Converse’s relationship with the NBA goes back to the beginning. The OGs on the Knicks and Lakers rocked the Star in 1946 during the Basketball Association of America’s inaugural season. Both the League and Converse have grown considerably in the 71 years since, and the two understand their iconic status in both basketball and sneakers.

“I know in my first look at basketball on TV, I saw my favorite players wearing Chuck Taylors,” Julius “Dr. J” Erving says via press release. “That was the shoe to get. When you see people who you admire, people who you idolize, you look at them from head to toe…what they have on their feet is big.”

To honor the deep bond between the old partners, Converse is releasing the NBA Chuck Taylor All Star 70 collection, made up of three styles.

Dubbed the “Gameday,” the “Legend” and the “Franchise,” the kicks pay tribute to fans and their teams alike. Five of the most storied franchises get a “Legend” makeup. For the Celtics version, an embossed “17” in Roman numerals gives props to the franchise’s historic title count. The Bulls sneaker pays homage to Chicago fans who brave Windy City winters with an interior lining. The “Gameday” joints are made with authentic NBA jersey material, while the “Legend” versions get the premium leather treatment. Rounding out the trio is the “Franchise,” which is made out of swingman jerseys.

Ranging in prices from $100 to $250, the collaboration features other key team details like a “Once a Knick, Always a Knicks” design, chrome and silver accents to honor the lights of Hollywood, and Bay Bridge-inspired embroidery. All of the sneakers have EVA foam in the midsole to provide a nice cushioning. The finishing touch is the NBA logo that sits proudly on the inner tongue of each “Legend” colorway.

Under a shower of confetti, Kevin Durant finished his 10th NBA season on Monday night. This means we now have a full decade’s worth to judge just how good he is in the larger, historical scope. Now that he’s finished the best defensive season of his career and a transcendent NBA Finals MVP-worthy performance against likely the best small forward of all time, should Durant already be considered the third-best player at his position in NBA history?

To explore this question, I spoke with four former NBA players who have either played with or against Larry Bird and Julius Erving—M.L. Carr, Reggie Theus, Sidney Moncrief and Scott Weldman. Theus also coached against Durant when New Mexico State played Texas at the 2007 NCAA Tournament and as head coach of the Kings and an assistant coach for the Timberwolves. I also got insight from Bob Ryan, the legendary sportswriter who had a front row seat for Bird’s career and has covered the NBA since the 1960s.

Before delving into breakdowns of how Durant stacks up against Bird and Erving, all of them offered caveats on the inherent difficulty of comparing players from different eras. For example, the modern game stresses three-point shooting far more than the game did in the ’70s and ’80s. This is one reason Kevin Durant leads other top small forwards in terms of true shooting percentage, a metric gauging shooting efficiency that involves points scored from three pointers, field goals and free-throws.

Here are a look at how Durant’s shooting percentages stack up against Bird, Lebron and Dr. J:

Rule changes in the 21st century have titled in the offense’s favor, meaning players today face far less physical defenses than in previous generations. M.L. Carr, who played on the Boston Celtics from 1979 to 1985, said that back in the day he and other NBA players practiced a physical brand of defense that would get them suspended from today’s game. “Instead of going up the side to block someone’s shot, I’d go to block the shot to get him under the chin and rub that nose and try to break the nose. That’s what I did, okay? Plain and simple,” Carr recalls. “There was nothing I wouldn’t do on the court. Nothing.”

But those days are over.

“Commissioner [David] Stern, before he left, made sure that those stars are protected,” adds Carr.

It should also be noted that at the highest levels of the game, the lines between position break downs—especially on a team like Golden State where Durant often alternates between the two forward spots and center—are often blurred. “The rigid notion of ‘small forward’ or ‘power forward’ is often irrelevant,” longtime Boston Globe writer Bob Ryan says. “The two best forwards ever are Bird and LeBron, in some order. They are each uncategorizable.”

So, yes, pure apple-to-apple comparisons are impossible. But before these NBA Finals, that hadn’t stopped the LeBron vs. MJ debate, and it shouldn’t stop this debate either. The following is a breakdown of parts of Durant’s game vs. those of Bird and Erving.

Shooting

All interviewees agreed Bird and Durant operate in the same stratosphere when it comes to flat-out shooting ability and range. A physical advantage may go to Durant, who has a longer wingspan than Bird. “When Durant gets into into a scoring area, you’re always in jeopardy,” says Reggie Theus, a small forward with the Chicago Bulls from 1978 to 1984. “The way the game was played before, is they would run him off a pick. He would catch the ball 16 to 20 feet out. Now Durant is bringing the ball up the floor, or he’s catching it at 25, 27 feet away from the basket,” he adds. “With Larry Bird, you could basically physically stop him from catching the ball in certain areas, whereas you really can’t with Durant because he’ll catch it 30 feet from the basket.”

While Julius Erving was an inferior shooter to Bird and Durant, Theus considers him “just as great a scorer” because of his ability to finish, get to the rim and to the free throw line. Erving, he says, was nearly in a class by himself in running the floor. LeBron James is the closest parallel, but whereas James uses his strength to bull through defenders, “Doc sort of finessed around you and went over the top of you.”

Sidney Moncrief, a Milwaukee Bucks superstar in the 1980s, adds that Erving’s massive hand size and ability to easily palm the ball gave him a unique advantage.

Ball handling and Passing

“I think Durant has the ability to manipulate the defense off the dribble more, in terms of manipulating the floor. Larry Bird was better than Durant in terms of passing, in terms of setting his teammates up,” says Theus.

“No one anticipated angles of the game better than Larry,” adds M.L. Carr. “He would sense where you were going to be and he got the ball there in the nick of time. It was unbelievable how he read the defenses with his passing. I just had never seen that before. If you ask me about passing, comparing Durant to Larry, there is no comparison. There just isn’t. Shooting, yes, but there is not on the passing.”

This is the side of the ball where Durant’s potential, due to his seven-foot frame, long arms, timing and quickness, appears to be higher than that of Bird’s and Erving’s. He’s focused on defense all season long and was especially good in these playoffs against the likes of All-Star Gordon Hayward and All-World LeBron James. “All you want as a defender is make a guy think twice,” Draymond Green recently told ESPN. “That’s what you saw with LeBron. He knows he can’t just attack KD.”

“If this is really who he is, it’s going to take him to another level because I think that defensively Bird and Doc were—I wouldn’t say poor defenders—but they weren’t considered to be great defenders,” says Theus.

Scott Wedman, a small forward who played for Kansas City-Omaha from 1974 to 1981 and later for the Celtics, says, “Larry was a great help defender and Dr. J was a great passing lane defender. When Dr. J was guarding me, I don’t think it was his sole objective to shut me down, I was maybe a 20-point scorer at best. I thought he was normally just looking at the passing lanes so he could be dunking on the other end.”

M.L. Carr recalls, “You could isolate Larry one-on-one and sometimes he’d have some problems, but in the defensive setting there was never a better team defensive player. Larry was an incredible team defensive player because he was talking to you. Dr. J could shut you down when he wanted to, he’d get pissed off because something happened. He could do that because he had the athletic ability to do that. Durant is not there yet. He’s had a good year defensively, but one year does not make a dynasty. Matter of fact, you tell the Golden State Warrior fans two years doesn’t make a dynasty either.”

Conclusion

It’s clear Durant is widely respected by basketball insiders regardless of all generations. His game, foremost, is built on a mastery of fundamentals and would transfer well to any era. In terms of raw statistics and overall damage done in his decade in the League so far, the 28-year-old Durant has already made a strong case for number three small forward of all-time behind only James and Bird.

But will he surpass Bird for No. 2?

Larry Bird won three NBA championships and was clearly the best and most important player on his Boston Celtics teams. On these Warriors, Durant’s skill set makes him the best player or second-best player (behind Curry) on a loaded roster. But in terms of importance, you can certainly argue that Draymond Green is the team’s most versatile player and its emotional leader.

For many fans and insiders, the number of championships Durant ends up winning beyond this first one will ultimately determine his all-time ranking. Sidney Moncrief knows that’s the metric by which many people choose their “greatest” of all time. Still, he doesn’t think a specific number of rings should alter Durant’s all-time stature one way or the other. “I don’t think it would matter even if he didn’t win the championship, because he’s a great player,” he says.

“You are who you are as a player. What about all those Olympians [without NBA titles] who won a Gold Medal with the Dream Team? No one’s saying because they played on the Dream Team they’re not great players, or they’re not champions.”

—

Photos via Getty Images

Evin Demirel is a writer who grew up in Little Rock, Arkansas. He knows the odds of fellow Arkansan Scottie Pippen cracking this all-time Top 4 are worse than the Nets winning the 2018 NBA Championship, but wanted to mention Pip anyway.

]]>http://www.slamonline.com/nba/julius-erving-83-sixers-beat-warriors/feed/01983 NBAELOS ANGELES, CA - MAY 31: Julius Erving of the Philadelphia 76ers celebrates following Game Four of the NBA Finals played against the Los Angeles Lakers on May 31, 1983 at the Great Western Forum in Los Angeles, California. Philadelphia defeated Los Angeles 115-108 and won the series 4-0. NOTE TO USER: User expressly acknowledges that, by downloading and or using this photograph, User is consenting to the terms and conditions of the Getty Images License agreement. Mandatory Copyright Notice: Copyright 1983 NBAE (Photos by NBA Photos/NBAE via Getty Images)WATCH: Julius ‘Dr. J’ Erving Sets ‘The Stage’ In New NBA Finals Spothttp://www.slamonline.com/nba/julius-erving-nba-commercial/
http://www.slamonline.com/nba/julius-erving-nba-commercial/#respondWed, 17 May 2017 13:00:56 +0000http://www.slamonline.com/?p=441495

Julius Erving knows all about the big the stage that is the NBA Finals. Dr. J won two ABA championships and one NBA championship during his Hall of Fame career and can tell you straight up that a player is always judged on if they won a ring or not.

In the latest NBA spot, Erving describes “the ultimate stage” and what it takes for players to reach their goal. Check it above.

The legend himself, Dr. J, talks his memories of playing at Harlem’s Rucker Park, the ABA, what he thinks of today’s game, the changes made to the Dunk Contest, being an icon, his Converse deal and much, much more.

Pepsi took over Daisy Dukes for an Uncle Drew-themed pop-up shop this past weekend in New Orleans. The space included limited edition Drew gear, food and drinks, prize giveaways and music provided by iHeart’s own DJ Envy and DJ Poppa and vintage Pepsi branding.

The apparel gods over at Roots of Fight have added basketball-themed clothing to their already strong roster of boxing, baseball and football gear.

To help them make their start, Shaquille O’Neal, Julius Erving, Allen Iverson and Dennis Rodman have partnered with them for a collection that includes hats ($34.95), tanks ($34.95), tees ($39.95), sweatpants ($69.95), pullover hoodies ($74.95), full-zip hoodies ($79.95), and jackets ($109.99).

It’s all available now. Peep some of the collection in the gallery above and head over to the Roots of Fight site to pick up your gear.

Julius Erving, currently in Japan serving as a judge of a dunking exhibition involving trampolines, says he was blown away by this year’s NBA dunk contest. According to Dr. J, the Zach LaVine-Aaron Gordon battle was on par with Michael Jordan and Dominique Wilkins squaring off back in 1988. The Hall of Famer, however, believes […]

According to Dr. J, the Zach LaVine-Aaron Gordon battle was on par with Michael Jordan and Dominique Wilkins squaring off back in 1988.

The Hall of Famer, however, believes the title of greatest dunker ever still belongs to Vince Carter.

Per Complex:

Who is the best dunker you have ever seen?

JE: “I’ll tell you; Zach has put on a show the last couple of years. He has to get kudos. I don’t know if the surprise factor and the timing coordination dunks that he does are as impactful as what Vince Carter brought to the scene when he did a few things that hadn’t been seen before. I think with Connie Hawkins, myself, Michael Jordan, Dominique Wilkins, Clyde Drexler, there’s a lineage there, and I think Vince shook it up a little bit there with a couple of dunks there. I’m gonna let him reside in that spot right there.”

Where did this past dunk contest rank on your all-time list?

JE: “It was clearly as good as the Wilkins-Jordan showdown, and I had a showdown with David Thompson back in ’76 which was the last year in the ABA. It doesn’t get acknowledged as much, but it was a great showdown. But Zach and [Aaron] Gordon, in terms of the guys who are judging and to hear what they had to say during that time, records are made to be broken, and standards of the bar are established to be challenged so somebody can go above it. I would put those two guys, the things they did this past show in Toronto, at the top of the bar. Even for them to chase next year, or put some new guys next year to go after it…they have raised the bar to a different level.”

Known for his thunderous dunks, impeccable afro, and stylish hi-top Converses, Julius “Dr. J” Erving is considered basketball royalty, especially in the City of Brotherly Love. A devout contributor to the Salvation Army, and fan favorite even long after his playing career, the Doc has obtained the reputation of “class act” both on and off the basketball floor. Last night was yet another display of just that. Steiner Sports, the largest, most-trusted sports memorabilia and marketing company in the country holding exclusive deals with superstar athletes such as Derek Jeter, Henrik Lundqvist, and Chris Paul; held an intimate meet and greet with the Hall of Famer for a group of its most valued customers.

During the live Q&A, CEO Brandon Steiner touched on an array of topics including how he got his nickname, Doc’s all-time NBA starting five, his experience playing with a young Charles Barkley, and life after basketball. Those in attendance also had the opportunity to engage Erving, asking questions of their own; during which he revealed how he scored his 30,000th career point and why Steve Mix was his all-time favorite teammate. SLAM also had the chance to catch up with the living legend before the event to discuss the state of the Philadelphia 76ers, his famous dunk on Michael Cooper and more.

SLAM: As a 76ers legend and an integral part of their championship run during the 1980s, what is your current view on the direction of the franchise and Sam Hinkie’s plan?

Julius Erving: Well, my view is that it’s different. I mean, it’s a waiting game. A new ownership group came in and they wanted to be contenders inside of seven years. So, that was four years ago which means this is year five of what was perceived to be a seven-year plan to be contenders. They [ownership] knew they were going to see a lot of losses, something that long-time Sixer fans are not used to but they recognized they were a seven or eight seed and wanted to be in the top four come playoff time. Now basketball isn’t about putting $5 bills and $10 bills in the corner, you have to put some players out there. It’s not so much about the economics, even though the Sixers are in a great economic position to go out and get maybe one of the top 10 or 15 players in the league via free agency. If they could do that over the next two seasons, that would help mightily.

SLAM:You touch on some good points, because many Sixer fans including myself, realized that as a seven or eight seed the Sixers would never advance past the first round. So they are willing to wait this process out.

JE: Yeah, and that was the mentality of the ownership group. As Wall Street guys and Wharton guys they are used to winning and being successful at the things they touch. They are also used to systematic approaches being implemented and sticking to that. So, I think that is where they are right now.

SLAM: You were one of the few players that was able to sustain top-level star power even after the league merger occurred. What was life like both on and off the court during your time in Philadelphia knowing you were in the prime of your career and arguably the biggest star in the game?

JE: From age 26-37, when I was in Philadelphia I had already settled down and gotten married so I was a family man by that time. Family and friends were on the front line; I had great friendships with Grover Washington Jr., Teddy Pendergrass, Patti LaBelle, and others who were in entertainment. So, we shared a large stage together and did dinners/social events at one another’s homes. Philly was on the map during that time and there was a year where the Eagles, Sixers, Phillies, and the Flyers all made it to the finals. That was great for the city and as a sports fan what more could you want? For me, though I was always conscious that there was life after basketball. So, I incorporated myself and created the urban group and started compartmentalizing my business life with my basketball life and my family life.

SLAM: Due to your size and athleticism you are one of the few players in NBA history that could perform at a high level across all eras. What adjustments, if any however, would you make to your game if you were drafted to today’s NBA?

JE: It’s interesting because teams utilize the three-point line totally different today. Back then, teams would only use it if they were down or in desperation. But now, guys shoot the three pointer as a preference to get the other team in a hole. So probably for me I would focus on being a better player on the perimeter. I made three-pointers over the course of my career but it wasn’t a priority. Also, I always had the mindset of ‘why should I stand out here and shoot a jump shot when I know I can get a lay-up on these guys?’ [laughs]. That’s all I could see from an adjustment standpoint though.

SLAM: One of the most iconic plays in NBA history is your dunk on Michael Cooper. Could you take me through that play?

JE: Well, [laughs] he’s a shot blocker that could leap so he was formidable and I was aware that I was being chased by a shot blocker. We were almost running neck and neck so he was getting his steps together thinking that he was going to go in and catch it or get caught. So, when I picked the ball up I cradled it, moved it forward, then went back and I jumped. When he leaped, his momentum carried him under the basket and he ducked while I was still hovering over him. When he ducked, I just threw it in. It’s been shown so many times now that it’s like Twitter hits [laughs] but I’ve spoken to Michael Cooper a couple times and even though he doesn’t like the play, he likes that it kind of keeps him out there.

During a promotional pit stop in Asia, Shaquille O’Neal waded into the Michael Jordan vs LeBron James debate—Shaq says an in-his-prime MJ would beat LeBron in their fantasy one-on-one matchup. O’Neal’s most interesting remarks concerned Mike’s place atop the basketball mountaintop. According to the big fella, Julius Erving stands above everyone in the game’s history. […]

O’Neal, visiting Hong Kong to promote an energy drink, faced both Jordan and James in their prime and when asked who would win a hypothetical match-up, he didn’t hesitate. […] “Mike,” said O’Neal, winner of four NBA titles with the Los Angeles Lakers (2000-2002) and the Miami Heat (2006). “I think you have to go with a young Jordan every time.”

“It would be an interesting game,” said O’Neal. “Young LeBron was more like (Lakers Hall of Famer) Magic Johnson. He was sort of like Magic with Jordan’s abilities. He liked to pass, and he liked to get it up. But Mike was Mike. He was just special, like no one else. He always did things no one else could do, and things you couldn’t compare to anyone else. So he was special, and he’d win.”

“I’ve seen young Mike and young LeBron and I must say Dr. J is still my favourite player,” said O’Neal. “A lot of people today don’t even mention his name but to me I still think he was the best. But these are questions that we’ll never know the answer to. […] It’s a bit like if I met Bruce Lee in an alleyway. Who would win? You’ll never know. Some people say well Bruce would kick Shaq’s ass. Some people say well Shaq is two times bigger than Bruce Lee. It’s a good question, a good conversation. But we’ll never know.”

Everything appears to be on right schedule for the Philadelphia Sixers, according to the legendary Julius Erving. Dr. J reports that he was told by the ownership group in Philadelphia that, in 2012, the Sixers embarked on a seven-year odyssey back to respectability—if not outright NBA championship contention. So, y’know, check back in 2019 to […]

In partnership with our friends at VILLA and Starter, we got the chance to host a live Q+A session with the legendary “Dr. J” Julius Erving in Manhattan over All-Star Weekend. Fans in attendance were treated to an intimate interview setting at the VILLA x Starter pop-up in Midtown, moderated by SLAM senior writer Alan Paul. During the chat, Dr. J opened up about some of the best moments in his career, his most memorable dunks and all things All-Star.

If you weren’t there, you missed a half-hour of honest NBA talk from one of the greatest to ever play the game. But to get a taste of what the event was like, watch the videos above and below. Big thanks to Doc for coming through and giving us a great interview!

Fresh off three Grammy nominations, including Best Rap Performance where he is up against Drake, Eminem, Kendrick Lamar and Childish Gambino, celebrated hip-hop artist Lecrae came to Barclays Center to give those attending the Brooklyn Nets vs Heat game a first look at his video “Say I Won’t” featuring Andy Mineo.

Brooklyn’s center stage for live sports and entertainment was a fitting venue for Lecrae to premier the video for one of the hits off his seventh studio and first No. 1 album, Anomaly, which debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard’s Top-200 Albums and several other Billboard charts.

As a part of the event, fans were not only able to check out the new video, but also receive t-shirts and free song download cards. One special fan, artist Michael Johnson, won the opportunity to fly to Brooklyn and watch the game with Lecrae and Andy Mineo in the Sony Suite. Michael’s winning 15-second video showed him going into his local police station in Manassas, VA, and showing gratitude to officers, amidst the current climate between police and the community.

As halftime approached, Michael and fellow Reach Records supporters focused their attention on the center screens for the highly anticipated video to be featured. The video delivered a nostalgic nod to the ‘90s and took the audience back to a time when Lecrae says, “Hip-hop used to be fun.” Throughout the video he and Andy are seen as their younger selves, circa 1996, when VHS tapes and Nintendo game cartridges were ample sources of entertainment, watching their 2015 selves dancing, smiling and having a good time. In a few scenes, “Young Lecrae” wore a hoodie that stated “Rappers are in Danger” and if he continues to go at the rate he is now, they should certainly beware.

As a huge Julius Erving fan, LeBron James is thinking of paying homage to his hero by wearing the same kind of short-shorts that Doc used to rock on the court. (LBJ previewed the look back in August.) Per ESPN: “The conversation was ‘Who do I like?’ James said, clarifying his comments. ‘Who were my three? Who were my favorite three of all time?’ No one knows who’s the greatest three players of all time. It’s impossible. No one can say who’s the best three of all time. You’re going to have Jordan there for sure. But after that, you can have Bird, Magic, Kareem, Wilt, Bill Russell, Oscar, Jerry West, Dr. J. You might even throw LeBron in there, maybe.’ […] James, who was two years old when Dr. J retired from the Philadelphia 76ers in 1987, said he became such a huge fan of Erving’s because of his childhood idol, Michael Jordan. ‘As a kid I always heard the name,’ James said. ‘And being a huge Jordan fan, I always knew Jordan looked up to Dr. J. So I was like, ‘Wow, who is Dr. J? If Jordan’s saying he aspired to be like this guy, I want to know who it is.’ And as I got the opportunity to meet him over All-Star weekend and stuff like that, he’s just an unbelievable guy. So you start liking someone like that.’ James switched his jersey number from No. 23 to No. 6 when he joined the Miami Heat in 2010. He has also worn No. 6, the same number Erving wore, while playing for Team USA in the Olympics. ‘Doc had something to do with it,’ James said of the number change. ‘And it coincides with my kids. My youngest son’s birthday is in June, the sixth month, and then LeBron Jr. was born on October 6. So that had a lot to do with it.’ […] ‘I’m just wondering how in the heck they played like that,’ James said of the tiny shorts. ‘I might bring it back, though. I might play in some small shorts this year. Pay my homage to the ’80s, to Dr. J and John Stockton. I don’t think it’s going to catch on, but I’m going to do it one game, maybe opening night. I can’t go all the way up (the legs), though. Athletes today are built a little differently in the legs.'”

You’re never gonna believe this, but Michael Jordan remains as sociopathically competitive as ever. MJ, in a promotional clip for the NBA 2K14 video game that’s being released today, says that in his prime, he’d have beaten LeBron James (and others) in a one-on-one duel. As for beating Kobe Bryant, who considers himself the greatest mano-a-mano player ever? Jordan isn’t so sure. Per the AP: “… Jordan said there’s a long list of players he would’ve liked to have played one-on-one – Jerry West, Elgin Baylor, Julius Erving, Carmelo Anthony, Dwyane Wade, Bryant and James, who dons the cover of this year’s game. ‘I don’t think I would lose,’ Jordan said in the video, before smiling and adding, ‘Other than to Kobe Bryant because he steals all of my moves.’ Jordan, a six-time NBA champion and considered by many the greatest basketball player ever, has had a sponsorship deal with 2K Sports since 2011, when he first appeared on the cover of the popular game. The 50-year-old Jordan, who was a five-time league MVP, also shared the cover in 2012 with Magic Johnson and Larry Bird. This year will be the first time on the cover for James, a four-time league MVP who has led the Miami Heat to back-to-back NBA championships.”

UPDATE: And here’s the clip, in which MJ also speaks on his influences on the court, the rules of trash-talking that he lived by and plenty more:

LeBron James initially left Magic Johnson off his personal Top 3 list of the greatest NBA players of all time. LBJ then stretched the list to four in order to include Magic, but that apparently wasn’t good enough for Johnson. The Hall of Famer responded today on Twitter, stating that despite LeBron having the right to an opinion, Magic’s championships ensure him special consideration in the never-ending G.O.A.T. debate: “Lebron is entitled to his opinion, but I still think that he and I have a similar game and that’s why I LOVE to watch him play! […] NBA Championship rings are all that matter; Jordan 6, Me 5, Bird 3, LeBron 2 and Dr. J 1.”

Asked by Fox Sports to name his top 3 NBA players of all time, LeBron James picked Michael Jordan, Julius Erving and Larry Bird. He felt guilty about leaving Magic Johnson off the list, so LBJ expanded it.

Out of sight, out of mind, the adage goes. Julius “Dr. J” Erving has had a low-key profile since his retirement in 1987. Until recently named a special adviser to the Philadelphia 76ers, Erving has only been a fixture on the judging panel at the Slam Dunk contest during All-Star Weekend (with good reason). But otherwise the next generation of NBA fans haven’t had a chance to see him like his peers, Larry Bird and Magic Johnson, who took on front office and broadcast roles after their playing days. So the feats, contributions and impact Erving brought to the game become more lore and urban legend with each passing season.

Which is why it’s opportune that NBA TV Originals tells Erving’s story in the The Doctor on NBA TV, Monday, June 10. The documentary offers a complete look into the life of the 11-time NBA All-Star, from his childhood in Long Island, New York, up until his very last game with the Philadelphia 76ers. Yet, the content in between both bookends makes for an entertaining and informative history lesson, chronicling his high school and collegiate careers and his entry and ascendance in the American Basketball Association. Surprisingly there is no shortage of archival footage or images, including his trips to the famed Rucker Park in New York City in the 1970s.

The story of the ABA and its eventual merger with the NBA is key to the narrative and Dr. J’s transition to the Philadelphia 76ers, bringing his high-flying flair and slam dunks to the NBA. Something NBA fans had never seen before—but was a signifier of things to come. Erving’s class, professionalism and cool made him a leader on the endorsement front as one of the first African-American pitchmen, yet Erving’s impact clearly went beyond the basketball court. The Doctor does the same, examining the personal tragedies he’s endured, including the losses of his father and brother, both at a young age and the tragic death of his 19-year-old son.

There is no shortage of interviews with family, friends, journalists and a who’s who of NBA players, yet Erving still remains the key storyteller. Whether it’s taking the viewer on a tour of his childhood home, or Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum where he started his professional career with the New York Nets, his voice is very much present. Watching the The Doctor, no question is left unanswered when it comes to the legend of Dr. J; however, when utilizing the principal of a film to tell a story, sometimes the full scope isn’t always shared.

In a recent conference call with media, Erving stated the filmmakers had “carte blanche” to ask whatever they wanted, yet no mentions of Erving’s infidelities are discussed in the film. Is this integral to the story? Yes, only as The Doctor documents the complete on-court career of Dr. J as much as it delves into the off-court life of the man Julius Erving. While his performance on the court was phenomenal, it wasn’t perfect and it would be foolish to hold the man to a similar standard. Yet overlooking his transgressions doesn’t make the story better, just incomplete. Yet it’s a minor misgiving, as The Doctor is a great portrait of a career, life and legacy that stands as a reminder to keep the good doctor’s work, front of mind.

Dr. J spoke to the press before the premiere of his 90-minute documentary (NBATV will air “The Doctor” on June 10), and naturally, they asked Julius Erving for his thoughts on free agent big man Andrew Bynum. Erving, who works as a consultant for the Philadelphia Sixers — and who’s never been a huge Bynum fan — referred to the oft-injured center as “damaged goods.” Per USA Today: “In addition to his playing career, the film addresses three tragedies in Erving’s life, which he speaks publicly about for the first time – the deaths of his father when he was 9 years old, his brother Marvin when he was 19 and his youngest son, Cory, after an automobile accident. ‘From an emotional standpoint, it’s very draining, very taxing to try and recall and recount things that were part of your past that you really just don’t deal with in your current life,’ Erving said. ‘You don’t deal with on a day-to-day basis. … They found some stones to look under and stories to remind me of and question to ask, that were sometimes gut-wrenching. … Some of those things you know and you say, ‘I’m taking to the grave,’ they find a way to flush them out and get them into the documentary. And I’m OK with that now.’ […] His memoirs are due to come out in November. Erving said he enjoys his role as a special consultant to the 76ers ownership group led by Joshua Harris, which is entering its third season and recently hired former Houston Rockets assistant general manager Sam Hinkie as president and GM. He said he believes the owners will turn the 76ers into a championship contender, but cautioned that it will require a degree of shrewdness and common sense to make it happen, alluding to the team’s ill-fated acquisition of Bynum, whose knee injuries prevented the center from playing last season, as a major misstep. ‘When you talk to the Lakers, when you talk to the Celtics, when you talk to – well, those two in particular – the guy on the other end of the phone has his fingers crossed,’ Erving said. ‘So whatever he’s telling you, he’s not telling you the truth. He’s working a deal for him. And what happened to us last year with getting damaged goods hopefully will only happen once. And that’s the extent of that learning curve.'”

NBATV will air a documentary of Julius Erving’s legendary career this summer. The important thing to note here, is that we’ve been promised rare footage of the good doctor. Per the AP: “An upcoming documentary will look at the life and career of Julius Erving, on the 30th anniversary of his only NBA championship. ‘The Doctor’ will air on NBA TV on June 10, between games of the NBA Finals. The 90-minute program features rare footage from his ABA career. Dr. J later came to the NBA and helped the Philadelphia 76ers win the 1983 title. One of basketball’s best-known high flyers, the Hall of Famer reflects on his high school days in New York. He ended up back on Long Island with the New York Nets of the ABA.”

Dr. J is “Reigning On” with Crown Royal. The original Godfather of Dunk, Dr. J, recently launched his new “Reign On” campaign at Black Finn in Houston on All-Star Saturday. Joined by E! News entertainment host Terrence J and hip-hop producer 9th Wonder, Dr. J gave a sneak peek at the new commercials, complete with special behind-the-scenes videos and explanations about what it means to them to “Reign On.” Check out pics from the VIP dinner and the Dr. J’s “Reign On” spot above.

For the second straight year, some of the greatest athletes in the history of sport gathered in Long Island, NY to partake in the MENTOR’s Champions Golf Challenge. This year’s event was put together to honor Bill Russell, who has served as a mentor to countless athletes and young people over the course of his life and raise money for the MENTOR program. Unfortunately, Russell could not attend the event due to personal reasons, so in his place his daughter Karen welcomed and hosted famed guests such as Reggie Jackson, Jim Brown, Julius Erving, Charles Barkley, Clyde Drexler and John Havliceck, amongst others.

Julius Erving and Converse were simply a perfect match in the ‘70s. Each court he stepped on, he subsequently flew off of. Dr. J was a true dunking magician, with the iconic big hair for a top hat and a pair of Pro Leather kicks for a wand.

And almost four decades later, they still look damn good together.

Erving made a special guest appearance at two Converse events held in Philadelphia last weekend, including the intimate Pro Leather retail launch party at the Ubiq store in the center city on Friday night. And I’ll tell you what—Converse puts together a gem of a sneaker and a hell of a party. Even before Dr. J made his red-carpet entrance into the store, the drinks were flowing, the food looked toothsome, and people were rocking out to Young Guru on the turntables upstairs.

The walls honored Erving, Philadelphia and the timelessness of Converse.

Along with the reissued Pro Leather line that was being launched, the renowned brand had many other sneakers and Philly-specific shirts for sale. My favorite: “I (heart) Whiz Wit”, with the Converse symbol for a heart.

Along the middle of the wall downstairs laid a long, colorful mural that caught my interest. Philly is known for its eye-popping murals, especially in the rougher neighborhoods of the city where the huge pieces of art often represent hope. This particular one’s author is Yis “NoseGo” Goodwin, a distinctive Philly-based street artist. Although I’m sure Converse did so in the other stops on the Block Party tour, it celebrated this particular city with class all weekend.

But after all, why wouldn’t Converse specifically honor Philadelphia? One of Converse’s faces over its history has been Julius Erving, and he made his mark both on the brand and this city in the same exact uniform. They’re tied together. And that’s why the Doctor received, and deserved, such a grand, limousine-chauffeured, Oscar-like entrance—he was walking into a place where he was truly loved by two entities: Converse and Philadelphia. And as he finally made his way through all the cameras, handshakes and craziness to the stage upstairs, he briefly and poignantly spoke to the crowd about both:

“I’d like to thank the Ubiq family, our gracious hosts. I’d like to thank Young Gurufor rocking it up here, keeping it smooth, keeping it smooth. It’s good to be back in Philly. It’s such a special place in my heart, Philadelphia. I’m very fortunate in the game of basketball to establish a name for myself, and there were a lot of components to that. Being recruited here by the 76ers in a trade—they put a uniform on me. Changed my number from 32 to 6. So one of my heroes was a guy named Bill Russell, he wore No. 6. And now there’s another guy out there wearing No. 6… We’re still trying to figure out why he’s wearing No. 6. I won’t go no further than that.

(Gotta love it… the crowd laughed.)

“And with my uniform, I had on sneakers. Sneakers when I played. Sneakers when I practiced. Sometimes sneakers when I was out there shoveling snow. And each and every time I had on my sneakers, I had on my Converse. Back in ’76, when they started with the Pro Leathers, I was wearing them, and Larry Bird was wearing them, and Magic Johnson was wearing them. We helped to establish it as a great shoe and a great product. And since then when I was with the 76ers, before many of you were even born, the product has evolved on the court, off the court, in the playgrounds and also on the street. So we’re having a little celebration going on here, for the Pro Leather and the fact that it’s had staying power for so long and it’s been such a powerful force on and off the court. Converse truly is a shoe that has a personality.”

As Stalley made his way to the stage following Erving’s speech, we left the ensuing performance and followed the Hall of Famer to the back room where I would get the chance to sit down, one-on-one, with him for a few minutes. The opportunity of a lifetime with the singular Dr. J.

SLAM: What has Converse meant to you personally over the years?

Julius Erving: Well, you know, before my teenage years, I wore the Canvas Converse religiously. I had a paper route in order to buy my first pair. It might’ve been $5 for a pair. Maybe $7 when I was in high school, but I think my first pair was like $5. There were only two stores in my village that sold ’em over in Hempstead, Long Island. So when I got my first pair of Cons, they were special. And I never really looked back. It’s been a lifetime affair of having Converse shoes on my feet and it looks like it’s never gonna end. And I don’t really want it to end. I think it’s been a great match and you know when you’re consistent in wearing a product, it gives you credibility and gives your product credibility. So I want to represent that.

SLAM: And it should never end. Now I love the original Pro Leathers. I’m usually always for the retro, but the reissue with the new horween leather is damn nice. Which do you prefer? Or do you prefer another Converse shoe?

Dr. J: Well, actually, the Canvas shoes. I’m still always wearing some low-cut Canvas shoes. I’m also wearing some low-cut tennis-version shoes that I used to work out in. Then, of course I have my high-tops, my Pro Leather, which I love. And a version of the ‘weapons’ that I play ball with my kids in. So I’m in the gym maybe two, three times a month with my 13-year-old and my 10-year-old playing full court, half court, whatever. In those instances, I’m always trying to protect my ankles. Otherwise, I’m walking around in my low-cuts.

SLAM: All Converse, all the time.

Dr. J: Oh yeah. People see me in and around Atlanta and walking around with the Cons, they say, “You still rocking those shoes?” I’m like, Damn right.

SLAM: Well I’m gonna be around the stadium this year, so I’m holding you to that Doc!

Dr. J: Oh no doubt. We’ll have plenty of casual nights where I can wear ’em.

SLAM: So, onto the Sixers. You’re going to be a strategic advisor to Adam Aron (GM) and Josh Harris (Owner). Will you have a similar role as World B. Free does or are you actually giving day-to-day advice and consult?

Dr. J: I won’t be as visible as World B. Free because he does community relations. He’s there at every game. My role will be chiming in, mostly over the phone with Adam. Sometimes with Josh. Sometimes meeting with Josh in New York. And then sometimes coming to games and bringing my presence there when I have an agenda.

SLAM: What do you think about the team this year? Losing Lou Will and Elton is big, right?

Dr. J: Team’s making some changes, obviously. It’s definitely big to lose them. You have a chemistry issue. You have a talent issue. But I think they’re relying a lot on the young talent to maybe overachieve. You just don’t know. [Evan] Turner is going to be better. [Spencer] Hawes is gonna have full-time responsibility in the middle without Elton there to hold his hand. Gotta have a guy in that position who can go out and give you 38-42 minutes on certain nights. So we’ll see, but I think the progress has been good. And also, endearing the fans to the team and the stadium gets butts in the seats. And that’s the goal: keep them interested in the team. Keep them interested in the organization. Get some butts in the seats and continue to win games.

SLAM: Exactly, and a big part of the future success depends on the fans staying behind this team. As far as when you were playing, what was your favorite part about the fans?

Dr. J: When I first came over, we knew we were gonna have a poor amount of fans there. There were a lot of games that we didn’t sell out, unless it was against Boston, New York or L.A. or whatever. So that was definitely disappointing, especially when you would go to other cities and sell out other arenas. But when they’re behind you, they’re so passionate. They’re very diverse—they like to be selective in how they spend their entertainment dollar, and they want nothing but the best from their sports teams. So the team needs to be at its best in order to compete and sell out.

SLAM: As far as the NBA goes, what’s your view of the ‘super-team’ era? Has the League changed for better or worse since you played?

Dr. J: The League has gotten better. It’s big. It’s expanded. It’s a bigger business, a bigger corporation. The athletes are better, top to bottom. The stars are still the stars—it’s still a star-driven League. When you get past the stars, I definitely think there are role players who can do amazing things and are better than role players in the past.

SLAM: Do you think the Sixers need a star player, or need to just keep building through the Draft?

Dr. J: I think they have a leader in Iguodala. He really was the one to lead them to the seventh game in the second round of the Playoffs. He’s an Olympian, so maybe he’ll start getting some respect.

SLAM: And last one: I know there’s a lot of fuss that’s been made about this in the media… but Olympics, ’92 vs ’12, who ya got?

Dr. J: Well I take the ’92 team because they were the 11 very best players in the League. But now you have no Dwight Howard, no Derrick Rose, no Dwyane Wade. If you had them, it might be a standoff. But they’re not there, so I gotta give the edge to ’92. They had the very best in the world. Now you have 12 of the top 20, or even 12 of the top 15, but you don’t have thetop12.

NBA stars may get our bills paid, in terms of cover sales, advertisements, etc, but SLAM can never be accused of ignoring our favorite sport’s roots as an outdoor game played with, as filmmaker and narrator Bobbito Garcia says in his new film (made along with Kevin Couliau), “No governing body, no schedules, no coaches or referees present. Only unwritten rules that change from playground to playground.”

The film, Doin’ It In The Park: Pick-Up Basketball, NYC, is a fun and informative 80-minute romp through the plentiful playgrounds of Brooklyn, Bronx, Manhattan, Queens and Staten Island.

The film was created by Garcia, an author/ballplayer/DJ of impeccable credentials when it comes to playground hoops, and Couliau, a Frenchman who’s got serious game as well, not to mention years of experience behind the camera (still and video).

While the film does not have a commercial release date yet, it is being shown all summer long at various community events and film festivals around the city and the globe (visit facebook.com/doinitinthepark/info for a screening schedule; you may remember our coverage of the world premiere). And what makes a movie about pick-up basketball’s roots in NYC such a must-see for hoop heads everywhere?

“With more than 700 playgrounds, New York is unquestionably the epicenter of basketball cutlure and is still influencing players from all around the world,” says Couliau. “I’m French and I’m really passionate about New York basketball. Bobbito and I have traveled to many events and witnessed the impact of New York streetball and we know that whether you are in Japan, South Dakota or Eastern Europe, you will learn something from this movie and have a basketball jones when it ends.”

Topics covered in the beautifully shot and great-sounding movie (besides some great hip-hop tracks, the film’s original score was done by Grammy-winning pianist Eddie Palmieri) include histories of legendary spots like Rucker Park, explanations of the roots of games such as 21, the importance of nicknames and fashion on the playground and pick-up’s role in prison. There are also interviews with some of the greatest players New York has produced, whether they made the NBA or will be forever revered for what they did in the parks.

For more background and visuals on the film, check out the great photos (at the bottom of this post) and their captions, which are exact quotes from Bobbito himself, and SLAM’s extended interview (which did not appear with the rest of the story in SLAM 160) with Couliau below.

SLAM: What is your basketball-playing history?

Kevin Couliau: I started basketball early, at the age of six years old. The game is organized differently in France, you learn basketball in clubs that are independent from the school system. So I was lucky to have a great teacher and a good structure five minutes away from my house in Nantes, on the West coast of France. I would spend all my evenings in the gym, training with my team or shooting around during the women training. As a kid, I was averaging 25+ points per game, always keeping an eye on the stats sheet after the games. At age 16, I was among the top kids of my generation (1982, like Tony Parker) in my hometown. I was picked to study and play in one of our rare specialized sports school but never went there because I was experiencing a parallel life through the world of skateboarding. It had opened my eyes dramatically, to the point where my perception of basketball changed. I never stopped, but reaching a pro-level wasn’t the priority anymore. I spent a lot of time on the playground, working on my handle, bringing my creative skills to the organized game despite some coaches trying to change my game. I’m currently playing amateur, at a good level in France, we are trying to reach “Nationale 3” level which is four steps below PRO A.

SLAM: What is your film history? What else have you done and worked on?

KC: I started film photography in 2004 with a report on my local playground for a French basketball magazine. The next summer, I flew to New York, documented my first trip and encounter with Bobbito on Super 8 film and had my brother edit this short clip called “Harlem Shuffle.” I was mostly a basketball photographer, following the dunking squad “Slam Nation” all over Europe and shooting New York’s streetball for some publications. But, in 2009, I invested in a Canon 5D Mark II and shot a short clip: “Heart & Soul Of New York City” for rap artist Red Café and a German basketball brand. The piece received a tremendous feedback within the basketball and urban communities. It has motivated me to continue. Later on, I got the chance to work as a camera operator on several editions of Jordan Brand’s Quai 54 in Paris, as a director of photography with The New Explorers of Canal+, a documentary series broadcasted on Canal+ TV channel. And more recently on a short clip for The New York Knicks’ “Battle of The Borough” night.

SLAM: How much time did you spend filming Doin’ it in the Park?

KC: We spent 75 days on our bicycles, exploring the city with the video equipment in the backpacks. Our journey started in 2010. I spent the whole summer at Bobbito’s apartment, sleeping on the couch, eating watermelon chunks, riding the bike, playing ball, filming, unloading the footage into the hard drives every night. It was so special because there was no typical day, no routine. During weekdays we would take our bikes and ride in random directions; on the weekend we tried to localize the best runs and head to those famous or secret courts. Some days we would film from 10 a.m. to midnight, and other times we would only spend two hours filming. In 2011, the process was different because we had already started editing the film, so once we were outside, we knew what was missing.

SLAM: How much time did you spend playing pick-up while you were filming?

KC: Our playing time varied depending on the situations we were in. Once we hit a playground our priority was to film the pick-up games, kids or adults. Whoever was on the court we would film and then play with them, or Bobbito would play and I would film. If the park was empty we would put the camera on a tripod and play one-on-one, Horse, 5-2, Taps… so I discovered some shooting games I didn’t know about. The most difficult thing was to alternate pick-up games and filming. Being all sweaty and manipulating the camera afterwards was kind of tricky.

SLAM: How many hours of footage did you compile in total?

KC: Approximately 80 hours of footage on two consecutive summers. And you can add 10 hours of archive material that we have collected from various sources. Bobbito and I have been documenting New York streetball for many years, so we also had some great photos, old VHS or DVD’s with some incredible imagery.

SLAM: Where in France did you grow up?

KC: I grew up in Nantes, on the west coast of France, which is one the biggest areas over there when it comes to basketball.

SLAM: Is there a pick-up basketball culture there?

KC: Yes, we are lucky to have a great playground in a big park called “Parc de Procé.” Six half-courts with different rims heights so you can practice your dunks on lower hoops. Getting there as a kid was tough because the guys would steal your ball, and you needed to earn a rep playing with the few dudes dominating the playground. We mainly played 3-on-3 games, with a lot of picks and passes, Euro-style. And back in the days we were lucky to have chain link nets, so you really felt that gritty vibe. Because we were all highly influenced by New York and US basketball culture, our pick-up culture was exactly the same than a kid from Minnesota would have. We didn’t know anything about games like Taps, 5-2, 21…games that are typically from NYC. So if we were three on a playground, we would leave because playing 21 wasn’t something we had heard of or experienced.

SLAM: How is pick-up basketball there different then in NYC?

KC: In New York City, the game is not only considered a sport, but also as a recreational activity. That’s the big difference. I’ve seen kids playing one-on-one full court in Brooklyn, 70 years old men running with teenagers…you can play with people from all ages and backgrounds and that’s pretty unique. On the individual aspect, New Yorkers are better, more athletic and great ball-handlers, but sharing the ball and moving around is not part of their habits.

The number of playgrounds in New York is just outrageous compared to other cities in the states and the rest of the world. Just imagine if NYC had only one court, West 4th, for example, this is nearly how I grew up. All the players were gathering on the same playground, so the vibe was super friendly, but competitive at the same time. We still have to learn how to integrate playgrounds in our urban landscapes even though France has always been a big streetball place. In the early 90’s guys like Moustapha Sonko were dominating the Parisian playgrounds, but the NBA wasn’t ready yet.

SLAM: Who was your favorite person to interview?

KC: Pee Wee Kirkland, definitely. I had read a few books and articles mentioning the legendary stickman, but I wasn’t really familiar with the character. I never met him personally. So when I saw him at Milbank Center with his 70’s haircut and attitude, I felt like Marty McFly in Back to The Future. But once he started answering, I realized how deep New York basketball culture is and the impact that his generation of players had on our modern basketball. I also really enjoyed filming Kenny Smith and Kenny Anderson. I was a big fan and was really surprised to see how enthusiastic they were while talking about their childhood in Lefrak City.

SLAM: What was your favorite part of filming this movie?

KC: Besides the satisfaction of playing ball everyday, we had our funniest moments with kids. Whatever the neighborhood, our most animated characters were the youth of New York City. Each time we would set-up the tripod and play, those little kids would interact with the camera, comment on the games or get behind it to start filming. In Ron Artest’s Queensbridge, for example, as soon as we arrived, a 10-year-old kid came at us and said, “ I’m sure me and my friend can beat you 2-on-2.” He had the typical socks and slip-ons style we saw the whole summer. We accepted the challenge, won three games in a row until he called his big brother, but that wasn’t a problem for us. The camera was still rolling, some kids were saying “ Bang-Bang” on each of our made shots and we ended up winning everything. Another good memory was in Lefrak City. I didn’t know what to expect—15 kids were playing 21 in slip-ons, which was amazing, but when I saw the Kenny Smith’s and Kenny Anderson’s logos on the playgrounds, I instantly felt like I was in a legendary place. Our poster photo was taken that day.

The Sixers brought the legendary Dr. J back into the fold, by hiring him as an adviser of sorts. Reports the Philly Daily News: “Before Friday’s Game 3 against the Chicago Bulls, the 76ers trotted out legendary Julius Erving to present the ceremonial first ball. At halftime, they gave him a job. Sixers CEO Adam Aron announced that Erving would oversee the newly created position of strategic adviser. Erving put it best as to what that exactly means: Owner Josh Harris ‘called me on various occasions for free. Now he’s going to have to pay me.’ Erving said he would discuss anything and everything with the organization ‘from sponsors to players.’ When pushed further whether he will have a say in trades, Aron interrupted and clarified that this is just a new job to get Erving back to the team for which he played 11 seasons, culminating with an NBA title in 1983. ‘It means being available, obviously being knowledgeable and being able to impart that knowledge at specific times, which for Adam and myself and Josh and myself would pretty much be on demand on request,’ said Erving. Erving said he would maintain his residence in Atlanta but come to Philadelphia when needed.”

Today marks Dr. J’s 62nd birthday and what better way to commemorate than to run a classic SLAM piece featuring the Good Doctor? This piece, featured in SLAM 116, chronicles the career and unbelievable athleticism of Julius Erving; from his ABA career to his incredible Dunk Contest exploits to, finally, his time spent with the 76ers. Senior writer Alan Paul got the chance to talk with those who spent time with Dr. J throughout his illustrious career, and the results are online for the first time ever. Enjoy. —Ed.

No player in any sport has ever defined his league quite the way Julius Erving did for the ABA. Dr. J was the ABA. His presence alone probably kept the league afloat for the last two years of its existence and definitely played a huge role in the NBA’s decision to merge with the ABA in 1976, absorbing four of their rival’s strongest squads, including Doc’s New York Nets.

It was a reflection of not only how great Doc was, but how different, special and dominant he was. Great players come along every year, but true difference makers are much more rare, appearing a few times in each generation. They become milestones and you can measure basketball in terms of their arrival, dividing the sport into pre and post-eras.

Julius Winfield Erving II was one of those players. He changed the way the game is played, forever leaving behind the old floor-bound chess match for a new paradigm that was more athletic and graceful—a mid-air ballet punctuated by violent dunks.

Even while Doc ushered in the modern era of hoops, he was also one of the last creatures of the past epoch. In today’s hype-filled world where the best players risk overexposure before they turn 18, it’s hard to imagine that Dr. J was actually underexposed. His fiercest, most creative, wild and athletic play—the stuff that really revolutionized basketball, merging the playground and the arena into one streamlined game—took place in the final years of the teetering American Basketball Association. The league lacked TV deals and played many games before small crowds in rickety arenas far off the beaten path. Tales of exploits spread the old fashioned way—by word of mouth, with true believers screaming out his praises. Word moved through the hoops world that a new heir to Elgin Baylor and Connie Hawkins was taking skywalking to new heights.

A Long Island native, Doc was not highly recruited out of Roosevelt HS and he enrolled at the University of Massachusetts in 1968. He averaged 26.3 ppg and 20.2 rpg in two varsity seasons before leaving to join the ABA’s Virginia Squires. Doc had a eureka moment in his very first game, when he drove to the rim and was challenged by the Kentucky Colonels’ 7-2 Artis Gilmore and 6-9 Dan Issel.

“I went in between both of them and just hung there and waited for them to come down. Then I dunked on them so hard I fell on my back,” Erving once told the Boston Globe. “Just doing that made me confident to go after anyone, anytime, anywhere, without any fear.” And so he did.

As a rookie, Doc went for 27 ppg and 15 rpg and was Second Team All-League. At the end of that season, eager to get some more shine, Erving decided to switch to the NBA. He signed with the Atlanta Hawks, only to have the case taken to court, where a judge ruled he remained Squires’ property.

Rather than pouting, Doc returned to the ABA and led the league with 31.9 ppg, while still playing in relative obscurity, his exploits visible only to the lucky few who made it to a game. His visibility received a boost after the season when the Squires traded him to the Nets. There he averaged 27.4 ppg, led the team to a title and was named both regular season and playoff MVP. Still, his profile was relatively low; the Nets were at the bottom of the New York sports totem pole and they didn’t sell out a single regular season game.

The entire ABA was on shaky legs by then, but crowds would fill arenas to see Doc play and his open court theatrics could turn even the most rabid bunch against the home team. When he was coaching the Kentucky Colonels, Hubie Brown feared such turncoat cheering so much that all payers were ordered to foul Erving if he got into the open court—even if he were 20 feet from the basket. Those who failed to do so and allowed a dunk were fined $50.

“Historically…the only other player in the same class [as Doc] is Michael Jordan,” broadcaster Steve Jones, an opponent of Erving’s in the ABA said in the book Loose Balls, a history of the ABA. Jones noted that Jordan’s jumper was better than Erving’s. But, he added, “Julius played higher above the rim and he was a far better rebounder than Michael.”

He was running mates with Julius Erving and tore down a few a backboards in his day, but Darryl Dawkins hasn’t had his fill of the dunk life. Chocolate Thunder strives to continue educating us on the artistry and evolution of the slam dunk. “Some of the stuff where the guys are putting the ball between their legs and spinning and some of the timing, where they’re catching it off the bounce is just unbelievable,” Dawkins says. “I was known as a power dunker—someone who wanted to dunk one somebody! Doc could glide to points he wanted to glide. He’d be at thirty thousand feet and you’d be lifting off and losing altitude fast. But some of these guys today can flat out go!”

During All-Star weekend in Orlando, Dawkins, LeBron James and singer J. Cole (who will also perform prior to the event) will serve as judges for the Sprite Slam Dunk Showdown, a contest featuring amateur dunkers from across the land competing for a $10,000 prize. The event will be streamed live on NBA.com and will feature four finalists:

· Zach Jones, 6’0” a.k.a. “Jonesy” – Emerging from Dayton, OH, Jones, 24, has been dunking for six years and won the semifinal competition in Washington D.C.

· Kenny Dobbs, 6’3” a.k.a. “K. Dobbs” – We featured the 26-year-old Dobbs career in the dunk game last summer. Hailing from Phoenix, Ariz., Dobbs is an 11-year dunking veteran who won the semifinal competition in Los Angeles. He was also a finalist at last year’s Sprite Slam Dunk Showdown finals at NBA All-Star 2011.

· Michael Stewart, 6’1” a.k.a. “Airdogg” – Stewart, 28, comes out of the City of Angels and brings an impressive 15 years of dunking experience to the Showdown. He solidified his spot in the Showdown through the online competition by uploading his dunk clip to NBA.com/dunk.

· Kendall Boyd-Hill, 6’1” a.k.a. “Kasper” – From St. Louis, MO, Boyd-Hill, 21, has been dunking since he was 14 years old and is the winner from Denver.

Video content for all of the finalists is available at www.nba.com/dunk and via YouTube.

SLAM: Have you enjoyed being involved with the Sprite Slam Dunk Showdown?

Darryl Dawkins: It’s been unbelievable. We went to eight different cities and selected the winners there. And the guys who couldn’t get there were able to put their dunks online at NBA.com. Ten thousand dollars is a big prize to be fighting for. Anyone who don’t want $10,000 in today’s economy needs to have their head examined. [laughs]

But it’s been fun going to the cities and rubbing elbows with these dunkers. And it’s been a real pleasure—I will continue to do this as long as it’s going. It’s unbelievable some of the stuff they do. They are hype! It’s their last chance to make the big dance and they really get involved. They bring it all out. In a slam dunk competition, you don’t always wait to pull out your best dunk last because you may not end up getting there. You better come out the door funking for Jamaica. Believe me.

SLAM: Are you allowed to have a favorite in this contest?

DD: I’m not. You know why? I want to keep my brain the way it is—free. I like the way it is right now. You’re going to see some stuff you haven’t seen before.

SLAM: You had a very interesting career in the NBA, entering the league straight out of high school in 1975.

DD: It wasn’t very popular then. Moses Malone had done it before me but he went to the ABA first. I was the first guy to go from high school to the NBA and that usually kills people if it’s a question in trivial pursuit. I still own that title along with the most fouls in one season. I’m known for that. For me, the most difficult thing was being away from my family, all of my brothers and sisters. I had to grow up quick. I had to learn how to drive in the snow—I had never even seen snow. World Free was the guy who taught me how to drive in the snow in Philadelphia. We had good guys on the team in Doug Collins, Harvey Catchings, Clyde Lee, Leroy Ellis, Mad Dog Carter—people hardly talk about these players. These guys walked me through it. Not to mention another influential lady named Zelda Spoelstra who grabbed me by the arm and told me, ‘Hey, this is the way it goes.’

SLAM: Did she work for the organization?

DD: She worked for the NBA. She is a fantastic lady. Fantastic!

SLAM: Did you ever consider going to college or were you set on going straight to the NBA?

DD: I did consider going to college. I had a teacher named Julie Brown who prepared me to go to college. I was leaning towards Florida State or Kentucky. Really, it was those two schools. But my dream was to play NBA basketball. My mother and my pastor at that time said, ‘Hey, if you want to try this, we are behind you 100 percent.’ It just worked out for me. I was blessed.

SLAM: You’ve always had such a great personality—someone that is always smiling, has nicknames for his dunks and drops incredible quotes. What were you like as a kid?

DD: I always had a very wild imagination and it has never left me. It is still here. Anybody whose mother calls herself “The Great Harriet” and father was named “The Fantastic Frankie” had to have some imagination. And I was one of 11 kids. I always had a good time playing the game. I believed in entertaining people.

SLAM: Many talk about how great Clyde Frazier’s style was. Do you feel like you’re underrated in that department?

DD: Man, I’m waaaaaay underrated. You know why? Because big guys wear black, blue and gray—that’s the only colors they make. Me, I wear anything from pink to leopard. Growing up, they would tell me they don’t have it in my size, you won’t look good in it and you can’t wear it. I swore to myself if I ever made some money, I would wear whatever I’d want to wear and whatever color. I enjoy it, man. At All-Star, you wear something that nobody would ever wear. I’ve had people come up to me and tell me they couldn’t pull it off, ‘but you can big fella.’ Not only do you gotta wear it, you gotta talk the talk and walk the walk. Some people are going to come up to you and say, ‘Man what you got on! I wouldn’t ever wear that.’ Then you have others that might say, ‘I’m feeling you big boy! I’m feeling you!’ And that’s all you need, that one person to feel you and you keep doing your thing. If somebody got the same thing on that I got on, I’m going home to change it because ain’t nobody wearing what I’m wearing.

SLAM: What does your closet look like?

DD: My closet looks like a bag of skittles. I like to be able to get through my closet with the light off. [laughs]

SLAM: Who are some of the players in the NBA that you enjoy watching today?

DD: I enjoy watching all the young players. Naturally, I enjoy watching Kobe and LeBron and these guys. I also enjoy watching guys like Durant and Westbrook and Derrick Rose. They come out and put it out each night. I enjoy the games. I’m one of those guys that will try to watch four games at one time. Because I like action and I like to see it going on. Basketball is the biggest thing in my life. I do believe in God but I love basketball so much, man. My pastor told me once, ‘I’ve got to preach fast today because the game is on at two o’clock.’ I remember saying, ‘How can you say that?’ And now I find myself being more and more like that. The game makes me feel good.

SLAM: Many NBA fans that grew up watching the game in the 70s and 80s have such great respect for The Doc and really enjoyed what he brought to the game. What can you tell me about him?

DD: Doc lived by example. A lot of guys do a lot of jaw-jacking, gum-bamming, lip-smacking. Doc lived by example. I remember when we were in Philadelphia and he was just getting his groove together, he had just come over to us. He was out-running and out-jumping everyone back then. After practices, he would go out and run around the track. I remember specifically coming over to him one day and saying, ‘Doc, what you running around the track for?’ He said, ‘Man, I’m about four pounds too heavy.” And me, my plate itself would weigh four pounds! Doc could glide further than anybody and was one of the greatest leaders. He didn’t do a lot of talking. It was like, ‘you do what you see me doing and you’ll be doing the right thing.’ I still love Doc to this very day, man.

SLAM: Thank you so much for the time Darryl. It was so much fun speaking with you.

DD: It was my pleasure. I’ll be looking for ya.

The Sprite Slam Dunk Showdown takes place at NBA All-Star Jam Session at the Orange County Convention Center on Friday, Feb. 24, at 4:30 p.m. EST streamed live on NBA.com. Additionally, Sprite is encouraging fans to tune in to Sprite.com immediately following the competition for a big announcement about a new Sprite program featuring several NBA players. For more information visit NBA.com/dunk.

In a classy gesture, the Sixers bought back a whole bunch of stuff from Julius Erving in his wildly successful memorabilia sale. From the AP: “His sneakers are returning to Philadelphia. The Philadelphia 76ers are hopeful Dr. J will come along for the ride. A day after the Sixers swooped in and collected some Julius Erving memorabilia, team CEO Adam Aron said he has reached out to Dr. J about joining the organization in some capacity. ‘We’d like to bring Dr. J back to Philadelphia,’ Aron said Monday. ‘He’s only one of the greatest 76ers of all time. We’d love to see Julius Erving have a connection with the 76ers in some shape or fashion. I don’t know what, exactly.’ The Sixers hope that their purchase of Julius Erving’s memorabilia will help convince the Hall of Famer to re-establish his connection with the franchise. Erving’s retired No. 6 already hangs in the rafters — and soon Philadelphia fans will feel more connected to the Hall of Famer. The team bought 10 lots containing 18 items from Erving’s personal basketball memorabilia collection auction that ended over the weekend. SCP Auctions said more than 140 items from Erving’s collection sold for a record $3.5 million. Among the highlights: His 1974 New York Nets ABA championship ring sold for $460,471, a record price for a sports ring. Neither that ring nor Erving’s 1983 76ers NBA championship landed with the franchise. Aron said all the items the team won were $10,000 or less. Erving is aware the 76ers bought merchandise at the auction. He was not immediately available for comment. Erving told The Associated Press last month he’s never been a ‘hoarder or collector,’ and planned to donate a portion of the auction proceeds to the Salvation Army.”

Everyone was kind of bummed out that Dr. J was going to sell his memorabilia, but after seeing how much Erving’s old stuff fetched, there’s no need to feel bad for the good doctor. Per the Philly Daily News, which lists how much each treasured item went for: “Former Sixers star Julius Erving pulled in a record $3.5 million for 144 items from his personal collection of memorabilia. Doctor J’s treasure trove was part of SCP Auctions’ November auction, which concluded yesterday. According to SCP, Erving’s 1974 New York Nets ABA championship ring netted $460,471, a record for a sports ring. Among other items auctioned by Erving were: – His 1983 76ers championship ring: $244,240. – His 1983 All-Star game MVP trophy: $115,242. – The jersey he wore in his final NBA game, a Game 5 loss to Milwaukee in the first round of the 1987 playoffs: $88,826. – Sixers reversible practice jersey: $5,522. – 1978 All-Star ring: $238,853. – Game ball used to score his 25,000th career point: $92,086. – His graduation tassel from the University of Massachusetts: $640. – His 1968 class ring from Roosevelt (N.Y.) High: $35,801. – Basketball signed by 14 members of the Sixers 1983 championship team: $11,262. – His playbook from the 1976-77 season: $16,980.”

Dr. J finds himself in some hot financial water, and somewhat tragically, he’s decided to auction off much of his memorabilia, including all of his title rings (NBA and ABA.) From the Philly Daily News: “[Julius] Erving, who spent all of his 11 NBA seasons with the Sixers after a stellar career in the ABA, is auctioning a boatload of his personal memorabilia in conjunction with SCP Auctions’ fall offering. Doctor J items to be auctioned, beginning Friday, include: 1983 NBA championship ring (minimum bid $25,000). 1996 NBA 50 greatest player ring ($5,000). 1975-76 MVP trophy from the ABA ($10,000) and 1980-81 MVP trophy from NBA ($20,000). NBA All-Star Game MVP trophies from 1977 and 1983 ($5,000 each). Championship rings from the ABA’s New Jersey Nets from 1974 and 1976 ($20,000 each). The jersey he wore in his final NBA game against Milwaukee in 1987 ($10,000). ‘I am very excited to work with SCP Auctions to offer my person collection of memorabilia to collectors and fans,’ the Basketball Hall of Famer said in a statement. ‘It is my hope that the buyers of these items will derive much pleasure from their ownership. I also hope these treasures initiate much discussion inside and outside of basketball circles that help to preserve my legacy. It pleases me to support my lifelong charity, the Salvation Army, with a portion of the proceeds. My family and I thank all of the fans for their continued support throughout the years.’ The obvious question is, why now? Is the good Doctor in such financial trouble that this is a necessity? Attempts to reach Erving on his cellphone were unsuccessful, but SCP president and CEO David Kohler said that is not the case. ‘It’s not that [financial difficulties]; he was just willing to sell now,’ Kohler said. ‘He was ready to do it. We’ve been talking about this for about a year, and this is going to be the 25th year since his retirement, so he decided it was the right time.'”

Ever since KICKS 3 (summer 2000), each issue of the annual sneaker mag—KICKS 10 not included—has contained two or three new inductions into the KICKS Hall of Fame, where footwear legends past and present are honored. This may not be fresh material for those of you who’ve been copping the mag since before the new millennium hit, but for the younger heads, we’re posting the entire HOF online over the course of the next few weeks. (It’ll be archived under the KICKS tab above.) Enjoy, and don’t forget: KICKS 14 is on sale now! —Ed.

In the mythology of the ABA, there are many gods. Mighty Artis Gilmore smote rivals with a strength that came in equal parts from his 7-2 frame and his majestic afro.

Sleek George Gervin slithered through the league with his icy-cold effectiveness. David Thompson seemed to drop down from the heavens before every game and then spend 48 minutes trying to return there.

And then there was the red-white-and-blue-clad Zeus, one Julius Winfield Erving. Doctor J was more than just the ultimate ABA showman. He was The Bridge, the man who helped keep pro basketball alive during the 1970s, when the game was fast-and-loose in both leagues and even the TV networks didn’t want to watch. Two straight Finals showdowns between the Bullets and Sonics just didn’t fire up the public. Thank goodness fans could tune in and watch Doc perform on Sunday afternoons.

Though there was a brief dalliance with adidas when he played for the New York Nets, Doc was a Converse man from his earliest days with the Virginia Squires, when he favored the old, high-high Chucks. By the mid ’70s he’d graduated to his own brand, just another reason why there was no one above him in the ABA hierarchy. Clyde Frazier had his Puma signature shoe, a sure-fire indication of his high-stylin’ ways, and the Doctor had his. Each defined cool in his league. When the ABA finally took its last breath, following the ’75-76 season, and a merger with the Establishment seemed imminent, there was one grand prize: Erving. And the Sixers got him. In a flat-out desperation move to acquire the cash needed to pay off the Knicks for the right to move into their hood, the Nets sold their only asset. They would be cursed forever after, never again to replicate the championship path they took in ’76. It was sad for Nets fans, but the NBA was a better place for the move.

Not that Dr. J necessarily belonged in Philly. He was a New York boy and played his high school ball at L.I.’s Roosevelt HS. But if the best player on the planet was going to land in big brother’s backyard, he shouldn’t be coming in wearing little bro’s colors. Erving’s move to Philadelphia was evidence that the NBA knew he was a significant piece of the puzzle. Mingling him with one of the League’s franchises showed that the merger was for real—and a damn good idea. And so the curtain went up. Minutes before the Doctor made his first-ever house call in the Spectrum, a Sixers season-ticket holder presented him with a black bag, filled with various medical implements. Then Erving went to work.

His first few years in the League were filled with jaw-dropping, did-you-see-that moments. Even his teammates weren’t always sure what to expect, and the no-look passes which bounced off their hands and heads proved it. Erving ABA-ified the stodgy Association, raising the dunk to an art form and embarking on unscheduled flights into arena stratospheres that brought fans and rivals face-to-feet with those Converse sleds. The Sixers may have been on the move before his arrival, having qualified for the playoffs for the first time in five years the previous season. Erving accelerated the process, lifting the franchise to 50 wins and ultimately the NBA title. In the process, the Sixers bumped off the Celtics, closing Boston’s two-decade run of dominance and injecting much-needed energy into a wheezing League. Philadelphia didn’t win the title in ’77—and wouldn’t capture one with Erving until six years later—but it had become the League’s greatest show by out ABAing the four surviving franchises from the dearly-departed confederation.

By the early ’80s, Magic and Bird had made the scene, and the League had a bi-coastal, made-for-ratings rivalry it could sell to sponsors. Still, Doc wasn’t going anywhere. He waged annual wars with the Lakers and Celtics, lifting Philly to within clear sight of the mountaintop in ’80 and ’81, before finally scaling the summit (with a big assist from former ABA standout Moses Malone) in ’83. By then, Magic and Bird were with him on the Converse team, and their signature models created quite a sensation. And though they achieved legendary status, each owed a sizeable debt to Erving, whose remarkable game had convinced the NBA to celebrate the individual, as well as the franchise.

With or without the real NBA season, NBA 2K12will be in stores October 4th. Built off the success of The Jordan Challenge from 2K11, the game’s developers have added NBA’s Greatest mode, paying tribute to 15 of the most influential and game-defining players in the history of the NBA. Painstakingly re-created, the players, teams, and, even the presentation elements were built with no detail left behind. Above is a slideshow of the 15 players 2K sports chose for its newest game mode. Be sure to check SLAMonline in the coming weeks for more coverage of NBA 2K12.

The new NBA2K won’t just have Mike, Larry and Magic on the cover. 12 other NBA legends will also be featured in the video game, per IGN (via EOB): “2K announced [Wednesday] NBA 2K12’s new game mode, NBA’s Greatest, which allows players to control some of the best basketball players the world has ever seen. Fans can relive 15 historic games that showcase some of the sport’s best. Players announced so far are: Michael Jordan, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, and Julius ‘Dr. J’ Erving, plus 10 other legends to be announced in the coming weeks. The historic games feature the entire team rosters, accurate stadiums, and are presented to look like TV broadcasts from their respective era. To add icing to the cake, the classic teams can be unlocked and played in game against contemporary lineups. Kobe vs. Kareem. Dr. J vs. KG. Jordan vs. Lebron.”

The NBA continues its postseason ad campaign with two new spots; this time they feature Magic Johnson and Julius Erving. They’re not officially out yet, but we got all you basketballheads covered. Enjoy!

Dr. J tells the NY Times that he doesn’t enjoy watching the NBA today a heck of a lot, though he can often be seen doing promo work for the League: “Q. Do you enjoy watching games instead of playing? A. ‘I never sit down and watch a whole game from beginning to end. I always catch parts of games and highlights. I’ve never been a great fan. I’m always a little critical.’ Q. What team do you like to watch? A. ‘I like the Spurs. They used to play with [Tim] Duncan in the post more. But they’ve moved away from it now. They try to spread out. Tony Parker drives the lane and dishes and Manu Ginobili does something. The offense doesn’t go through Duncan as much as it used to.’ Q. What players do you enjoy the most? A. ‘I like watching Kobe, LeBron, Dwyane and Durant play.’ Q. How is the game different today? A. ‘There was more post play when I played. First option was always inside. We went inside out. If inside wasn’t there, you try and impose your will. Then you settle for outside.”

For years, Elgin Baylor and the Clippers front office have been a mystery to many, and with a lawsuit under way, he’s back in the headlines. It’s sometimes forgotten how great of a player he was, but some of that is because of how his post-NBA career has panned out. To get a look into Baylor’s life, check out this story that originally ran in SLAM 27. –Ed.

By Scoop Jackson

Elgin Baylor doesn’t talk much. He’s a man of very few words, very dignified, very proud. To me, he is the most important player in NBA history – that includes Jordan. Understand, though, that these may be the last nice words I’ll write about Mr. Baylor. For this is a protest story, the protest story that I never thought I’d have to do.

The influence of fatherhood on a young man can be monumental – or damaging. My father and I never argued during childhood. I respected him too much for that. Like any shorty, at times I idolized my Pops. Hung onto everything he did, every word he said. On my 11th birthday, my father drove me to Indianapolis to see Julius Erving play against George McGinnis. The New York Nets v. the Indiana Pacers. Like many young brothas in the day. I thought Doc was the greatest show ever. My father had given me the gift of seeing Julie operates in person.

My father was never overly impressed with Doc’s game, something I could never understand. All he kept telling me about was Elgin Baylor, Elgin Baylor, Elgin Baylor. “You see the things Erving is doing?” he would constantly say, “Elgin used to do those same moves 10 years ago.” For a young kid, this was a stretch. I listened to a lot of Richard Pryor back then, so I had an understand of how older people exaggerated. I idolized Muhammad Ali, but they’d tell me about Sugar Ray Robinson. Same thing.

The mythology of Elgin Baylor grew as I got older. Back then there was no videotape to validate. All we had were the words and stories of those we considered the masters. Father. Uncles. Older cousins and neighborhood Paul Reveres. Numbers runners. The pimps, hustlers and playas. The veteran ballplayers who would, out of sympathy, “let” us young’ns run with them when the games had no meaning and money wasn’t on the line. Through their mouths, their actions, their beliefs and their stories, Elgin Baylor’s legend grew. I loved Julius Erving, but in the real world, one I was too young to understand, Elgin Baylor was the most important ball player that was ever going to live.

As playground b-ball history goes, Elgin’s name will be overlooked. He wasn’t one of those heralded street prodigies like Julius or Connie Hawkins, who rules the parks before they took their game indoors. No, while growing up in Washington, DC, Elgin was destined to be the first Harold Carmichael or Mark Bavaro. Football was his forte. Recruited by the University of Idaho as a top receiver, Elgin originally went away to school on a scholarship to put in gridiron work. The story goes that one day it was raining so bad in Idaho that football practice had to be moved inside. Once inside, Baylor decided to play a little basketball to pass the time. Impressed by a game Elgin had casually, even anonymously picked up on DC’s streets, the basketball coach made Elgin’s top priority the university’s basketball program. During his freshman year, Elgin averaged 31.3 points per game.

In NBA at 50: The Book, Elgin remembers: “When I grew up in Washington, DC, the playgrounds were segregated. We didn’t even have a place to play until I was 14 or 15 years old, which is when I started playing ball. They built a park, or part of a park with a basketball court, right around the corner from where I lived. So that’s where our summers were spent. That part of the park was just for blacks. They had a white part of the park where blacks could not participate. They had tennis courts, swimming pools, baseball diamonds, football. And the only thing they had for blacks was the basketball court. We could go to the other side of the park, but we could only go at night. It closed at 9 o’clock, and that’s when we went. So that was it: basketball. And that’s what we spent our entire days doing in the summer.”

Baylor left his private Idaho and took his game public to the University of Seattle. There his game got open. Sorta like crime at Fresno State. Mad Open. He took a mediocre squad to the Final Four, challenged the almighty Adolph Hitler – oh I’m sorry, Adolph Rupp and his Kentucky Wildcats for the crown. U of S lost, but Baylor got so nice during the tournament, he was voted the MVP anyway. The math during the year: 32.5 points, 19 rebounds, second and third in the nation respectively. The NBA calls started coming.

Although Baylor had one year of eligibility left, the Minneaplois Lakers’ owner “promised” E that he’d be the first pick of the ’58 draft. In his own words, Lakers owner Bob Short said, “If Elgin turned me down, I’d have gone out of business.” Baylor came in the League and averaged 24.9 ppg and 15 rpg, earning Rookie-of-the-Year honors, but that was not the big picture. Elgin Baylor had the ability to resuscitate, reinvigorate and recast franchises. He did this not just by performing on the court, but by winning.

The Lakers were a 19-53 team the year before Baylor arrived. In his first season he took them to a 33-39 record and the NBA Finals, although they got swept in the Finals by Bill Russell and the Boston Celtics. Jerry West joining the club the next year helped, and the Lakers’ worth jumped from an unmet $250,000 asking price in ’58 to a $5-million sell in ’65. Was Elgin ever compensated? They signed him to a new, long-term contract — $50,000 per year.

For 13 years, Elgin kept moving the crowd. Not merely scoring and rebounding like a normal human being, Elgin had a game that was elevated. As one reporter wrote: “He never broke the law of gravity, but he was awfully slow at obeying it.”

Elgin Baylor was the originator of the fly game. What Bob Cousy did on the ground, Baylor did in the air. Before Hawkins, Erving, David Thompson or Jordan, there was Elgin. Relying on nothing but “instincts,” he created moves previously unseen. Hanging in the air longer than a time-out, twisting, turning, flipping the ball in the basket from behind the backboard, over his head, all that. While players like Earl Monroe, Pete Maravich and later Magic Johnson had shopping bags full of tricks, Elgin’s bag was Louis Vuitton. Prada. Hermes. His game had so much style, you could profile it.

Elgin also did the dirty work, the other things, the bare necessities that made his teammates shine and his teams great. “Elgin Baylor was the premier quick forward in NBA history,” said Tom Heinsohn, reflecting on Elgin’s game in the NBA at 50 video. “I’m sure you would get an argument about Dr. J, Larry Bird and other players. But not only was he a great offensive player, rebounder, passer – which is evident in the record books – but of all the players that could be compared with Elgin, he was by far the best defender.”

And this is including Jordan. What is funny is how, in places, Baylor’s legacy parallels Michael’s. Neither had witnessed an NBA game until he played in one; both had an enormous amount of God-given talent but never rested on it. Both loved to gamble, had great senses of humor off the court, used the angles on the basketball court better than any players in the history of the game. Both put up record-breaking numbers against the Celtics in the playoffs (Elgin’s 61, Michael’s 63 – but Baylor grabbed 22 rebounds in his same game), both have career highs that are separated by only two points (MJ’s 69, Elgin’s 71). Both also had and have enormous appeal, especially in black communities.

Mention Spud Webb and the first thing likely to cross your mind is that he won the Slam Dunk Contest. But what else do you know about Webb’s career? In SLAM 68, Webb talked about everything else, and of course that unforgettable night that he flew through the sky. –Ed.

The 5-7, 135-pound Webb won the 1986 Dunk Contest with one of the most flawless performances in All-Star history, including two perfect 50s to shut down teammate and favorite Dominique Wilkins in the final round. Right there, as a rookie, his career was forever defined by that single accomplishment. But Spud Webb didn’t make it to the NBA-didn’t last a dozen years there-because he could catch a basketball off the bounce and reverse dunk it with both hands. He made it because he could play. Flat-out. “Coach asked me and Dominique about Spud,” remembers Kevin Willis of Webb’s appearance in camp for the ’85-86 Hawks. “We were like, Hell yeah. He was so fast, so quick, and he could jump. We were known for running, so he was a perfect fit.”

Spud was drafted 87th overall by the Pistons in ’86, but wasn’t even invited to camp. Instead he latched on with the Hawks, who improved by 16 wins his rookie season, came within one win of the Eastern Conference Finals in ’88 and won 50 or more games each of his first four seasons. He also played for Sacramento, Minnesota and Orlando.

But what you remember about Spud was one day-February 8, 1986-in Dallas. What you don’t remember can fill volumes. The Hawks then-playoff record 18 assists against Detroit as a rookie. The years starting at the point for a terrible Sacramento Kings team. The near triple-double-26 points, 9 assists and 9 rebounds-in 1993. Leading the L in free-throw percentage (.934) in ’94-95.

Winning that Dunk Contest was the best thing and worst thing that could’ve happened to Spud Webb. Yes, everyone remembers his name now. He will never be forgotten. But mention Spud to anyone, and the first thing that comes up is the Dunk Contest. Often it’s the only thing. And that’s a damn shame.

SLAM: When you were in high school in Dallas, you only played one year of varsity, right?

WEBB: Yeah. I think the coaches were giving the guys who were seniors the chance to play. It was just a tough school to try to play-and I probably wasn’t good enough anyway. Guys were just so good, you had to wait your turn.

SLAM: And you didn’t get recruited that much.

WEBB: Only one school, North Texas, kind of, but not seriously. It wasn’t any schools that recruited me, and Coach [Jerry] Stone at Midland College asked me to come there. That was the only school that asked me to come.

SLAM: Then your freshman year you won the JuCo national championship.

WEBB: It was something different, you wasn’t accustomed to all the publicity, the TV, the big crowds. Our freshman year we started out with about 15 guys, and by the end of the first semester there was probably about nine of us. [Laughs] It was hard to practice. But we went to the national junior college championship and played the team that won it the last year and beat them by one point, and then the last team we played was undefeated-Miami Dade-and we beat them in double overtime. I don’t think anyone expected us to do anything. We only had like eight, nine guys-one guy got hurt there. We became the Cinderella team, I guess.

SLAM: Did that small roster help your game?

WEBB: I don’t know if it helped or hurt, but it threw me in the fire. You had to play dang near the whole game-one thing, I was in shape. But we were young back then, we didn’t care, didn’t know better anyway.

SLAM: You were dunking then, right?

WEBB: Yes. In high school we would all go up to the gym, all the guys around Dallas, and once we finished playing all the guys started dunking. And I guess it just came naturally as a gift. You’d just try and try-I didn’t start dunking until the summer before my senior year in high school. I probably wasn’t no more than 4-11.

SLAM: After Midland you went to NC State. Was there one game there that stood out?

WEBB: Probably just the first. I mean there was a lot playing in the ACC, but you always remember your first game. And it was on national TV against Houston. That was one of the schools I wanted to go to, bein’ from Texas.

SLAM: So when you finished college, were you thinking NBA at all?

WEBB: Not really. But I said if the opportunity came, I’d go try. I didn’t want to be sitting at home saying I shoulda done that or I shoulda done this. I was lucky enough to go to Atlanta and they were having problems at guard, so I had the opportunity to play.

SLAM: You were drafted by Detroit. Were you watching, or did someone tell you about it?

WEBB: Well you know, you hear things, you might get drafted. But there wasn’t a guy my size playing at the time, so it wasn’t like a team could really take a chance up front. So when Detroit drafted me I knew they were looking at guards, because they drafted Joe Dumars in the first round. But I never went to Detroit.

SLAM: You never even went to rookie camp?

WEBB: Well, probably after they seen Joe play they figured they had the guards that they needed. [Laughs]

SLAM: So you were contacted by Atlanta?

WEBB: They were one of the only teams serious about-and I think the Lakers, it’s been so long-they were talking about drafting me or bringing me to camp. Atlanta was a team that didn’t have a lot of guys to pass the ball with Dominique and all those guys, when I got there and started passing they all fell in love with me.

SLAM: What was playing with Dominique like?

WEBB: Playing with a guy like that, you can’t explain it. I guess that’s why they call him the Human Highlight Film. He used to do things in practice and in the games, you’d call your buddies to tell ’em and say, You won’t believe this ’til you see it. The guy is just unbelievable, man. We used to sit in film watching other teams, and we’d end up watching him. That’s how incredible he was, and we used to look at him like, How did you get that off?

SLAM: Then you beat him in the Dunk Contest.

WEBB: Yeah, I think Dominique-we were like best friends. When you saw Dominique you saw me, when you saw me you saw Dominique, that’s how close we were. And when I first got to Atlanta, I was so intense about what was going on, I never dunked. Because I was busy trying to learn the system. Doc Rivers and them guys always had me out practicing, trying to help me out and be a friend, Johnny Davis. So when the Dunk Contest came, Dominique, Doc, none of those guys, they’d never seen me dunk before. Maybe a one-handed dunk in a game or practice, but they’d never seen the repertoire of dunks. So that was Dominique’s first time seeing it too, and I guess that’s why he was so shocked. He was like, “I can’t believe you did that! You were holding out on me!”

SLAM: Were you working on stuff on your own in the gym after practice?

WEBB: No, those were the dunks I used to do in the summertime when I came home from college, or in high school. And actually the week before that I twisted my ankle and I couldn’t really practice. I didn’t work on any of ’em, I just went out and those were dunks that I had been doing. I just noticed that after I did my first dunk, I can’t make them look that easy. Because people were surprised that you’d dunk that way-you just had to put some imagination into it. I don’t think anybody other than the guys who were in the gym with me in the summertime knew something like that. I think the whole world was surprised.

SLAM: Did you know what you were gonna do in advance, or was it just as you went?

WEBB: That was as I went. That was, What am I gonna do next? I never sit there and say OK, the first round I’m gonna do this dunk-it just came. That last one, man, I thought of that as I was walking out on the floor. I walked out slow tryin’ to think, What am I gonna do? We’d done so many dunks in the gym and tried so many, when I bounced the ball off the floor and hit the ball off the backboard, I didn’t know whether I wanted to dunk the ball backward or forward.

SLAM: So what was it like getting back to the team after winning?

WEBB: Oh, they all gave me a-they gave Dominique basically a hard time. [Laughs] Doc and them, Tree, they ribbed him for a month.

A basketball pioneer, Moses Malone didn’t just make the jump from high school to professional basketball, but he made it look easy. At the time he called it a career, Malone was one of eight players to win multiple MVP awards. In his 21 seasons of professional basketball, Malone saw a lot, and in SLAM 72, he talked about that memorable career. –Ed.

by Alan Paul

As the first guy to go directly from high school to professional basketball, way back in ’74, Moses Malone would be a legendary, landmark figure even if he’d been a failure. Fact is, though, he was one of the greatest big men ever, and he remains the greatest straight-to-pros player ever, at least until Kobe or KG proves otherwise.

Malone was a three-time MVP, a 12-time All-Star and a member of the NBA’s 50 Greatest. In the heart of his career, he amassed an amazing 11 straight seasons averaging better than 20 and 10-including his 31 and 15 run with the Rockets in ’81-82. Counting his two years in the ABA, Moses scored 29,580 points in 21 seasons. He grabbed 17,834 boards, less than only Wilt and Bill Russell. He’s also top five in free throws made and attempted, and in minutes and games played. Still, he’s been somewhat overlooked, perhaps because he wasn’t a larger than life character like Wilt or Shaq, an iconic cultural figure like Kareem or the core of a dynasty like Russell. He also spent little time currying the favor of reporters, seemingly happy to let his game speak for itself, content in his blue-collar image.

“I came up in a small town ghetto and I never did think I’d be a celebrity or famous athlete,” says Malone, retired since ’95 and now living in Houston. “I was just loving to play the game of basketball. And I worked hard at everything I did.”

Malone’s Petersburg (VA) High won 50 straight games and two state titles. He was arguably the most highly recruited basketball player ever and eventually signed with Maryland, only to jump right to the ABA’s Utah Stars. At the time, the NBA prohibited high school students from entering, but the struggling ABA had no such issues. The 6-10, 210-pound manchild averaged 17.2 rpg and 13 rpg in two years in the league before passing through the Buffalo Braves and landing in Houston. He elevated from great to superstar in his fifth pro season, ’78-79, when he put up 24.8 ppg and 17.6 rpg and won his first MVP. By then, he had put on at least 20 pounds and would eventually top 250, though almost until the end of his career, he maintained the quickness and agility that allowed him to be such a dominant rebounder.

Big Mo secured his place in history in ’82-83, when he was traded to Philly and finally led Dr. J to the promised land of a title. That team demolished the League, going 65-17 and only losing one game in the playoffs, and Malone was the MVP of both the regular season and the Finals.

Malone’s final years as a journeyman center did nothing to diminish a great career, one that he says included inventing the alley-oop with John Lucas.

SLAM: You hold the record for offensive rebounds in a season. What was the key to your success there?

MM: To be a great offensive rebounder, you have to think like a defensive rebounder and battle for position while also being in the flow of your offense. And then it’s just being determined. You got to work hard whatever you’re doing and try to be number one and take pride in what you’re doing. You want to be the best at your spot, then you got to work hard, man. A lot of guys don’t work as hard as it gonna take.

SLAM: When did you first start realizing you had the potential to become a great basketball player?

MM: Pretty fast. I had God-given talent. No one taught me this game. I taught myself and I did it because I loved the game. I wasn’t playing for no big money. I was playing for orange juice. I started playing ball when I was 13. Before that, I just wanted to play football and baseball, but I kept growing so I figured it was time for basketball. Then I was on the playground all night. I ain’t never go to parties or nothing. I’d get out of school at three and be out there playing until one in the morning with one streetlight. For real.

SLAM: Is it true that kids on the playground wouldn’t let you play unless you agreed not to enter the lane?

MM: Oh yeah. When I was 15, they changed the playground rules because I was dominating everything and blocking everything that came my way. I had a lot of skills and I played strong, which goes to my friend Babyhead. He was about four years older and he was always picking me for his team and he was always on me to be hard at all times. Every time I went to the hole, he wanted me to dunk. He’d go, “Young fella, I picked you because you’re the best. I know you’re just 15, but you come to play. And you have to bring it every game.”

In high school, my coach had this philosophy, too. There were always two guys checking me at least-sometimes three out of five. I would get real frustrated but he always told me it would make me better in the long run and it really did. I had to get around two guys to score or get a rebound every game my last two years in high school. It made me stronger and tougher.

SLAM: You were the first to go directly from high school to pro ball. Did you ever think it would become so commonplace?

MM: No. They might as well just shut down college ball now [laughs]. Now guys become first-round picks and make all the millions without really proving themselves. Are they gonna go all the way down to elementary school looking for kids who can jump high? The real question is this: Do you have it in your head or heart to be great? To work hard enough to be what you can be? That’s hard to see, but I think the problem is that these so-called scouts don’t know what they’re looking at. When I came out of high school, I was getting 38 points, 16 rebounds and 10 or 12 blocks a game. If they put my numbers up there next to LeBron James, I was doing more damage. Maybe I could have gotten a billion-dollar shoe contract [laughs]. But I don’t fault none of these kids. They got to say yes. If you don’t take it, I’ll put these size-16 shoes in your butt my own self [laughs].

SLAM: What’s the hardest adjustment in going pro so young?

MM: I always was confident, but I had guys looking out for me and that’s real important. Got to have that, not just people looking for a gravy train. Then you’re in trouble, because you’re not man enough to understand what’s going on. I had my agent up in Washington DC, who’s still with me, and my teammates took me under their wings, especially Ron Boone, Gerald Govan, Wali Jones and Roger Brown. They brought me up just like I was their son and they really taught me how to grow to be a man in life and how to prepare yourself for every game. Ron Boone was like a father to me. He saw I needed guidance and he gave it to me, helped me mature as a person. He took me home and his wife cooked me many meals, made me feel comfortable. I’d talk to them about everything in life. One thing for anyone coming in, but especially the kids, you can’t be afraid. You’ve got to be determined that you want to be the best, but you don’t have to talk about it. You see someone talking about how great they are, they ain’t great. When I played, I never talked about what I was gonna do. I just did it.

SLAM: Maybe that’s why you’ve been underrated.

MM: Well, someone’s been misrepresenting me I guess. Because I’m the only high school player who ever got three MVPs, 21 years and the Hall of Fame. I’m everything they thought I shouldn’t have been and wouldn’t be.

SLAM: Who guarded you the toughest?

MM: Artis Gilmore. But then there was Kareem, Bill Walton, Robert Parish, Dave Cowens and even Swen Nater, who no one remembers. Every center in the League played me tough. There was never an easy night so you had to prepare every game, figure out their strong points and weak points and try to take advantage of whatever you could. And you knew they were doing the same thing for you.

SLAM: Almost every team had a good to great center. Where have they all gone?

MM: They all retired now [laughs]. They really only got two or three real centers in the League now: Shaq, Mourning, and now Yao Ming. You can’t be a real center unless you want to play around the basket and bang. Now you got 7-foot guys who want to finesse. Hmmph. They don’t want to put on no hardhats and go to work. I don’t care what people say-it takes a big man to know how to post up and it takes you a good guard to open it up for them. Look how the Spurs won. They had Duncan and Robinson and then one little guy every game: Kerr, Parker, someone. Without that little guy, everyone’s gonna collapse on the big man, but without the big man, that little guy ain’t getting clean looks. Only team I saw win with two small guys was the Bulls with Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen.

SLAM: You set a record by playing 1,212 games without fouling out, yet you were a physical player. How’d you do that?

MM: I was good to the referees [laughs]. I knew them all. They got to call the game and you have to respect them. They make some bad calls, but never embarrass the referee. They got to do the work so once they make a call, let it be.

SLAM: You came to Philly and Dr. J finally got his ring.

MM: That was Dr. J’s team. I was just another piece of the puzzle. It was a great team before I got there. They had Doc, Andrew Toney, one of the best shooters ever, Maurice Cheeks, a great point guard, Bobby Jones coming off the bench as one of the best defenders in the League. And lots of role players like Clint Richardson and Marc Iavaroni.

SLAM: Right-but they were a great team that hadn’t won a title before you got there.

MM: Yeah, yeah. They needed me, but I needed them, too. Doc was one of the greatest players ever, no doubt, and I always thank him for giving me the opportunity to win a championship.

SLAM: At the start of the playoffs, you said you’d win it in “Fo’, fo’, fo’.” Doc said you didn’t mean you’d sweep every series-you were just saying that’s how many wins you needed.

MM: No, no. I wanted a sweep. Three sweeps, actually, and we almost got them. We did fo’, five, fo’. I wanted to start summer early and fo’, fo’, fo’ sounded good to me. I knew with the players we had that we were going to win and I didn’t see no reason to play extra games.

SLAM: You also had some great teams in Houston, going to the Finals once and playing with some great, underrated players. Let’s talk about them, beginning with Calvin Murphy.

MM: Murphy was probably the best pro shooter I played with. Toney’s the only other one in his league. That gave me room to operate, and also Murphy was a tough little guy. Oh yeah!

SLAM: Rick Barry.

MM: Rick Barry could shoot the three and keep you open, too, and also make some great passes. He was determined to win, always came with the focus on victory.

SLAM: John Lucas.

MM: John was a good penetrating guard who’d always go where the action was going. He’ll make you play. Luke wanted to win and he was a very exciting guy. And I’ll tell you something, him and me were the first guys to come up with the alley-oop. We invented that. See, everyone played me real hard up top to keep me from getting the ball, so Luke started tossing it over them so I could leap up and grab it and just put it through. When we first did it, the other teams would scream that it was goaltending, because they thought Luke was shooting. Now it’s become a regular play, but no one knew what it was when we started.

SLAM: You were traded to Philly after winning your second MVP. How could anyone trade a guy who just averaged 31 and 15?

MM: Simple: I was a restricted free agent and they didn’t want to pay the money. Now they’re paying everybody, but it came down to dollars and cents. Hey, I got traded from the Sixers eventually, too. Everybody can get traded, man.

Whether this is the first time you’ve heard of Alex English or the first time in a while, it’s time we show the man some love, if for no other reason than he seldom gets any. Ripped from the pages of SLAM 21, check out Alan Paul’s lengthy Q+A with the explosive scorer.—Ed.

by Alan Paul

The ’80s were a golden age for NBA forwards. Among the high-flying frontcourt players then in their prime were Dr. J, Larry Bird, George Gervin, David Thompson, Bernard King, Adrian Dantley, Walter Davis, Marques Johnson, Dominique Wilkins and Kevin McHale.

Alex English outscored them all.

The smooth, wispy small forward was the decade’s leading scorer, pouring in 19,682 points, mostly for the Denver Nuggets. A second-round pick out of South Carolina, English averaged over 23 ppg for nine straight seasons and was the first player to score 2,000 points a season for eight straight years. He finished his career with 25,613 points. Despite his rail-thin build, the 6-7, 190-pound English scored almost all of his points within 10 feet of the basket. From short- and mid-range, he was deadly, with a unique jumper – arms nearly fully extended above his head, he released the ball with a flick of the wrists – that allowed him to get his shot off with people in his face and draped all over him. He also had a deadly running one-hander.

“As a scorer, he was the best,” English’s Nuggets coach Doug Moe once said. “He was also a great athlete, and that allowed him to run the floor unbelievably well.”

Running the floor was certainly a key to English’s success; Moe’s Nuggets team ran like few others. They set an all-time record by averaging 126.5 points per game during the ’81-82 season, during which they also became the only team in league history to score over 100 in every game for an entire season. The Nuggets’ run-and-stun style minimized English’s accomplishments in the minds of some observers; then the seventh-leading scorer in league history (his total has since been surpassed by Michael Jordan and Dominique Wilkins), he was left off the NBA’s 50 Greatest list, a dis whose blow was softened when he was subsequently elected to the Hall of Fame immediately upon his eligibility.

It’s worth noting that for all those points, English was not a one-dimensional gunner: he led the team four times in offensive rebounds, once in steals, twice in assists and four straight years in blocked shots. In short, he was a player.

“He was a quiet assassin,” says Mike Evans, the Nuggets director of personnel and a teammate from ’83 to ’88. “Alex was all business when it came time to play basketball. He took it very seriously; he was very focused all the time: a top-notch competitor with quiet reserve.”

SLAM: Why do you think you were left off the NBA’s 50 Greatest list?

ALEX ENGLISH: I don’t know. Perhaps they thought they had too many guys from my era on there, because they also overlooked Bernard King, Bob McAdoo and Adrian Dantley, all of whom I thought were amongst the greatest.

SLAM: Did having such good company make you feel any better?

ENGLISH: Yes, it did. Bernard called and offered his condolences, [laughs] and said that he didn’t think it was right for me to be left off, and I said the same to him. But what really eased some of the hut was getting elected to the Hall of Fame last spring, the first time I was eligible, which was an honor.

SLAM: Did you see SLAM‘s 50 Greatest list [featuring English]?

ENGLISH: Thank you! I sure did, and I appreciate it, and I’m sure the other guys do too. I think that was more of a true list, done without political considerations, based on the only true question: Who could play the best?

SLAM: Do you feel you’ve been underrated?

ENGLISH: To a certain extent. We didn’t get much media attention in Denver, even though we won. The Nuggets were in the playoffs eight years in a row, and in the Western Conference Finals in ’85. We were sort of like Utah before they got to the Finals this year, because you tend to get overlooked out west. They say we play an uptempo brand of basketball, but it is basketball all the same.

SLAM: That brings up another point: a lot of people have downplayed your numbers, because you played in such a wide-open system under Doug Moe.

ENGLISH: You could say that about a lot of folks. But the fact is, what I did was done, and it was done against some of the best to ever play the game. Every night, I had the best defender on the floor in my face. And it wasn’t just points with me. I’m also in the top-50 assist leaders of all time, and there’s not many forwards on that list.

And early in my career, we would play almost every night – four games in five days, three games in three days. They don’t do that anymore, because it wore you out – especially if you were a small forward, because every night you had to guard an unbelievable player. You could go play Greg Ballard one night, who would shoot the jumper on you, then go play Adrian Dantley, who’d beat you up inside the next night, and the following night you might have to play Bernard King, who’d run over you. Then you’d get a night off and go play Marques Johnson and Walter Davis, get another night off and go play Larry Bird and Kevin McHale, then fly down to Atlanta and chase Dominique Wilkins around the court. It wasn’t easy.

SLAM: Yeah, but playing in coach Doug Moe’s system must have been a lot of fun.

ENGLISH: It really was. I’m sure a lot of people wish they could play that way today. To be honest, I think the type of basketball they play now is a bit boring. They’ve taken the individual’s game away, and I think that’s why they need to move back the three-point shot – to open up the lane and bring back some more individual play. When they moved the line up, the court got smaller and teams started packing down into the lane and getting away with playing a lot more zone. Let ’em run!

SLAM: You were always very thin, and partly because of that you had doubters at every level; they said you wouldn’t have the stamina or strength to stick around. Did that impact you at all?

ENGLISH: Yes. It made me work harder. All the doubters were just fuel for the fire. I worked very hard at the game. Almost all of my stuff came within 10 feet of the basket. Everyone knew that if I was down low, I was gonna get the ball, turn around and shoot a jump shot. But it was something that they didn’t know how to stop, because of the technique I’d mastered working really hard for years. And if I missed the shot, I’d be following it, looking for the putback. I would do whatever it took to put points on the board.

SLAM: You had one of the most distinctive jumpers of all time. How did you develop that?

ENGLISH: Believe it or not, I learned that in ninth grade from my principal. My shot was getting blocked a bit, and he showed me a way to improve it. I just started working on going up as high as I could and releasing the shot with the wrist. It made it a hard shot to block. Then I also started working on other things to prevent being blocked, like a running one-hander. I worked very hard to develop that shot and used it a lot. Larry Bird uses that shot a lot, too, but you don’t see it much anymore.

SLAM: There are a lot of great shots you don’t see much anymore. People used to have more individual trademarks, like Jamaal Wilkes’ funky jumper…

ENGLISH: Gervin’s finger roll, Kareem’s skyhook…even Bernard King’s jumper was kind of strange. There were a lot of unique things about out era. George Johnson and Rick Barry had the underhand free throws, which, by the way, Shaq should look into. I’m sure Rick would be glad to teach him.

SLAM: Well, why don’t more people try to copy some of those styles that worked so well?

ENGLISH: The game is not as pure as it used to be. Guys come into the league so young that they don’t learn the basic things that may help them later on. They don’t get the fundamentals that coaches can give in college. You might be able to score after a year or two, but there’s a lot more to learn. There’s a maturation process involved in going to college. And like I said, I worked really hard on doing the little things, like following up my shot, which you don’t see a lot of young people doing today. Basic, simple things like that get lost, but they bring so much to you and your team. A lot of my points came from offensive rebounds.

Artis Gilmore finished with over 20,000 points and 15,000 rebounds in his career but has yet to be enshrined in Springfield, even 22 years after his final NBA game. In SLAM 15, one of basketball’s greatest big men talked about his career and that wait for the Hall of Fame. — Ed.

by Quin Godwin

Artis Gilmore. The A-Train. An MVP who remains MIA. He always let his work on the court do the talking, so he never really got his.

Over his 17-year career, Artis stacked up over 20,000 points, 15,000 rees. Only Wilt, Kareem, Elvin Hayes, Moses and Artis have done that. Of the four eligible for the Hall of Fame, three were first-ballot selections. Moses is a lock. No. 53 is the odd man out.

He wasn’t Jabbar. No movie cameos. No L.A. Laker “Showtime” runs. Just 20-20s every night out. A locomotive. Hard years spent in San Antone and Chi, a working man in working towns.

No, he wasn’t Jabbar. No skyhook, no finesse. Hell, finesse wasm’t in his vocabulary. He was raw strength. In the ’70s, he picked up 225-pound, All-Pro Steeler linebacker Jack Ham with one hand. Before Fletch, he was 7-2 ½, 7-9 with the ‘fro. Big muttonchops and a bad-ass goatee. Seven feet of Dolomite, 240 pounds of intimidation, Gilmore was cut from the cloth of Wilt. A 32-inch waist, 27-inch things. The NBA’s all-time leader in field-goal percentage (.599), Artis took it to the rack, and he took it strong. No one stepped in front of the A-Train. Gilmore was an 11-time All-Star. He was the ABA’s MVP and Rookie of the Year in ’72, and the MVP of the ’75 ABA Finals. Artis Gilmore was the NBA’s first pick in the ABA dispersal draft – not Moses. Those in the know…knew. The A-Train was legit.

SLAM: 24,041 points, 16,330 rebounds. Why aren’t you in the Hall of Fame?

ARTIS GILMORE: I guess there’s a reason for it. I don’t know it. It’s been four years now. Obviously, votes are cast, and I can’t do anything further. I refuse to agonize over it. I think some individuals are more visible than others. I always kept out of the limelight, but look at [Bill] Walton [6,000 points. 4,000 rees]; he’s done an amazing job of marketing himself: NBC, the Olympics, the Reebok commercials with Wilt, Jabbar and Bill [Russell]. It reminds me of a song Gladys Knight used to sing, “It Should’ve Been Me” – well, it should’ve. But, I’m not one to be bitter; I did a lot on the court, and I prefer to leave it there. A lot of records I set, still have yet to be broken. At [Jacksonville U], I averaged 20-20 for my career and led us to the Final Four. I’d like to think I’d get in on merit alone.

SLAM: Rick Barry mentioned the taint of playing in the ABA. You, along with Dr. J, were the ABA. Do you think it’s had an affect on your image?

AG: Without a doubt. We [ABAers] were submerged by the NBA. In NBA cities, like Chicago and Detroit, the NBA had a vice grip on the press. They didn’t even run ABA box scores, except for in New York, due to the Nets. Now, if a guy in Yugoslavia wants to watch the CBA on TV, he can, via a satellite service. In the ’70s with just three networks, we were lucky to get any TV time at all. I think our first year, CBS came in and did three playoff games. Now, stations are itching for stuff.

It was like the ABA was a virus. No one wanted to get near us. Guys like me, James Silas and Dan [Issel] weren’t household names like a Jabbar or Wilt. Even after going to Chicago, I was referred to as Ernie Gilmore in a news story. Even NBA players themselves, I felt, held some resentment towards us. I think they thought of the ABA as double-A ball or something. It was a joke. There was no doubt, after the merger in ’76, as to our talent. And, in time, I think the NBA guys acknowledged it.

SLAM: Weren’t you even ID’d at a nightclub in Chicago?

AG: It wasn’t so much that I was ID’d. I think I showed them a few IDs, but they still wouldn’t let me and Mickey Johnson into the club. It was a racial situation. I don’t think they realized that I was Artis Gilmore of the Chicago Bulls – I was just a black guy. Mickey was taking me out on the town, showing me the city, and we just ended up on Rush Street. It was the night I had signed with the Bulls after the merger. I didn’t make a fuss about it, but somehow the press got wind of it. I was a sent a letter of apology by the club, but the milk was split. But no, I wasn’t even recognized in the city I’d just signed to play in.

SLAM: Do you think winning an NBA title would’ve earned your more respect?

AG: Yes. But basketball is a game of five, not one. I didn’t get Magic to play with in Chicago. I didn’t get Oscar, Silk, Worthy. It’s tough to win without a supporting cast. In ’75 in the ABA, when I did have it with Dan [Issel], I won. In Chicago, it was a joke.

To give you an idea of how it was – and this is not meant as a slap in the face – Mickey Johnson was a walk-on who stuck. Wilbur Holland we got off waivers; we gave him a shot because we were in dire straits with our guards. He stuck. And me and those two were our yearly offerings for the All-Star game. So it was a tough situation to win games. A title? I don’t think so.

SLAM: In ’76, at the ABA’s first and only slam dunk contest, David Thompson said you tried to rip the rim off. Did you?

AG: I didn’t know what I was doing. I was the first to dunk in the first dunk contest. So I went with what I knew best. Power. See, I had great leaping ability for a guy my size, and I got way up. By the time I went to dunk, my entire arm was down in the rim. I was just trying to get the fans into it. I also did a two-ball dunk, with a ball in each hand, and a reverse one-hand jam.

But, a dunk contest is a showcase for the 6-3, 6-4 guys. Seven-footers don’t belong in it. In ’86, at my last All-Star event, Spud Webb won it over Wilkins, and I still say ‘Nique won it. Crowds love the underdog, the short guy. I still think the craziest, most breathtaking dunker I’ve ever seen was a big guy: Larry Nance. He revolutionized my 2-ball dunk, doing it in a delay motion. It was a ballet with umphhh!

SLAM: How ’bout Dr. J? You came into the ABA together in ’71 and the NBA together in ’76. Was there anyone like him?

AG: Are you kidding? Julius was Mr. Entertainment. Mr. ABA. Mr. NBA. No doubt. If he was lacing ’em up, there was going to be a show. He was worth any price of admission. Any dunk? Ouch!

See, most guys come in straight with a dunk. So, as a center, I could gauge it. I was great at timing a dunk and blocking it. But Julius, he was able to move the basketball in mid-air, change directions and get to the basket – chest-to-chest with me – and dunk it. No one else did it. Julius, he did it a lot.

The thing with him was that, if he did dunk it, fans went psycho. Sixers fans. Our fans. Kids. Old ladies. Why not? He was the Doctor. It got so ridiculous that [Colonels coach] Hubie Brown had a $50-Dr. J rule. If Julius was fast-breaking in the open court, we were to lay a foul. Don’t hurt him, just don’t let him dunk, or its $50. In the ’70s, in Louisville, it was an awful lot of money.

SLAM: Was blocking shots your signature?

AG: It was like this – guys thought they could bring the ball in and score, and I thought that I could stop them. I felt a great sense of confidence in the paint on defense; it was my comfort zone. I took a great deal of pride in swatting a guy’s shot out of the sky. I felt I could block anything.

Anything, that is, except Jabbar’s skyhook. With Jabbar it was a different set of rules. He’d get the ball in rhythm, go to the skyhook, and it was money. So the one thing that I felt I did really well was distort his rhythm and not let him get into it. I’d frustrate him. But block the skyhook? I never did, in 12 years in the NBA. I wasn’t alone.

SLAM: Do you remember anyone ever blocking a shot of yours?

AG: There weren’t many. But the sole time I went to war against Wilt in an ABA-NBA All-Star game, he did it. Hubie told me, “Artis, he’s going to go for it. Wilt loves blocks. I thought, yeah, yeah. Then, whack! He got it. I thought I did a good job of getting up off the floor, but he got it.

SLAM: What was Maurice Lucas [6-9, 215] thinking when he got into it with you?

AG: I was getting sick of his bodying me in the paint, and I got hot. I took a swing at him, missed, and then continued after him, chasing him on the floor and eventually backing him into a corner on the court. The next thing I knew, I was coming to after being KO’ed. I don’t know if I ran into a right or a left, but it sent me to my knees. I was out for a while. I heard that he closed his eyes and took a wild swing at my chin. Well, it was on target. I don’t think too many guys messed with Maurice after that.

SLAM: Was Jabbar the greatest big man you ever played against?

AG: It’s weird. Emotion plays a big part in basketball, so, on any given night, there were guys who would just play tough – Bill Walton, Bob Lanier, Dave Cowens. But on a night-in, night-out basis, Jabbar was the greatest. The skyhook. If it was all he’d had to go to, it’d have been enough. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. Jabbar, in the blocks, was like a torture chamber.

Cowens was tough too. You knew you were going to be in a dogfight with him. He was a good perimeter shooter, so it forced the opposing center to come out. Then, once you came out, he just juked by you and took it to the basket. It made it a 48-minute grind. He had an 18-foot jumpshot, and if you let him take it, he’d kill you with it. He worked at it to really make it a part of his game.

SLAM: As a kid from Chipley, FL, did you ever imagine you’d play 17 years in the pros and sign a $4.5 million dollar contract?

AG: Not in my wildest dreams. My main objective was to graduate from school, which I did, and be an example to my younger brothers and sisters. Later, as I was setting records at JU, I began to think, “Hey, I got a shot at the pros,” but the league didn’t have as many teams back then and the pressure wasn’t as great as it is now. So, no, it wasn’t a pervading thought of mine.

As a kid, when my feet grew beyond size 13, the last size the stores carried, I had to go barefoot. To earn money, I’d pick watermelons for $5 a day, so $4.5 million wasn’t even within my realm of thinking. This is why I’m not bitter over the lack of recognition of the Hall of Fame, because God’s blessed me so much already.

SLAM: About those Nike TV commercials with Chris Webber that were shot in the barber shop in San Antonio. How did Ice [George Gervin] get all those lines, and you not get any?

AG: Neither one of us were written into the script. Ice just had a way of drawing the spotlight to him. That’s just Ice.

Need any proof of how great David Thompson was? Just ask Michael Jordan who his favorite player growing up was. His Airness was one of many who looked up to Thompson, who was interviewed about his playing days in SLAM 13. — Ed.

by Quin Godwin

Ten feet. The rim. To guards in the ’60s and early ’70s it might as well’ve been the moon. Unattainable. It was a domain restricted to the giants. A league of Goliaths. Wilt. Lew. Artis. But there was a defiant one. DT. David Thompson. Neil Armstrong in high-tops. #33. Not satisfied in reaching the rim, he gave us a glimpse of basketball’s future. Above the rim.

Before the ’80s and MJ’s “Be Like Mike” advertising blitz, kids wanted to be, tried to be like DT. A 6-3 off guard with Earl Campbell-size thighs, DT was the original high-wire act. An enigma. A guard with explosive dunking power. DT. So unthinkable, they had to put a tape measure to him to verify his alien abilities. Forty-eight inches. Four feet of vertical. The tale of the tape.

In ’75 he became the NBA’s first No. 1 overall pick to opt for the ABA. DT was, in effect, forcing the NBA’s to merge with the “rebel” league. How could the NBA consider itself legit without callin’ the game’s new pioneer, its most exciting new turk, its own? Dilemma. A year later, four teams, including Thompson’s Denver Nuggets, joined the NBA. Coincidence? Yeah, right.

He was the first high-riser with signature kicks. The sole MVP of both an ABA and an NBA All-Star Game. The only NBAer, besides Wilt, to drop more than 70 points (73) in a game. DT, like Doc before and Mike after, changed the game.

SLAM: Was the ABA’s first dunk contest in ’76 a two-man affair – you versus Doc?

DT: Well, Ice [George Gervin], Artis [Gilmore] ‘n’ Larry Kenon were in it too, but I think everyone knew it’d come down to me ‘n’ Julius. I mean, Gervin did a nice windmill dunk but he missed a few, and Artis ’bout tore the rim off…his thing was power. Actually, I think he was trying to make the ball stick to the floor. Still, me and Dr. J were the favorites. But the thing about that dunk contest was that if you had a miss, that was it. There was no margin for error. It was still cool, though. I went next to last. I did a windmill – tappin’ it off the backboard. I did a 360, which no one had seen to that point, so it was real fresh ‘n’ new.

SLAM: Did you think it was over?

DT: Yeah, I thought I’d won. Marvin Barnes [the St. Louis Spirits’ eccentric star] and I was a mile high, but then Maurice Lucas, remembering that we were in Denver, said, “No, we’re a mile high. David’s two miles high.”

But the guy I was sweatin’ the whole time was Doc. It was eerie. Julius was just standing at the foul line, staring at the rim. Then, he went to the opposite end of the court, holdin’ the red, white ‘n’ blue ball in his hand like it was a sotball, and he took off runnin’ – his afro blowing in the wind – leapt from the free-throw line ‘n’ stuck it. Game over. It was a risky dunk, though. It’s an easy one to miss. My favorite, however was his “Iron Cross”, where he went left baseline, spread his arms like he was flying and then dunked the ball behind him without looking at the rim. It had more flair to it. The free-throw line jam was nice, but it was just a basic dunk.

SLAM: Didn’t you have a few tricks left in your bag that you didn’t go to?

DT: Yeah. I was going to go to my “Rock the Cradle” dunk, where I cup the ball in the crook of my left elbow, go up over the rim ‘n’ knock it through the rim with my right fist, but it was too big of a risk. I’d done the free-throw line dunk before, too, but I’ve got caught on the front of the rim like in the Grant Hill/Sprite TV commercials. So I left that one to Doc. See, Julius’ hands, which were bigger than Artis’ [who was 7-2], let him extend a lot further – plus he’s 6-7 and can jump out of the gym. So he had an edge.

SLAM: And Doc got $1,000 and a stereo system for winning?

DT: I guess. I got MVP in the All-Star Game, and I got a console TV…a Zenith. It had a record player in it, too. Come to think of it, I should’ve kept it.

SLAM: What do you think of today’s NBA dunk contests?

DT: I’d like to see guys like Mike, Grant Hill and Scottie out there, but I guess they don’t want to get hurt. I understand. But also, with the dunk there’s only so many things you can do. Nothin’ new’s been done lately. Look at Brent Barry. He won it in ’96 with the same dunk Dr. J did 20 years ago.

SLAM: Give it up. When did we start takin’ rulers to a guy’s leaping ability?

DT: It began in ’71. At the time, I was 17. I was at NC State, and the Guinness Book of World Records came callin’. I guess they’d been hearing ’bout me. Anyway, I was tested, and it was 42 inches, a world record. Later I got it up to 48.

SLAM: Were the coins-off-the-backboard stories fact or fiction?

DT: Both. I could get a quarter, but the part about me makin’ change – leaving two dimes and a nickel – it was a rumor.

SLAM: Okay – why, as the No. 1 pick in ’75, did you pass on the NBA?

DT: It was a gunslinger mentality. At the time, all the talent, I felt, was in the ABA. You know – Doc, Ice, James Silas. And I wanted to go against the best. Also, Monte Towe, my best friend at NC State, was with the Nuggets, as were others I knew – Larry Brown, Bobby Jones, [owner] Carl Scheer. So it was a comfort zone, and that’s 50% of the transition to the pros. Plus, I knew an ABA-NBA merger was on the horizon. My contract had an opt out after three years, too. So if I’d wanted to go to the NBA after three, I could’ve.

It worked out great for me and the ABA, after all. The ABA got a lot of attention after getting the NBA’s two top draft picks in me ‘n’ Marvin Webster. And the All-Star game also got a lot of publicity, as did the ABA Finals, with us [the Nuggets] versus Doc ‘n’ the Nets. Doc was at his best, and although we didn’t have a TV contract, HBO picked it up ‘n’ a lot of folks saw it. I think it was the straw that broke the NBA’s back.

SLAM: Ice referred to you as “the Giant Killer.” Was that something you set out to do, dunking on 7-footers?

DT: Yes. No doubt. I used to try ‘n’ catch the big guys up under the basket, napping a little bit – Kareem, Artis. For a guy my size [DT claims 6-3, the NBA Encyclopedia has him at 6-4 1/2, Dennis Johnson swears he’s only 6-2.] to serve a facial to a 7-footer, really gets your teammates and the crowd into it. So I liked to do it whenever I could. You had to pick your spots, though. Guys like Jabbar don’t get shot-blockin’ reps for nothing.

SLAM: Didn’t you serve Walton once?

DT: Oh, yeah. I got Bill. I was playin’ forward at the time. I had Bob Gross, who was a defensive specialist, guarding me, but I just gave him an easy fake to the right and a hard one to the left, and it left me a lane straight to the basket. As I went in, Walton was waitin’ at the rim, so I just cupped the ball, ’cause I can’t palm it, and I hook-dunked it over him…shattering the backboard, sending glass flying everywhere. It got all in my hair, ’cause I had a big ‘fro at the time.

SLAM: Speakin’ of ‘fros, who had the biggest, nicest one in the league?

DT: Easy. Darnell “Dr. Dunk” Hillman. Artis had a big one, too. It made him close to 7-8, with the afro, plus he had those crazy mutton chops with it. It was intimidating.

DT: Just one? Well, one time Marvin missed his flight to Denver, so he chartered a flight, but he still didn’t get to the game ’til halftime. When he walked into the arena, he was wearing a full-length mink coat with his uniform underneath it. He shed his coat, and lit us for 40-plus points in the second half. It was ridiculous.

SLAM: Even after the merger, was there still an ABA vs. NBA thing goin’ on?

DT: You got it. It was us against them. We [ABAers] were on a mission to earn respect. And we did it. Ten of the 24 All-Stars in ’77 were ABA vets, and Dr. J went on to be one of the greatest players in NBA history, if not, THE greatest. Also, the Nuggets won the Midwest Division in our first year in the league. See, we still felt we were getting’ the short end of the stick – not getting a draft pick in the ’76 NBA Draft, not gettin’ the calls in the officiating. One thing we [the Nuggets] did that didn’t help matters, that didn’t sit right with the NBA, was our warming up before games with the red, white ‘n’ blue ABA ball. Larry [Brown] was insistent on us remembering where we came from. ‘Cause I guess guys who were in the ABA in the late ’60s and early ’70s had it tough. It gave us a sense of pride.

SLAM: Fast-forward to April 9, ’78. Who was guarding you on the night you got 73 points vs. Detroit in going after Ice’s scoring title?

DT: Nobody. No, I’m jokin’. There was a lot of guys. M.L. Carr was one… Jim Price, Chris Ford, Al Skinner, a lot of today’s coaches. I guess I sent ’em into coaching.

Actually, I wasn’t going to play. I’d been going 40 minutes a game for a while; I was dead. But Larry Brown wanted me to get the title, so he told the guys to get me the ball. Often. Guess what? I came out smokin’. I hit 20 of my first 21 shots. I had 32 points at the end of the first quarter, and 53 at the half. The announcer was sayin’ I was on track to top Wilt’s 100 point game, but in the second half I got tired. In hindsight, I guess I should’ve shot more, but 73 is a lot. It’s enough. It’s tiring, especially for a 6-3 two-guard without the three-point shot. I was doin’ it on drives to the basket, three-point plays, alley-oops, dunks. After a while, Detroit’s defenders just started hanging on me.

It was ironic, too, ’cause afterwards M.L. said, “You got it, DT, ain’t no way Ice’ll get 58.” A few hours later Ice comes back with 53 in the first half, too, ending with 63 in the game. I’d broken Wilt’s record for most points in a quarter with 32. It was a short-lived record. Ice had 33 in the second period that night.

SLAM: But still, 73’s a lot. Was it the kicks, the shoes?

DT: You mean the DT’s?

SLAM: Yeah. Wasn’t it the first signature basketball shoe?

DT: I think so. It was made by a company called Superpro out of Baltimore. They had a ‘DT’ basketball shoe and a ‘JC’ [Jimmy Connors] tennis shoe.

SLAM: Would you wear ’em now?

DT: Nah. No way. Back in the day they didn’t have much cushion. You know, even if you look at the first Air Jordans, they didn’t have much. I bet that’s why guys are playin’ a lot longer now, ’cause of the better equipment. But, the DT’s were a’ight. They were white leather hi-tops with a red and blue stripe ’round the ankle. [Ed’s note: Scoop owned a pair.]

SLAM: So if it’s not the shoe’s, what was it?

DT: Legs, baby. In ’75, when I was in Denver, the Nuggets took me to the NFL’s Denver Broncos training facility ‘n’ tested my leg strength against a 390-pound offensive lineman. I won. To this day, while workin’ out with the Hornets – rehabilitating my knee – I test stronger in the legs than LJ, Rice, all the guys on the team.

SLAM: I also heard a rumor that the Nuggets took you to the Air Force’s Academy, in Colorado Springs, to test your vision.

DT: Oh, yeah. I forgot ’bout that. I went ‘n’ had my depth perception tested, which is obviously critical in shooting. Anyhow, it said that I had the highest test result in the history of the academy.

SLAM: Straight. Did you have a chance to be the greatest basketball player ever?

DT: I think so.

SLAM: How did it all take a U-turn in the late ’70s-early ’80s?

DT: It’s like this. In the ’70s, we were socializing too much. A lot of guys were goin’ to the clubs, doin’ cocaine. We didn’t realize the dangers of drug ‘n’ alcohol abuse. It was before celebrities began dyin’ from it. Len Bias. John Belushi. It was a misconception that cocaine was the elite drug. The rich man’s drug. It was thought to be safe, nonaddictive ‘n’ undetectable if used in the right amounts. No one had an inkling of an idea as to how cunning, how powerful it’s addiction is.

It wasn’t just a DT thing. It was an NBA thing. John Lucas. Ice. Walter Davis. A lot of guys were battlin’ drug or alcohol abuse. I think it’s now seen for what it is – an epidemic. See, coming from Shelby, NC (pop 15,310), I’d never seen marijuana, cocaine or anything like it until I got in the pros. I was a 20-year old millionaire. I felt I was invincible. I was wrong. Richard Pryor said it best, he said, “Man, I’ve been using cocaine for 20 years ‘n’ I ain’t hooked.” Once your in its grasp, it’s a hard thing to overcome. But now, thank God, I’m at eight years of sobriety. Thank God.

Even if SLAM E-i-C Ben Osborne did not make the cut for the ad, we are still excited and proud to be one of the first (if not THE first) outlets to show you the new Converse commercial that artistically shows how serious the classic brand is about being a player in modern basketball footwear.

First, a press release from Converse. Below that you can watch the ad, which should start showing up on TV this Sunday night.

——

Developed to pay homage to legends of Converse’s past, present and future and to celebrate basketball along with the breadth of Converse product, the ad shines a light on the iconic Star Chevron mark and gives nod to its authentic connection to the worlds of sport, music and culture which has helped define Converse for decades.

‘The new Converse campaign is the perfect summary of who we are as a brand. It’s a celebration of people from different cultures who are passionate about what they do, coming together to create a movement. Converse is a brand that can authentically blend culture in a way that makes perfect sense for how people view and connect to sport, music and culture today—without lines or barriers,’ says Converse CMO Geoff Cottrill.

Gritty and raw, the spot was directed by award-winning filmmaker Antoine Fuqua. The ad stars basketball legend Julius “Dr. J” Erving; Carlos Arroyo of the Miami Heat; musicians Jim Jones and Doug E Fresh; legendary ball-handler God Shammgod and Harlem streetball player Adrian “A-Butta” Walton; Converse skaters Kenny Anderson, Sammy Baca, Rune Glifberg and Eli Reed; all set to the thunderous “Hello Operator” by alternative rock band, The White Stripes. A unique fusion of all things Converse, “The Procession” speaks in a language that is clear to kids young and old who connect to the brand.

The ad is appropriately named “The Procession”, as each of its cultural, torch-bearer stars symbolically pass the torch and give nod to each other. A true legend of basketball and one of culture, Dr J. and Doug E Fresh represent Converse’s heritage and the brand’s deep connection to sport, music and culture. Simultaneously, Carlos Arroyo, Jim Jones, the Converse skate team, and the others all forge the strong connection of how Converse connects today and for the future.

In addition to the ad, each of the stars are featured in a series of online vignettes taken from outtakes that illuminate their mutual admiration for each other and that blur the lines of sport, music and lifestyle. The resulting short clips showcase new cultural, iconoclastic moments including Kenny Anderson teaching Dr J a kickflip, and God Shammgod showing Sammy Baca how to do the “Shammgod”, his signature crossover move.

“[Basketball]…it’s like a ritual. The basketball being the thing that brings everybody [together]. The rhythm and the beat,” says director Antoine Fuqua. “Converse is taking it to the streets. The streets are the heart beat.”

Converse basketball, skate and lifestyle footwear are featured in the ad, including the new Star Player Evo shoe, which represents the modern expression of Converse performance basketball. “The Procession” will be headlined by a national television spot that will launch Sunday, September 26 during FOX Television’s The Family Guy and nationally on major networks including Comedy Central, Black Entertainment Television, and TNT. Additionally, vignettes captured from out-takes of the ad will be featured on Converse.com and with select online media partners.

I mentioned attending a Converse ad shoot and ran some interview clips last month. We ran quickiesegments Converse sent us earlier this week. Well, the full-blown ad will debut tomorrow, and for now we can show you a dope behind-the-scenes video that gives the best taste yet of what the Antoine Fuqua-directed commercial will look like.

Years after he played his last professional game, there was still nobody cooler than George Gervin. For SLAM 9, Goldie chopped it up with The Iceman, and the two talked about everything from playing one-on-one with Julius Erving to that always-pretty finger roll.

by Goldie

From an old-school, yo-I-grew-up-before-Jordan, ballin’ in Chuck Taylors perspective, it was like a dream come true. George Gervin—The Ice—rang my spot.

It went summin’ like this: “Gold, this is George Gervin. Give me a holler, my man. The Ice Man. Peace.”

Hysteria! Madness! The whole nine! For the next two days, every individual that I knew in North America got a phone call with me straight buggin’ on the other line, playin’ the message back for anybody who had Ice’s infamous/famous Nike poster on their wall in the ‘70’s. I freaked while every other brother lost it. “Yo ‘$,’ you got to hold that there. Keep that message for life!” is all I heard. They knew the deal. The only call larger woulda been from Ali or Dr. J, and if their peeps are reading this: Yo, I’m still waiting.

For most hoop heads, George Gervin is like a god. Basketball has a lot to do with it, but there’s more. His aura. He always and forever came off as the coolest MF ever! His game reflected everything that every young pimp-player-hustlin’-wannabe shortie was about: Get yours and be smoover than anybody when ya git it. That’s jus’ the way players play. That’s Ice.

He ran the NBA with some Geechi Dan, pimp-for-life skills that made Walt Frazier look as phony as Huggy Bear. The only thing absent in Ice’s game was a toothpick in his mouth when he served. Oh, and did he serve! E’rybody from Marvin Barnes to Marvin Webster. From Ricky Barry to Rick Mahorn. From the ABA to the NBA. Servin’ pj’s he had a following only Doc could mess with. On every urban block in America he was large. And still, to this day, can’t nobody duplicate. He was, by all “player” standards, the Man sittin’ next to THE Man.

RIIINGGG!!! After two days of illmatic phone tag, we hook. “You want me to come to San Antonio to do this? ‘Cause you Carte Blanche, baby.” He laughed, then replied classically, “Naw man, save your cheese. We can do this right now and watch a little OJ while we talk.”

Happy as John Starks at a jump shot camp, Ice and I talk for two hours about his life, his “legendary” status, his new-found celebrity, and, of course, his finger roll.

SLAM: Who discovered you?

ICE: Coming out of the situation I came from, where I left school [Eastern Michigan] and I went to the CBA and played, Johnny “Red” Kerr [the ex-Chicago Bulls coach] spotted me playing in the Continental League. At that particular game, I got 50. He saw that and called Earl Foreman, who was the owner of the Virginia Squires [ABA] at the time, and hell, the next week I was signed and playin’ in the ABA.

Now when I got there, you have to understand this: Julius Erving was my teammate—and that’s all you really heard about. Erving! Erving! Especially me not knowing much about the ABA—and me having the opportunity to play with him—it kinda gave me an edge because Julius was so humble off the floor, while he was so dominating on the floor. He took his time with me. He kinda helped encourage me to more rapidly develop my confidence as a player.

SLAM: So Doc was the man…?

ICE: No doubt. See the ABA was full of young players who wanted to prove they belonged in the NBA. Doc was one of the players that helped the NBA realize they needed us to continue their successful future.

SLAM: In what way?

ICE: See, the game was much slower, NBA-style. In the ABA, we found out that fans like transition basketball. Fans liked seeing players being articulate when they were going to the hoop.

SLAM: Not that John Havlicek shit…

ICE: Naw, that was cool, but we brought in the youth. We brought in some young guys that had a future no matter what league they were playing in! I mean, they [the fans] loved seeing dunks, but also loved seeing a guy make a move, and goin’ around somebody and switchin’ it off the glass.

We changed basketball from a million-dollar corporation to a billion-dollar corporation. We had a lot to do with that because we were able to re-create a product that was marketable worldwide. We brought that flow, the new era of fans. We raised them up entertaining them and now [in the ‘90’s] that’s all they want to see—and it sells.

SLAM: So you were all conscious of that while you were playing in the ABA? The fact that you were actually changing the way the game was played.

ICE: I mean, I can only speak for myself and I know I was really playing to entertain. That was my way of showing my own personal style of basketball. Now if I scored 50 on you in the process, so be it [laughing]; but I do think that we established ourselves as some dominant figures in the NBA once we got there. We had something to prove.

SLAM: A’ight, what about the name “Ice.” “The Iceman.” It just seemed to fit everything you were about. Just cool. Too cool. And it seemed to work for you on and off the court.

ICE: Fatty Taylor [ex-ABA legend] gave me the name. Fatty used to watch me play, and I was quiet and stuff, you know. I used to be shootin’ that jumper, scorin’ and never said nothin’—and he was like, “Man, you cool man. You cold!” then he just started callin’ me “Ice.”

But I never really got into “Ice” while I was playin’. I got into it afterwards. I found out that a lot of brothas comin’ up wanted to be like “Ice.” Hell, look at Ice Cube [laughing]. They had to get that from somebody.

SLAM: It’s all on you…

ICE: My man Chuck D. [Public Enemy] told me one day, he said, “Ice—Ice Cube and Ice T, man they got that from you.” I mean, Chuck’s the one that broke it down to me, and that’s coming from a tough brotha in that [rap] circle, so I guess “Ice” turned out to be a’ight.

SLAM: Was your game one-dimensional?

ICE: Man, my game was transition. Our whole thing was to shoot the ball more times than you. That was our philosophy—and it made sense. If you only get 50 shots walkin’ the ball down the floor and I’m shootin’ a hundred—ain’t no way in the world you gonna beat me! [Laughing.] I’m gonna mess your game up because I’m going to keep running down the floor and you are going to have to come after me. I was able to change the tempo of the game by runnin’, trappin’ and making you give up the ball. I put you in a situation where you had to handle the ball well or give it up because we’re in transition again because we stole the ball.

Nothing melodic. We liked to get up and go. Dr. J-style. We used to get Doc in transition and watch his hair fly [laughing hysterically]. That was the thing.
SLAM: [Also laughing.] Yo, how come you never grew a big ‘fro?

ICE: ‘Cause I didn’t have that type of hair. My kids are mad at me today because they ain’t got that type of hair. E’rybody can’t grow that real big fro, but I used to try. Yeah, I used to put the hot iron on it to blow it up before games, but once the games started and that sweat it hit—SHROOP—it was gone! Shrunk back to normal… But I was still cool [laughing].

SLAM: Okay, talk to me about the scoring title battle between you and David Thompson in 1978 when he scored 73 on the final game of the season and you dropped 63 to win it.

ICE: Well, see, originally we [San Antonio Spurs] were supposed to play the games at the same time, but for whatever reason they pushed our game back while David played first. Now all of these reporters started coming up to me after he scored 73, saying that he was ahead of me by a percentage point. You know, waking me up that afternoon saying, “Yeah George, David just took your scoring titled, he just scored 73!” Now, I’m asleep, trying to get my rest, so I was like, “Cool, if anybody could do it, David can.” Then as the game proceeded to start, Doug Moe [the Spurs coach] asked me if I wanted to go for it, and you know me, I was like, “I don’t care, Coach.” And he said, “Let’s go check with the rest of the team.” They all agreed to go for it.

So when we went out there, I missed my first six shots. Coach called a time-out, and I told him that we ain’t have to worry about it, we don’t have to get this done. But all of the guys were like, “Naw, Ice, we don’t want to hear that! C’mon man, get it done!” I went back our there with about six minutes left in that first quarter and got 20 points.

Then on the second quarter I was rollin’. I got 33. And that 33 I got in that quarter—ain’t nobody broke that yet! So I had 53 at the half. And I just found out the other day that is second only to Wilt [who notched 56 in one half]. And I only played 33 minutes that whole game, and I wound up with 63. But don’t nobody talk about that 33 minutes, you know what I’m sayin’? That’s getting it done. But it really was my relationship with my teammates that enabled me to do that. I want that to be understood the most.

SLAM: Speaking about David Thompson, what would happen if you, DT, Doc, George McGinnis and Moses Malone—you know, like an ABA Dream Team—played Magic, Michael, Bird, Barkley and Ewing? Who’d win?

ICE: Ah man, it’d be a good game—but we’d win. I’d be too big for anybody they got. [Keep in mind that Gervin was one of the “original” 6-7 to 6-8 guards.] Okay, who’d you say? Let’s see, you said Magic? He’s probably have to guard…yeah, he’d have to guard me. Then Mike [Jordan] and David [Thompson], that’s the hook up there. People can talk all they want, but DT was the giant killer. Moses against Patrick? You know the deal there. And I love Doc and Barkley against each other. You know that’s good size, plus Doc had the ability to jump and go get stuff. And at the other spot, who you got?

SLAM: I got Bird down there.

ICE: Oh, you got Bird [sounding like the plot just thickened]: Bird will keep everybody together ‘cause he can play the whole game.

SLAM: But you think you’d win?

ICE: Oh hell yeah! You write for SLAM, take a poll [laughing]. They can talk all of the stuff they want, but you’re talkin’ about tradition and going back… We’d put a hurtin’ on some of those paper-machés [laughing].

See, we never quit. If they beat us once, we’d say, “Let’s play another one.” See, you got some guys that would say, “Good game,” but we’d say, “Naw, you got lucky.”

SLAM: Hit me off with the roll. Talk to me about your finger roll.

ICE: I developed that shot back in the day because I broke my wrist goin’ up to block a shot [playing defense—ironic, huh?]. So I had to stop dunkin’, and I started finger rollin’ the ball over the rim. So as I became an older pro, I just enhanced that finger roll as a part of my game.

SLAM: But Ice, you had RANGE on your finger roll. That’s crazy! I remember sometimes you’d roll one for three….

ICE: [Laughing] Naw, I was never that crazy, but I would always practice that shot by myself imagining that I was rollin’ on Kareem or Mark Eaton or Artis [Gilmore]. [All 7-2 or better.] Once I established that in my frame of mind, I wasn’t worried about nobody gettin’ it. Plus my hands are kinda big, so I was able to grip the ball well and roll it off my fingers from anywhere. I did a camp the other day, and some kids were like, “Show us your finger roll.” And I went behind the basket, you know at an angle, and finger rolled one over the backboard into the hoop. Now I got 8-, 9-, 10-, 14-year-olds lookin’ at me. They got real quiet and started lookin’ at me. So I looked at them and said, “Y’all think I can play?” They all said, “Yeah!” [laughing].

SLAM: So was that just another extension of your personality because it was smoother than dunking, or was it something you had to develop?

ICE: Man, I always played like I felt. I mean, I loved the game, so I always felt good. Not like some of these players today. I always wanted to show my signature when I played. That was my finger roll. You know, goin’ to the hole and makin’ people go, “OOOHH!”. Quiet’n’ the crowd. That was my thing. Havin’ fun out there, but still playin’ the game, I just developed that habit into my style of play. That was just me.

SLAM: When Julius said you’re the best basketball player he’s ever seen, how did that make you feel?

ICE: Me and Doc used to play one-on-one after almost every practice, and he’d dominate me. As I got older and started to pick up my game, I started to win some. That gave us a great amount of mutual respect for each other, but I think during those days he really got an opportunity to see what I was able to do. And even when we played together and everybody—even me—was talking about him, it was amazing to me to find out later on that all that time he was watching me. That humbled me as a person and a ball player. It’s incredible, still to this day, when he’ll come up to me and say things like that.

But Jerry West stopped me in the hallway one day and said, “Ice, you know I don’t come to watch every ball player, but you are one of the guys I pay to see because you come to play.” So I think they understood my love for the game. That enabled them to say, “Hey, he’s got to be one of the best to ever play.”

SLAM: Were you?

ICE: Naw. Wilt was probably the best and Connie Hawkins is probably up there too. But as far as legend is concerned? Probably so. I think my stats and [fans] will decide that. Now between me and you—my personal feelings—if you look at the rest of the players they call “legends” in the country… [begins to laugh again] HELL YEAH I’M ONE! I played with my heart and I was one of those guys who said publicly, “You don’t have to pay me and I’ll still entertain!” Because I loved the game… [he pauses] but I took the check too!

Recently, to get the summer bball season started, we rehashed an Earl “The Goat” Manigault story from SLAM 7. That story was an oldie and a goodie. Today, on the official first day of summer, we bring you a goodie that’s even older, having originally appeared in SLAM 1. If you like organized basketball, this is a must-read. If you like streetball, this is a must-read. If you like SLAM, well, you know what to do…–Ed.

by Vincent M. Mallozzi

Across the street from the Polo Grounds Towers, the looming projects which stand where the New York Giants once roamed, a bent old man dressed in a brown baseball cap, a filthy turtleneck sweater and torn blue jeans hobbles onto the basketball court. Holding a garbage bag filled with video cassettes, he looks more like a beggar than a fallen basketball king returning to his asphalt throne.

“Yo chief, you blind or somethin’?” asks one of the angry players, sticking the basketball beneath his armpit and turning the palms of his hands up to the clear, brisk October sky. “We playin’ a game, man. Drag your sorry ass outta here!”

As the other players look on, the stranger, a tall, slender black man, light-skinned, with a short beard, heads for the sidelines and gently drops his garbage bag. But much to their surprise, he whirls the bag around and hobbles back onto the court. He looks to the empty bleachers and seems to draw strength from the memories of standing ovations and chants of ‘We want Joe, we want Joe.’ “I need some dollars,” he says softly. “Who wants to play me?”

But the stranger, his tired eyes measuring the dimensions of the court the way a pool hustler measures the angles of his favorite table, breaks into a scam he’s been rehearsing for years before they were born.

“Don’t nobody here want to take my money,” he asks.

“Let’s see some money,” demands one of the young men.

“Losers show money ‘cause losers got to pay,” says the stranger.

“Stop all of the bullshit man,” says the young man holding the basketball. “You want me to take your money, I’ll take your money.”

“Twenty dollars O.K.?” asks the stranger.

“Yeah, let’s get it on,” says the young man.

“Your rock,” says the stranger, ripping the ball from the young man’s hands, palming it, waving it in his face as if he were trying to hypnotize him, and sticking it back in his chest. “Believe me little brother, I still have the home court advantage.”

“C’mon Rob, bust his ass says one of the young man’s friends.

“Yeah, c’mon Rob, show me something,” says the stranger. He leans in over the foul line and plays his man tightly. Now it’s his turn to flip his palms toward the sky, but not in anger. He’s simply playing good defense.

As the other players gather around the perimeter, the trash talking heats up, and the game begins. The young man, a lanky six-footer with a Jordan-era bald head and baggy shorts, fakes a jumper then explodes rightside toward the rim. He seems to have an easy layup, but just as he releases the ball, the stranger, with the same Afro he wore back in the days when he battled Julius Erving on this very court, gets a piece of it. The ball hits the side of the rim and pops back out. The stranger leaps high again to grab it along the right baseline and momentarily holds up. On offense for the first time, the stranger pushes his head forward as if he intends to drive for a layup, sending the young man off his feet and out of position. Free to shoot, the stranger glances at his opponent, smiles, and lets loose a soft 10-foot jumper that sees to hang cold air for two, maybe three generations before it finally falls through the cords.

“Oh, shit,” says one of the young boys.

As the game continues, the stranger begins to pull away. Reverse layup, baby hook, a two handed set shot, three straight jumpers from the foul line. “Who the fuck is this guy?” someone asks from courtside. Soon, its 12-0 and obvious to the young men that something is rotten in the state of West Harlem. Late in the game, the stranger leads 30-6, and needs just one basket to ice the contest. But as he pulls away for a game-ending jumper, a voice cries out from beyond the chain link fence.

“Yo, Joe Hammond, give that boy a break, man, don’t take his money.”

The young man calls time-out, realizes he’s been had by a ghost with a crossover dribble, drops his head and puts his hands over his knees.

“You’re Joe Hammond?” he asks. He puts his hand in his right sock and pulls out a crumpled $20 bill. “Here’s your money, man.” No disrespect.

*****

Standing on the same playground shrine where he immortalized himself in the greatest playground game ever, Joe Hammond, now 42, stares across the street and points his $20 bill in the direction of the Polo Grounds projects. “Willie Mays used to be the big show over there,” he tells me. “And Joe Hammond used to be the big show over here.”

From across the street comes a honk, and another voice cries out, “Yo, Joe, what’s up baby?” Hammond looks up and sees a Mike Kookoo in a black jeep, with Mingo Mason riding shotgun. “They used to come to the games when we were kids,” says Hammond. “I used to look out for them. Now they look out for me.” The two men rush to Hammond’s side. “You need a lift, Joe?” says Kookoo, with a smile.

In Harlem, and in many other neighborhoods in New York, the mention of Joe Hammond’s name, or even the sight of him lumbering across his old domain with a grbage bag slung over his shoulder instead of a duffel bag, still brings a smile to the face of anyone who saw him play in the 1970’s, back when he electrified crowds with soaring dunks, precision shooting and whopping scoring totals. Back when he made enough money selling dope and shooting dice to tell the Los Angeles Lakers to take their $50,000 rookie contract and shove itup their purple-and-gold-wrist bands.

“Those were the glory days,” says Hammond, walking over to pick up his garbage bag. “I had so much shit going my way, I thought it would all last forever. But here I am twenty years later, flat broke and selling bootleg video tapes on the street for a living. I blew my chance, man. I look back now, and I realize that I was just another knucklehead.”

At the age of 19, without ever having played a minute of high school or college basketball, Hammond , son of a New York City transit worker, born and raised in Harlem, had already achieved professional status with the Allentown Jets of the Eastern Basketball Association, and was touted by NBA scouts as a future star in their league. If you wanted to see the 6’4” guard do his thing on the basketball court, you traveled to Rucker Park on 156th Street and Eighth Avenue, where playground stars, college All-Americans and most pro players during the off-season played for some of the most theatrical basketball ever.

“In his day, Joe was on a par with guys like Dean Meminger and Tiny Archibald,” says Don Adams, the basketball coach at Taft High School in the Bronx, who was the only coach Hammond ever had at the amateur level. “And for his size, he was better than they were. Pound for pound, Joe Hammond was the greatest basketball player ever to come out of Harlem.”

Fathers still tell their sons about the Rucker League’s most famous game in 1970, when Hammond’s Milbank squad played against a team called the Westsiders. Milbank, a neighborhood team, was composed mainly of playground phenoms like Hammond, Pee Wee Kirkland, Eric Cobb (the Elevator Man), Joe Thomas and Jake Ford. The Westsiders, a group of professional players, were led by the Doctor himself, Julius Erving. Their roster sparkled with names like Charlie Scott, Billy Paultz, Mike Riordan and Brian Taylor.

On that day, thousands streamed into tiny Rucker Park for the highly anticipated showdown. Those who couldn’t get seats climbed the chain link fence surrounding the park, perched themselves on tree limbs or stood on the hoods of cars to get a glimpse of the action.

“It was mind-boggling, considering all the great players that were in that park,” says Peter Vecsey, now a basketball columnist for the New York Post and an NBC analyst, who coached the Westsiders. “Stuff like that, with pros and playground athletes competing in tournaments, would never happen today because teams have too much money invested in their players. It was a once in a lifetime thing, nothing like I’ve ever seen before.”

Jackson and Julius. Scoop and Dr. J. No further introduction is needed for this classic interview, featured in SLAM 17, April 1997. Enjoy.—Ed.

by Scoop Jackson

As the words leave his mouth, a deeper understanding of life, not just basketball, overcomes me. I was meant to be here. For years, the man has been a part of me, part of why I do what I do, part of why I am what I am. Basketball served only as a catalyst, a center, a nucleus for what many of us did during our childhoods when the rainbow was never enough.

“Would you stop bouncin’ that damn ball!” I can still hear my mother screaming at me for waking her up. After her scream would come Ms. Johnson’s scream. Then Ms. Warfield’s scream. Soon, the whole neighborhood was up. 5:30 a.m. Red, white and blue basketball, knee braces, No. 32 t-shirt and ‘fro in effect. Ballin’ on a milk crate nailed to the light post in the alley behind the crib. Every day, all day. This is what I did as a child.

I never told Julius Erving this story, didn’t need to. He’s heard it from thousands of other kids who, like me, spent our formative years wanting to be him. He was all we had. He became our hero, our role model, to some of us, our father. All because he could do things with a basketball that nobody else could do. He, especially when he went into Dr. J mode, was able to transcend what the game was all about. He made every kid who watched him play feel something. And to this day, some of us have never experienced those feelings again.

My eyes are locked on him now. I’m watching his hands move as he makes a point to me in this life lesson that some of you will see as only an interview. These same hands that over 16 years produced 30,000 points, unbelievable moves, legendary dunks, and carried the weight of two leagues (one to beyond-cult status, the other into prosperity), were stressing the importance of balance. They were telling me about a career that embodied what black life tends to be all about: expression. The hands that changed the game of basketball forever were directly in front of me, speaking volumes about what I always wanted to know as a child. And I soon learned that the life of Dr. J was never about basketball; it was about being a man.

To some of us, basketball was the only outlet. In my mind, there was never anything else. Because I’m still alive to tell this story, I realize that Julius Erving is in front of me now to remind me that life begins once the ball stops bouncing.

THE REASON

SLAM:Two years. For two years you put me on hold. I’m not even nervous anymore [laugh]. Why?

JULIUS ERVING: Timing. I believe timing is everything. Me and you were consistent the whole time; we knew what was up. There was no real sense of urgency. You were going to be around, I was going to be around. I mean, just to do a story to get it out…

SLAM:Yeah, that’s true, because everytime we saw each other you made sure that we were taking care of everybody else. [In a deep voice] “OK, Scoop, did you get Gervin? Did you get the Big O? Did you get Artis? What about DT?” It was like you wanted to make sure everybody got theirs before you got yours. Is that the type of person you are?

ERVING: My story is going to be here [laughs], and yes, I believe that all of the people you mentioned deserve attention, especially in terms of the ABA significance. Gervin, Gilmore, Billy Knight, George McGinnis, the coaches, the owners–I’d like to see them all get play, because it’s been 21 years since the last ABA game and I never want the league to be looked upon as a CBA. I want it to be looked upon as a competitive rival to the NBA that because of the talent in the league and the competitive capability, forced an absorption of the last four franchises [Indiana, San Antonio, New Jersey, Denver] and made the NBA better.

I’ve never been one to seek attention or publicity unless it was necessary. So to put a lot of weight on my story just for the sake of doing it…I’ll just say that I think the quality of the story can only be enhanced by us waiting.

SLAM: Since we’re on the ABA, when people say, “Dr. J was the ABA,” how does that make you feel?

ERVING: As much as it may be flattering for someone to say that, I think it belittles the totality of the situation. In my mind, if you just look at it as Julius Erving just being the ABA, I think that I may have had the greatest influence as far as the league receiving recognition-but in no way was it just or all about me. And a lot of that had to do with timing. Once again, timing is important.

The ABA existed nine years; I participated in five of those years. The first five years versus the last four were drastically different. TV became more interested in the league, the media became more interested in our league, then there was the significance of the Nets/Nuggets series [the last ABA Championship series], plus the NBA. So when they say Julius Erving was the ABA, it’s a nice pat on the back, nice kudos, but it’s really not the answer to anything.

SLAM:Was that series the best basketball you’ve ever played? I mean, in my mind there are only three series in history that stand out as unreal: Bernard King’s ’84 playoff series against Detroit, Hakeem’s series against David Robinson a couple of years ago and yours against the Nuggets in ’76…

ERVING: Let me tell you about that-now that team had an exact identity. We were so in-sync with one another that the last month of the season, [coach Kevin] Loughery was so shrewd, he said to me, “I want you to go on vacation the last month so that you can be ready for the playoffs.” [Laughs.] This is what he said! He said, “Go to the islands, go somewhere, whatever…” And I said, “I can’t do that, coach.” So he said, “Well if you’re gonna stay, I’m only going to play you in the first quarter. So do whatever you’ve got to, just do it in the first quarter.” At the time I was leading the league in scoring, averaging about 29 a game. It was me and [George] McGinnis. So the last three weeks of the season, I was averaging like 12-13 points in the first quarter, then I’d sit down.

It was a sacrifice, because I wound up losing the scoring title, but by the time the playoffs came, I was fresh. I was healthy, I was ready. To the point where, in the first practice before the playoffs started, we had a lay-up line. And everybody was dunkin’ the ball. Boom, boom, boom. And I went in and…BOOM! Everything came down. The glass, the rim, everything. Matter of fact, I still have the rim at my house. After that, coach was like, “A’ight, y’all go home.”

And in the series with Denver, you now, I started off with 45 and 48 points back-to-back. I felt good. And the next four games, I don’t think I scored under 30 against them. So I probably don’t have a better time in which I played better basketball. I don’t think so. At least not in a playoff series. And that season, for all intents and purposes, it was really a season of being in total control, and it could have gone to any level.

SLAM:You once said that George Gervin was the best basketball player you’ve ever seen.

ERVING: No, I said George was the person I’d pay to see. Abdul-Jabbar is the best. He’s the guy I rate No. 1 as the best player.

SLAM:OK, then didn’t you once say, before anybody else was thinking like this, that Scottie Pippen was the best two-man in the history of basketball?

ERVING: Yeah, yeah. I said that before Michael retired [Ed.’s note: actually before the Bulls won their third championship]. There are certain things that he does for that team that Michael doesn’t do. Definitely defensively. I think offensively he’s always conscious of getting the other guys involved. Not to take anything away from Michael, but I think Scottie is just more cognizant of the total package, and that makes them complement each other real well.

SLAM:Who do you see more of your game in, Michael’s or Scottie’s?

ERVING: I think in the beginning it was Michael’s, but I think as time went on, more like Scottie’s. Scottie’s style in terms of taking the ball to the hole, and I think Michael’s as far as scoring from different positions and different angles.

SLAM:And man, you had angles…

ERVING: That’s funny, because I had a conversation with Bill Russell once, and he was saying that guys could get him once, but they couldn’t get him again because he’d always remember what their move was. So I said, “Bill, if I came down on you, I’m not even sure what I would want to do, so there’s no way you would know.” [Laughs.] He said, “Doc, I’d find a way to get you. I wouldn’t let you just come in dunking on me.” I said, “Bill, I could dunk on anybody.” So we went back and forth, back and forth. He was sure of himself…and I was sure of myself. I said, “Bill, you might get a few, but you ain’t getting ’em all. I got too many.” [Laughs.]

THE REAL

SLAM:Has anybody ever told you thank you? I mean, you “raised” a generation of kids, especially black kids, that weren’t yours. Everyone from Magic to Grant Hill gives you credit for being more than just a role model in their lives; it was more like a father thing. In my life, it was my pops, Muhammad Ali and you-between the three of you, I learned about manhood. Has anyone else just walked up to you and said, “Thanks Doc”?

ERVING: Yeah, they have. A lot of cats, they come up to me, and they say, “You don’t know how you affected my life.” So I do get it.

And I looked at this, and I thought about it too, because you know my dad was gone. He and my mom separated when I was three, and he died when I was nine. My mother remarried when I was 13, so I had a stepfather until he passed when I was 34. And his role throughout my life made me feel very conscious of going through the transition from one who was being mentored to becoming the mentor. Because of that, I definitely feel as though I have been a mentor to a couple of generations of young black people, particularly young black men.

SLAM:So even though you were just playing ball, you felt the responsibility to fill that void?

ERVING: There’s no question that there is a responsibility to young boys and girls who are not yours when you are an influence in their lives. You have to step up to the challenge of being a positive influence and standing for something. Otherwise you will fall for anything. And I never wanted to be an extremist about it, because I think that the extremist viewpoint is very dangerous. So my thing was balance. I was always looking for balance. And I base this on the demand for me to get out and publicly speak. Youth games, boy’s clubs, YMCA’s, all of those things. Why would they call? Why would they want me to be there if I didn’t represent some sort of model to them that either helped to fill a void or represented something?

I’ve always taken that seriously. And I’ve always felt that I’m not going to go anywhere without really being prepared to say something that means something-and I refuse to just talk basketball. As John Thompson said, “The air can always be let out of the ball at any moment.”

SLAM: So how did you separate the man from the ballplayer?

ERVING: As much as I reveled in the Dr. J image on the court, off the court I always introduced myself as Julius Erving-and I always had to fight being viewed as the alter ego, the Dr. J. Most of the time, it worked out though, because I could separate the two and I could make demands to be looked at as a man off the court. As time went on, I think the off-the-court persona became dominant, to the point where I’d walk in some doors and basketball wasn’t even an issue. I began to be respected as a man, a black man and as a serious person regarding life and things that are challenging. And I’m very comfortable with that.

SLAM:Do you feel blessed?

ERVING: I feel absolutely blessed, and I also feel that it was made to happen, it didn’t just happen. It was made to happen by demanding it. I think that as an athlete, you have to get to a point where in meeting people they don’t just look at you as a jock. There’s nothing wrong with being a jock, but being looked at as one full-time and that’s your only sphere-there’s something wrong with that. You’ve got to have levels, and you’ve got to make demands.

d

THE TRUTH

SLAM:Could you please clear up this Rucker Park story about Joe Hammond droppin’ 50 on you in one half?

ERVING: When I first heard the story, a couple of years ago, I was kinda happy. I was like, guys like Joe, guys like Manigault, give them some play because they really mean a lot to the community. Now the story is that Joe showed up at halftime and scored 50…on me [laughs].

From my perspective, Joe heard about our team and showed up for one of the games. I think his team was the Rucker Pros. It was him, Pee Wee Kirkland, and I can’t remember who their big guys were. Anyway, Joe came at the beginning of the game. He played guard, and he played against Charlie Scott. And Charlie was the best player on our team. Now, he and Charlie got into a kinda shoot-out. They shot the ball every time they came down court, it was like a one-on-one. I think they both scored over 30, 40 points, but they both played the whole game. And my game, I played my game. I basically just played my game that day. I was probably getting 30 points, 20 rebounds every night. We beat them. He showed up for that game and never showed up again. And honestly, that was the only time I saw him.

So the story was more about Joe and Charlie more than it was Joe and me, but I kinda became a bigger name than Charlie, so later on when they started talking about it, I was the guy they picked.

SLAM:Someone’s always testing you, huh?

ERVING: I understand that people have needs. I mean, it doesn’t bring me down-if anything, it brings you up. Like that high school kid that dunked on Michael Jordan in the summer, he’s got something to talk about the rest of his life. I mean, you want things to be valid, but some things you just got to let slide.

SLAM:What don’t you let slide?

ERVING: There was this one time at Rucker, and this big guy got me, low-bridged me. I went in and I hit the ground hard-this is asphalt. The cat kneed me and gave me this snarl; I mean he was like 6-10, two-fi’ty. And I got up and said to myself, the next time I go in something’s gonna happen. I don’t know what it is, but something’s gonna happen.

When I came back the next time, I got the ball on the wing, and I just came in. He stuck his hand in front of the rim, and I just…POW! I just heard his fingers crackin’. He broke like two fingers, and I just threw the ball through the rim hard. After it happened, I said to myself, “You kind of a mean son-of-a-bitch sometimes.”

Right then, I had to make a decision on what type of player I was going to be. And that was like a moment in which I learned something about myself, and I didn’t like myself at that time. I knew from then on I never wanted to be out of control emotionally. But I had to pay him back [laughs].

SLAM:OK, clear this one up for me. Rumor has it that during the practice session of the dunk contest in ’76, you were doing a standing-at-the-free-throw-line dunk.

ERVING:What?!?

SLAM:Yeah, I was there and I didn’t see it, but I heard that you could actually stand on the foul line, rock your body, and when you got enough momentum, spring and dunk.

ERVING: Like I said, validation [laughing]. Man, that thing is hard enough to do running. Mike Powell or Carl Lewis couldn’t do that dunk. The actual dunk was standing on the baseline [out-of-bounds, behind the basket], leaping out, and dunking backwards. That’s a dunk.

SLAM:And you did that?

ERVING: Yeah. I had Jerry [Stackhouse] trying to do it, and he couldn’t.

SLAM:Word its that all your strength was in your afro [laughs]. Ice, Steve Jones, all of them have stories about your ‘fro. In all honesty, yours wasn’t that big, but it kind of defined you. I think people made your afro bigger than it actually was.

ERVING: Things get exaggerated. It’s like the fish that got away. It was a six-pound fish, now he was an 18-pound fish, but he got away. [Julius begins to smile.]

Always with pride. I always wore my ‘fro with pride. I think that during that era, it was an important time of self-expression. Now, Darnell Hillman got me into pickin’ out the ‘fro. He had the big rake, and he had the blow drier. I didn’t used to blow my ‘fro out, I used to comb my ‘fro. I started pickin’ it in college and just laid it back. But Darnell was into it! So I kinda followed suit. Mine never got as large as his, but it was in the same league. And when I’d run, it would just go back, almost part itself. It got a little ridiculous, but I had to roll with it.

THE REMEDY

SLAM:Speaking of blowin’ up, you really blew up by word-of-mouth. When you were doing your thing, there was no television, no marketing, no ESPN. It was just like, before you even stepped into the NBA, everybody knew about you. It was just legendary story after legendary story of the things you were doing that nobody got to see. What do you think would have happened to you if you had all the outlets then that are available to athletes now?

ERVING: In terms of my personality or in terms of the blow-up?

SLAM:As far as the blow-up.

ERVING: Oh, the blow-up would have been a given. Because I go all over the world now, and people know me. So it was there, but it wasn’t out to the masses. It was a different methodology; the global marketing wasn’t like it is now. It was like a cult thing, like you said, word-of-mouth. But not just me, what about Oscar [Robertson] or Jerry West? With the global marketing, how big would they have been? Bigger than life. And now it seems like that’s the criteria: you’re either big or you’re bigger than life.

SLAM:My cousin came by my office one day and brought his 9-year-old son with him. Now, in my office I have a poster of you. I asked little Chris if he knew who that was. He said, “Yeah, that’s Dr. J. My Daddy told me that he was the greatest player ever.” My father used to do the same thing to me with Elgin [Baylor]; he used to say Elgin was the greatest. I told him I thought you were the greatest. It took my pops a long time, but he finally conceded and gave in to you being the best. What’s going to happen to your aura when little Chris tells his Daddy that he thinks Michael Jordan is the best and not Julius Erving? Is it our responsibility to keep your legacy alive?

ERVING: I think basketball is just a game. Let me put it this way: To me, Marvin Gaye is the greatest singer ever. You know what I mean? You listen to Luther and all of these other great singers, but when Marvin comes on, I gotta stop! He moves me. I gotta stop and say, “That’s the man.” Now someone may come along and lay 10 or 20 tracks and get the job done. You know, one of the ages, a classic. But it’s not Marvin, who is the standard for me.

I think sports it the same thing. This is not going to determine whether or not there’s going to be peace and happiness in the world [laughs]; it’s not about life or death. It’s about choices and tastes. Yes I do believe that we need to support the tradition and recognize what others have done, but we don’t need to play one off against the other. Just because Michael comes along doesn’t change anything.

What I’m talking about is how these players make you feel when you see them play? Elgin, Connie, myself, Michael. To know that you are watching something special happen that’s artistic. Something that is profound. Something that is going ot make you sit back and say, “I’m moved.” Why recognize a guy at the expense of another guy? Enjoy it, because there’s only a handful of people that are going to move you.

It’s February 2010, 25 years since Michael Jordan broke out and revolutionized the game of basketball, and in doing so, one of his defining moments in his breakout year was the 1985 NBA Slam Dunk Championship…but I’m not going to get on Michael’s e-balls for the sake of it. MJ is merely the jumpoff point to revisit the past and observe the events that in retrospect became a changing of the guard of sorts.

I repeat: this is a revisiting and not a play-by-play of the moment in time.

It’s funny, when the SportsCenter highlights are shown of that exhibition contest, we have usually seen quick clips of dynamic compilations of all the dunkers that night deliver fantastic aerial assaults. Noted and true, but upon my having watched the ’85 Contest on NBATV HD, and it was a different feel altogether. The players weren’t as enthused being there; the crowd was more audible and there wasn’t any menacing, asinine music playing; and in general, the players looked different. This was a time when the contests weren’t yet as acclaimed as they were now, and the legends of the event were yet to be truly developed. Rap and hip hop music weren’t the background to high-flying in the League and the players weren’t the muscular behemoths that they are in present day. Even the shoes were quaint, if not downright mundane (all-whites with team hues as the trim colors—it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that the kicks were about as square as a pack of white tube socks).

Many things stand out about the players themselves, which in fact, makes the entire Slam Dunk Championship stand out. Larry Nance was the defending champ from ’84, having won with a reverse two-ball dunk. He was mainly stoic and having already won, looked about as motivated to jump as Charles Barkley is motivated to leave his leather recliner while downing a jelly donut.

Orlando Woolridge got some brief time in, and emphatically was beat out of the contest. Darrell Griffith, the “Skywalker”, showed his stuff, and didn’t look nearly as short being a 6-4 shooting guard as one would think he would standing next to guys 6-9 and 6-10. Terence Stansbury would make his initial appearance with an array of 360s and awkward tomahawk jams, which were highlighted further from his “Statue of Liberty” dunk—this was merely the first of missed opportunities in the affair.

Julius Erving had gotten a bye in the contest to move along to the second round of the gala, and while he was there seemingly for nostalgic purposes, “The Doctor” did show a pulse. Of course, he bowed out having gone through all of his old stuff (the cuff dunk, the free-throw line dunk, the reverse jam from-the-wing) and even bothered to try and win off of the same dunk that Nance won on the previous year.

Young MJ came along and soared for a little while in his signature black and red Air Jordan warm-ups, before stripping down to his matador red Chicago Bulls road uni. An awkward side jam here, a remix version of Dr. J’s cuff dunk there, a reverse slam and a truer-to-form edit of The Doctor’s free-throw take-off gave him the honorable title of…first loser. Had you known better, you might not have thought that Jordan cared much to be there (certainly Isiah Thomas was building a case against the young rookie, as the point guard was shouting winning suggestions for Michael’s final round competitor as he sat on the hardwood floor).

Of course, most aficionados (or lazy Googlers) already know that “The Human Highlight Film” Dominique Wilkins won his first title that very event, upstaging everyone with his patented two-leg launch-offs that turned into Shawn Kemp predecessors at the rim, and he was easily the one that seemed the most serious about winning the crown of king of the NBA’s dunk elite. The sheer power of ‘Nique is magnified when you consider how sleek he was. At least 20 pounds under his more famed silhouette, he moved more like a jaguar leaping into the air and pounding the ball down.

I looked at this entire thing on television, and was amazed at how nonchalant and seemingly unimportant the whole thing seemed to be. The crowd was mesmerized, but the players seemed so cool, I was waiting for Mr. Freeze to come out and let everyone know that he spiked all the guys’ Gatorade with a delayed-action suspended animation concoction.

Nate Robinson was my favorite to win the 2010 contest, but I didn’t have any expectations for him. Those who have watched the changes in the dunks, players and various formats of the championships can attest to varying degrees of interest and apathy. I myself have both loved and disdained many of the February classics, since I first started watching in 1995. Nothing will probably top the 2000 and 2008 events, and though I abhorred 2001’s showing, nothing has struck me with the boredom of 1985.

It’s unforgettably forgettable.

Sandy Dover is a novelist/writer, artist and fitness enthusiast, as well as an unrepentant Prince fan (for real). You can find Sandy frequently here at SLAMonline, as well as at Associated Content and Twitter.

]]>http://www.slamonline.com/blogs/san-dova-speak-easy/1985-an-nba-slam-dunk-contest-retrospective/feed/14SLAMonlineOriginal Old School: The Year of Living Dangerouslyhttp://www.slamonline.com/the-magazine/old-school-2/original-old-school-the-year-of-living-dangerously/
http://www.slamonline.com/the-magazine/old-school-2/original-old-school-the-year-of-living-dangerously/#commentsSat, 19 Dec 2009 14:30:37 +0000http://www.slamonline.com/online/?p=56208

SLAM 36: No one captured the insanity and brilliance of the ABA better than Marvin “Bad News” Barnes.

He was known as “Bad News Barnes,” and throughout the 1970’s, Marvin Barnes lived up to his nickname. The kid from Rhode Island was a viciously talented offensive machine, for one year, while playing in the ABA. Unfortunately, drugs, among a laundry list of shortcomings, derailed what could have been a brilliant career. Recently, Barnes has spoken with AOL Fanhouse about his involvement with drugs during his playing days. In 2007 he was arrested on cocaine charges, but says he’s been sober ever since. Barnes now talks to youth about avoiding drugs and staying out of trouble. It’s been a long road for a man who Scoop, who he profiled back in September 1999, referred to as, “the original negro with an ego.”–Matt Lawyue

by Scoop Jackson

For one year of Marvin Barnes life it could be said that the 6-9, 220-pound forward was the best basketball player in the world. For one year it could be argued that there was no one better in either the NBA or ABA. For one year there was no denying that Marvin Barnes, and everything that came with him, was worth it. For one year.

That year was ’74. The Carolina Cougars of the American Basketball Association had just been sold to a collection of New York business types, transferred to St. Louis and renamed the Spirits. Before the ink dried on the sale, an All-American out of Providence College was already signed to a seven-year, $2.1 million rookie deal.

Marvin Barnes, who had left Providence after leading the nation in rebounding at 18.8 per game (he also averaged 22 points), was also the second overall pick in the NBA draft, selected by the Philadelphia 76ers. But he immediately made his choice clear: “I made the ABA my preference over the NBA,” he told the UPI wire service, “because of its dedication in getting the best of all the college players.” That and the presence of one Julius Erving. “I want to pattern myself after Dr. J. I’m one of his biggest fans. Man, isn’t it something the way he flies through the air and sinks those shots.”

This is where it all began. The legend known as Marvin Barnes came into pro basketball as the “beyond keepin’ it real” version of Muhammad Ali. Poppin’ shit, takin’ names, trippin’, serving opponents like a restaurateur. For Marvin Barnes, basketball was a necessity. He was expensive. And basketball paid his bills. Something was going to enable him to earn his worth, and at the expense of the game itself, Marvin Barnes was about getting paid—and everything that came along with it.

“I don’t want him around!” the coach screamed. “I don’t want him in uniform. This is a job and the way we make our living…But you’ve got to abide by the rules. And if you have to depend on Barnes for your livelihood, you have a problem.” Those were the words of Dave Cowens, reported by the AP in ’78. Cowens, then player-coach for the Boston Celtics, had the luxury of working with Marvin Barnes for less than one year. By the time Barnes got to Boston, he had already worn out his welcome at two other NBA teams, the Detroit Pistons and the Milwaukee Bucks.

In a series of misadventures-everything from missed practices to charges of pimping to assault convictions to possession of marijuana charges to being jailed for carrying a unloaded pistol in an airport-Marvin Barnes did his thing royally. The very definition of ghetto fabulousness. He became famous for saying that he would “work in a factory” rather than play for less than a million dollars (his moms set the price at $3 million), and then going out and blowing his original $100,000 signing bonus in less than five months. According to folklore/legend, Barnes purchased a $15,000 Cadillac, which his girlfriend wrecked; Marvin got the news during the warm-ups of his first exhibition game as a pro, against the San Antonio Spurs. He was “bummed out” by the news, according to Martzke, scoring only six points. He then traded it in for an upgrade on a $35,000 Rolls-Royce.

The true definition of Marvin Barnes came on October 31, 1974 in San Diego. Costas, in Loose Balls: “After the game, I saw [Marvin] in the dressing room and he started giving me his state of the Spirits speech. He told me, ‘Bro, you know what’s wrong with this team? We don’t have any team play. We don’t care about each other…Let me give you an example. Tonight, I had 48 points with two minutes to go. Did anybody pass me the ball so I could get 50? Huh? No, they just kept the ball to themselves and I got stuck on 48.’”

He was the original negro with an ego, “that sort of negro” as Barnes used to say. He was that negro America was not ready for. The kind of brotha that would honestly and openly admit, “I want all I can get,” and score 35 and grab 15 whenever the hell he wanted, while at the same time disregarding every rule set out for the concept of building a team.

Marvin Barnes’s pro career lasted about eight years. He finished on a 10-day contract with the San Diego Clippers in ’81 after playing in Trieste, Italy for a minute. His dreams of being the next Dr. J. only held true for one season—his first, when, if not for the drama, he might have been able to add an MVP trophy to his Rookie-of-the-Year hardware. In retrospect, it may have been the most twisted yet phenomenal season of any professional player ever. It was the year that a 22-year-old kid from North Kingston, RI, shook up the world.

November 20, ’74. Seventeen games into his rookie season—after he had already served notice with a 48-point, 30-rebound game—and Marvin Barnes was ghost. As Woodrow Paige for the Rocky Mountain News wrote: “Marvin Barnes is a free spirit. In fact, the Spirits of St. Louis center is so free, no one knows where he is.” Claiming to be a “penniless millionaire,” Barnes, on the advice of teammate Joe Caldwell, left the Spirits’ organization to fire his agent (Bob Woolf) and hire a new one (Marshall Boyer). Barnes discovered that he had been “hoodwinked” on his contract and, following a suggestion, refused to play ball until his money was straightened out. (According to Harry Weltman, then president of the Spirits, the $2.1 million for seven years was actually to be paid over 14 years, meaning Barnes was only getting $150,000 per year.) Barnes stayed with Boyer apparently for a total of six days before he switched again, hiring Walt Frazier’s and Billy Cunningham’s agent, Irwin Weiner to handle his business. He returned to the squad one week later.

With the money situation under some type of control, Barnes seemed to be working on getting himself under control also. His return to the courts was nothing short of prodigal. Although the Spirits’ continued to lose (despite their nice line-up of Maurice Lucas, Freddie Lewis, Steve Jones, Gus Gerard and Fly Williams coming off the bench), “BNB” put on clinics.

“Once,” Jones remembers in Loose Balls, a book chronicling the misadventures of the ABA. “[Barnes] spent the entire pre-game lay-up drill in full uniform, sitting in the stands, talking to this girl. MacKinnon ripped into Marvin for that and didn’t start him. Then he brought Marvin off the bench and Marvin went for 40 points and 20-some rebounds.

“[Marvin] thought he was Superman, and for a while he was.” On April 9, ’75, in Game 2 of the first-round of the playoffs, on the night Marvin received the Rookie-of-the-Year award over Bobby Jones and a 20-year-old high school refugee named Moses Malone, he had to face his idol, Erving. In straight Greek mythillogical (sic) fashion, after scoring 41 in the first game (a loss), Marvin dropped a 37-point, 17-rebound night on Erving, while defensively holding Doc (with the help of Gerard) to only six points. The Spirits beat the defending ABA champion Nets 115-97. It was one of those nights that people’s grandkids would hear about for years to come. Of the 10,621 that attended that game, all got a glimpse of Barnes true ability.

If anything, that game and that series put Marvin Barnes on the map.

At 22, he was fifth in the ABA in scoring (24.1) and third in rebounding (15.6), and he knew he had to take his career in a different direction. “I may have been a little disoriented in the beginning of the year,” he said. “I have to adopt a professional attitude. I’ve realized that I’m not just playing for myself anymore, I’m playing for my teammates, my coach, my mother, the fans, and all the people who believe in me.” Those were the right words, the right idea. Unfortunately, this would be where Barnes’ career ended and his life took over.

“I’m a basketball player, not a monk.” Marvin once said, “I play the women, I play the clothes, I play the cars, I play everything I can. There’s players and there’s playees. The playees are the ones that get played on by the players. I’m a player.

“They keep telling me, ‘You can’t make any more mistakes. Don’t miss any more practices. Don’t miss any more planes. Be on time, Marvin. Drink your milk, Marvin.’ Man, I’m 22, and a 22-year-old kid ain’t no genius. I’m tired of being ‘the franchise.’” By the beginning of his second year the ABA wanted BNB to conform. Sell out to some extent. “It’s a situation of going from boyhood to manhood,” Weltman said in the Rocky Mountain News. “And the adjustment has been extremely difficult for Marvin.” The NBA was looking at a buy-out of the league or a merger, and the ABA had to clean up its image for the NBA’s corporate structure. Despite his talent, Barnes’ tactics and actions had become too much for the white owners and coaches who ran the League, and for the Black ballplayers he played with—although most of them understood him.

Barnes’s problems didn’t start in the pros. On October 10th, ’72, while still a member of the Providence Friars, Marvin Barnes attacked teammate Larry Ketviritis with a tire iron. Charges were filed, and Barnes was in and out of court for close to five years. Although Barnes claimed self-defense, he eventually pleaded guilty to assault with a dangerous weapon.

In ’73 he received a suspended one-year jail term for the incident, with a three-year probation tag hinging on his every move. Then on May 16, ’77, almost to the day when his probation was about to be lifted, he was arrested in Metropolitan Airport in Detroit for carrying a handgun. The leagues had merged by then, and Marvin was playing for the Detroit Pistons, averaging around 10 ppg and seven rpg while trying to adjust to the NBA style of play and coaching. He served five months in prison during the off-season; the Pistons traded him one month into the next season.

“After the gun incident in Detroit, Marvin was never the same,” Martzke says over the phone. “It was like he was trying very hard to do the right thing for a while, and then that happened and it shattered him.” The downward spiral continued in January of ’81, when Barnes was arrested for eluding police and marijuana possession, and again in August of the same year on procuring for prostitution, a.k.a. pimping. The latter charge was later dropped by his accuser, who said she had fabricated the whole story. According to Barnes, who at the time was trying out for the New Jersey Nets, told the UPI, bad news had turned into bad luck. “I go to camp, I try to do good and then they arrest me.” Sometimes a brotha just can’t win.

His nickname to the world was Bad News Barnes. It’s the type of moniker that seems humorous at the time, but then comes the responsibility to live up to it. In Elevating The Game, author Nelson George describes Barnes like this: “Marvin Barnes entered the ABA in 1974, establishing himself as one of basketball’s great talents and one of its most obstinate head cases…[W]ith his appetite for one-upmanship and self-destruction, [he] epitomized some of the worst aspects of the Black urban ethos.”

In truth, Marvin Barnes was not as bad as the news that was printed about him. But in doing research for this story, I was hard-pressed to find any news clippings or stories that focused on what he did on the court. No one wrote about how in ’78 before signing a near-$1 million, three-year contract with the Celtics, Barnes requested they remove the “guarantee” from his contract, since he “didn’t deserve it based on my last two seasons in the NBA.” He elaborated: “Last year I didn’t deserve the money. I was overpaid. I want to earn my money. I’d rather be remembered as a guy who succeeds than one who got something for nothing.” Instead, everything on Barnes reads like a police record. In the eyes of many in America, Marvin Barnes was a criminal; in reality all he was was the original baller, the first true big willie of professional basketball, the 70’s version of Jack Johnson.

For one year Barnes was the torchbearer of whatever Julius Erving was going to leave on the floor, then he grew to became Erving’s antithesis.

Another story: Someone told Marvin that he was going to play against this cat named Caldwell Jones in one particular game. Defensively, the 6-11 Jones was supposed to be something special, someone who could stop Marvin. Barnes took the challenge personally and blazed Jones for 51 points and 30 rebounds in a game that is still talked about among old ABA diehards.

That one ABA year was Marvin Barnes’s legacy.

“On the court he could guard any power forward, most small forwards and most guys who were playing center in the ABA,” NBA Senior VP of basketball Operations Rod Thorn said in Loose Balls. “He could score inside, outside—the whole package. He could do everything but pass. I never saw any passing skills from him.” But BNB proving he could pass is like Roy Jones, Jr. proving he can take a punch: unnecessary.

Barnes simply shook up the structure, upset the set-up, had fun (rumors float around that Barnes once had 13-14 phones in a three-bedroom apartment), got paid, spent more than he made, got his “head messed up” by several agents and—when he wanted to—outplayed every single player in the American Basketball Association. For one year.

“He came to us with a reputation of being a loose cannon,” says Martzke, finalizing Barnes’s story. “But for one brief period he was a very reliable player. He bailed out on the team once, missed a couple of practices, a flight or two, but for one year—on the court—he was great. No one was better.”

While the NBA “Tour Bus” commercials have been a dud from the start, NBATV continues to provide dramatic spots between timeouts. Both old and new footage are mashed up to create what seems like a single, free-flowing game. There’s only one dunk, which is good–the game has become too centered around the highlight. This commercial gives an array ball fakes, lock-down defense, impressive dribbling, picture-perfect shooting and plenty of emotion. This truly is basketball at its heart. This is why the game will always and forever remain deeply etched in our hearts. (via Awful Annoucing)

The other night as I was putting together The Slammys, I hopped on YouTube to find the video of that Nuggets/Knicks brawl. And as often happens on YouTube, I ended up watching about 200 videos, of nearly everything but that brawl. I have a friend who doesn’t have TV, so they sit around watching YouTube all night. This post should make their evening.

When I was a kid, my friend Mike had a copy of the NBA Superstars videotape (on VHS, no less). I think his dad bought it somewhere. We spent hours watching that tape over and over and over. We knew every song, every dunk, every edit.

But I forgot most of it. Until the other night. I watched every NBA Superstars video I could find, and they were just as great now as they ever were then. I hope the person at ESPN responsible for their highlights sees this post, because at some point highlights need to go back to just best simply edited, without Photoshop filters and artificial jump cuts and all the crap they use now. The Superstars videos are simply edited, with maybe an occasional flourish in time to a song or something. I wish the NBA would do a retro series of videos now. Or maybe I’m getting old.

Anyway, let’s check ’em out…

Charles Barkley, set to Scandal ft. Patty Smyth’s “The Warrior”
Bang! Bang! In my mind, the greatest NBA highlight film every made. The spirit of the song perfectly matches the way Barkley played, at leaast before he went to Phoenix and started cracking jokes all the time.
FAVORITE PLAY: The tomahawk over Ewing is pretty sweet. Just remember while watching Barkley bull people around that he was just 6-4.

Michael Jordan, set to Berlin’s “Take My Breath Away”
This is an obvious play on the Top Gun hysteria that was sweeping the nation at the time (the song was actually in Top Gun). Interesting that they chose a slow jam for MJ, but it works and it works well.
FAVORITE PLAY: The play where MJ goes past Mike McGee and then splits Tree Rollins and Kevin Willis for the reverse is ridiculous, as is pretty much every highlight on here. But one of my faovrite plays of all-time is on here: Jordan holds on the left wing, ballfakes toward the baseline which makes Cliff Levingston FALL DOWN, then Jordan goes past him and dunks on Tree Rollins. Lots of Hawks getting used on this highlight. Not fun for me as a kid.

Dominique Wilkins, set to Yanni’s “Looking Glass”
This remains the only Yanni song I’ve ever willingly listened to. It works OK on here, but it takes well over a minute to get to the actual highlights. Not my favorite Nique video of all time, because they try to edit this to make seem like a more complete player than he ever was — blocking shots, making crazy passes. Still, some great highlights.
FAVORITE PLAY: Probably the double-pump in traffic against the Clips. There’s also a nice tomahawk over Larry Bird.

Akeem Olajuwon, set to Kool Moe Dee’s “How Ya Like Me Now?”
Akeem before he added the H. Pretty hilarious to see the NBA try to embrace hip-hop back then — they mostly just flash words on the screen (The Dream!).
FAVORITE PLAY: If you’ve never seen a proper turnaround jumper, watch this video. Personally, I love the play where Akeem strips Bill Walton and takes it coast to coast for the dunk. You’ve got to control the ball, Bill! Send it in, Big Fella!

Isiah Thomas, set to Vanessa Williams’ “The Right Stuff”
He’s Mr. Right, alright. It’s funny to watch this video now, when all we think of is Isiah as a bumbling businessman. Don’t forget that he one of the greatest, fastest point guards to ever play.
FAVORITE PLAY: The one where he’s triple-teamed by the Blazers but dribbles out of it and pulls up for the 15-footer. How many point guards in the NBA today can make that play? And yes, I know he hits two buzzer-beaters against the Hawks on here. I’m thinking about Yi Jianlian.

Larry Bird, set to John Mellancamp’s “Small Town”
I understand the music choice here, playing up Bird’s working-man roots. And the video is remarkable, with a lot of gritty, crafty plays. But I always remember Bird more as a guy who nailed clutch shots and made the big baskets, and that gets underplayed here. One of the few flaws on this tape.
FAVORITE PLAY: Where Bird misses the jumper, runs down the rebound and switches hands in midair to hit the runner.

Magic Johnson, set to Janet Jackson’s “Control”
When I was 17, I did what people told me. Great video. Similar to Isiah, in that Magic’s still so active now you kind of forget how ridiculously good Magic was.
FAVORITE PLAY: Nearly every pass on here is a no-look. I can’t pick a winner. Watching this video the other night is kind of what inspired this entire post.

Julius Erving, set to Whitney Houston’s “The Greatest Love Of All”
This was near the end of Dr. J’s career, so the NBA goes straight for the sentimental tip. If this video was SLAM, this would be the Old School feature.
FAVORITE PLAY: The layup against the Lakers. You know which one. Also, the cuffed dunk right on Michael Cooper’s head. Shoot, just check out the picture below on the frozen video.

For the record I actually do enjoy watching him play and when we counted down the best players in the L, my post had Kobe at number 1 and I meant every word I said then and now.

Amidst all the March Madness, uh Madness, I know you noticed how he dropped back-to-back 50 plus games. He’ll have another before the season’s over, we all know that. I’ve already decided and converted others in saying Kobe is top 20. But now I’m thinking maybe higher than that. I’m thinking there are only 9 players who I would rather have on my team if everything depended on it. Not a measly 5 dollar bet with your boys. No, I mean say for instance in some weird situation (it will never happen but lets say it did okay?) your family was kidnapped and you could only win them back by winning a game of basketball. I mean, you could get them back with a battle plan and a sawed off but as Pun said, you ain’t a killa, so lets just nix that.

So its you and 3 people who aren’t players and for the 5th spot you could pick any one player in history. Are you saying that Kobe Bryant would not make that list? For me its Jordan, Shaq, Wilt, Magic, Dream, Kobe, Moses, Bird, Kareem and Dr. J. And i’m not even sure in what order. You wanna go big and just get Shaq first but what if they start hacking and he’s at the foul line. He says he won’t miss them when it counts, but I don’t know. I’d have to take MJ first and I guess Magic although if you need excess scoring you might consider Wilt then Kobe. Plus you’d need a defender against the other team too. So, still MJ comes up, then Dream. But the fact is that Kobe would be on your list. Don’t front. We ‘re not talking about hanging out after the game and worrying about if this guy is anti-social or not. I’m talking about winning.