry Stackhouse, a top prospect, had refused to work out for the Clippers.

Stackhouse had to issue a release denying the report and eventually did work out.

“Well, he worked out, he was here,” Baylor says indignantly. “Certainly, you’re fighting that. There’s an image you’re fighting.”

Across town, it can be expected that West and his brass will find and cultivate the usual sleeper in the tradition of Vlade Divac, Nick Van Exel and Eddie Jones.

“Comparing Jerry and Elgin is apples and oranges,” says Don Casey, Clipper coach from 1988 to 1990.

Casey, now an assistant with Boston, was hired and fired by Baylor. He holds the executive in high regard.

“He picked out [Kevin] Duckworth before anyone could make a decision,” Casey says. “He liked [John] Stockton way back. He has, I think, an uncanny knack.”

So how do you explain such first-round picks as Randy Woods, Kimble, et al?

“I’m not going to get into who made the decisions,” Casey says. “You asked me about the talent. That’s a whole other subject unto itself.”

Assigning credit and blame in the Clipper organization is tricky business.

Unlike the Lakers, a linear operation, the Clippers are, as Winston Churchill once remarked about Russia, “a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.”

How much is Baylor to blame?

“You’re into a whole other subject and I’m not going to get into it,” Casey says. “But I would say, honestly, that if I didn’t think Elgin was sharp, I’d just say I don’t want to talk about it.”

Then Casey added, “Remember Watergate? Follow the trail.”

The trail, clearly marked, leads to the desk of owner Donald T. Sterling, who made his fortune in Beverly Hills real estate.

Whereas Laker owner Jerry Buss, it is understood, gives West autonomy when it comes to basketball operations, Sterling is a hands-on owner.

Norman, the former Clipper who now plays for the Atlanta Hawks, is blunt in his assessment of Baylor’s situation:

“His hands are kind of tied, I think.

“If Elgin had full control of the team, I think, I’d still be a Los Angeles Clipper and I think that we’d have a couple of championships. I believe that from the bottom of my heart. I mean, that’s the truth.”

The Clipper front office has become sort of the Bermuda Triangle of NBA operations, with Baylor, Sterling and office executive Andy Roeser collectively trying to pilot the same craft.

Baylor is understandably sensitive about the subject and refuses to play a blame game.

“I don’t think it’s necessary to get into all that,” he says. “We all accept the good and the bad, because we’re all a part of it. I admit, we made a lot of mistakes. We’re trying to do the right things. There are a lot of organizations I’m familiar with, and you’re probably familiar with, that a lot of things go on, and you say, ‘Wow!’ But what will happen, if you’re successful and winning, it will go unnoticed. But when you’re losing . . . “

Sterling, as has been his custom, declined an interview request for this story.

Baylor cringes when asked about his boss. He will not discuss his contract, or whether he fears losing his job.

He says he assumes Sterling has confidence in his abilities.

“Obviously, I think he does,” Baylor says. “But I don’t want to get into that. My relationship is fine. I have a great relationship with everyone in the organization. It’s my job to have a great relationship with everyone.”

Asked if he would prefer more control of operations, Baylor bristles.

“Why do we get into [the subject of] more control of the organization?” he says. “We’re doing what we want to do. The coach, Bill [Fitch] and I, and the basketball staff, we’re trying to put this basketball program together.”

Baylor already put Humpty Dumpty together once.

After years of toil--in Buffalo, San Diego, and Los Angeles--Clipper franchise miseries appeared over in 1991-92, when Larry Brown took over at midseason and led the team to its first playoff appearance in 16 years, losing in five games to Utah in the first round.

With a nucleus of young talent, assembled by Baylor, the Clippers had seemingly stepped out from under the long Laker shadow.

The Clippers appeared a quality center away from title contention, more or less the story of Baylor’s life. (See NBA record book, Bill Russell vs. Lakers.)

The Clippers made the playoffs again the next year, losing to Houston in five games. Then the wheels came off.

Brown, a noted nomad, bolted again, this time frustrated by the front office’s inability to resolve Manning’s contract situation and to lock up key players before they could leave as free agents.

On his way out of town, Brown was quoted as saying, “I didn’t think we ever had a true chain of command . . . “

Despite Brown’s track record, Baylor says today he is still shocked that the coach left after less than two seasons.

“I think when we signed Larry Brown, we anticipated Larry being here more than the couple seasons he was here, “ Baylor says. “Larry, also, he likes California. I think Larry was surprised too. I think Larry surprised himself.”

After Brown’s tease, it was back to Clipperball. Instead of landing Lenny Wilkens as Brown’s successor, the team settled for Bob Weiss.

Instead of getting value for Manning when it was clear he was going to play out his contract and leave, the Clippers waited and lost.

Baylor’s baby quickly blew up. Manning, Norman, Rivers, Harper, Charles Smith--all soon departed.

“If you look at Elgin, and what he did, he put a hell of a team together,” Norman says. “It got broken up, but that’s not Elgin’s fault.”

The Brown years were followed by 27- and 17-victory seasons.

“We just felt we had turned the corner and then, things happened,” Baylor says.

Meanwhile, back in the basement. . .

After the Weiss fiasco, veteran coach Bill Fitch was coaxed out of retirement and coached well enough to prevent the Clippers from breaking Philadelphia’s single-season record for losses.

That exceeded expectations, but it wasn’t saying much.

Baylor says many of the team’s problems were self-induced, but some were also bad luck.

Despite all the lottery picks, Baylor says, “We’ve never been in a draft where we’ve been able to pick a franchise player.”

When the Clippers picked fourth in 1987, David Robinson was already gone.

They also picked the wrong two years to make the playoffs and miss the lottery.

The 1992 draft included Shaquille O’Neal and Alonzo Mourning. In 1993, the Clippers missed out on the pool of Chris Webber, Shawn Bradley and Jamal Mashburn.

Wednesday, they select second in a draft bereft of impact players.

Some wonder why Baylor doesn’t get out while he can and salvage the rest of his career.

Baylor says the answer is simple.

“I’m not a quitter,” he says. “I’m not a quitter. Because it can happen. It can happen. It happened once before and it can happen again. And it will. I believe that.”

As for salvaging his career and good name, Baylor adds, “Well, it isn’t over yet.”

*

Jerry West got to exorcise his demons.

He finally bagged his precious championship in 1971-72, helping the Lakers to the NBA title on what many consider the best team in history.

Baylor was in the team picture that year, but retired in November of ‘71, having appeared in only nine games.

Injuries had reduced him to a shell of his former self and Baylor had too much pride to tag along for the ride.

“I just didn’t want to hang on a team and say I won a championship,” he says. “I wanted to be part of it.”

So Baylor left the game with the dubious title he still holds: greatest player never to win a championship.

Hearn worries that people will forget how great Baylor was.

“For many years, I said he was the greatest player I’d ever seen,” Hearn says.

As for the Boston hex, West exacted a measure of revenge as general manager in June of 1985, when the Lakers finally beat the Celtics in the NBA finals.

The following April, Baylor was named vice president of operations for the Clippers.

West moved to the front office in 1979 and became general manager in 1983. With him behind the desk, the Lakers have won five NBA titles.

Baylor has won little except sympathy.

But is it a fair comparison?

West inherited a team that had Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Magic Johnson.

Baylor inherited Benoit Benjamin.

West has an owner who stays out of the way.

Baylor has Sterling.

Even West concedes, “there are a lot of factors involved.”

Baylor will only offer an analogy.

“It’s like in a poker game,” he says. “We start with the same stakes. Then see how we end up. Don’t start someone off with a million dollars and give me a thousand dollars.”

That’s about as controversial as Baylor gets.

When he was a high school phenom in Washington, D.C., a summer league coach issued some advice that has stuck with Baylor.

“I was taught, ‘Never let the opponent know what you’re thinking,’ ” Baylor says. “If you’re embarrassed on a play, don’t let him know it.”

So what if he is screaming inside? Why take it out on someone else?

“This guy’s got class,” West says. “And guys with class don’t get into those kinds of dialogues.”

Ken Norman: “Elgin is one of the classiest men I’ve met in my life.”

Hearn: “I’ve never heard a bad word said about Elgin Baylor. Ever.”

Life was easier as a player.

“When you’re a player and have a bad game, you know you can come back the next night,” Baylor says.

Too bad Baylor can’t still lace up his sneakers.

“I can’t stand losing,” he says. “It’s very frustrating. But why do I have to tell the world?”