Where does Bill Russell fit in American sports history?
Undoubtedly in the stratosphere. His teams won two NCAA basketball championships, an Olympic gold medal, and 11 NBA championships in the 13 seasons he played professionally. Despite never being the Boston Celtics’ top scorer, his defense, his rebounding, his intensity and his intelligence made him the cornerstone of pro sports’ greatest dynasty, one that produced eight straight NBA crowns and earned him five NBA Most Valuable Player awards.
Where does Bill Russell fit in Louisiana sports history?
He was born in West Monroe, on Feb. 12, 1934, during hard times for nearly all Americans and certainly for those of color living in the Deep South. He spent the first nine years of his life there, where extended family members remain, where his mother, Katie, was buried after she passed at age 32, of a kidney infection, three years after she and his father, Charlie, decided to move their family west to Oakland, hoping for better opportunities.
But membership in the Louisiana Sports Hall of Fame is not among the cascade of accolades awarded Russell, who died in his sleep at the very wise old age of 88 Sunday a week ago.
Why not?
Because of a rule developed in the mid-1970s, when the Louisiana Sports Writers Association considered him for its Hall a few years after he retired in the wake of leading the Celtics to another NBA crown, the second time as player-coach, the first Black head coach in pro sports history. Through the years, that LSWA standard has been referred to as “the Bill Russell Rule” – to be eligible for selection, an athlete or coach has to have either played three seasons of high school sports and graduated with a Louisiana Department of Education degree, or have played two years at a state college, or competed for at least five productive years in the state as a pro.
That excluded Russell. And since, it’s been applied to star athletes including basketball greats Marques Johnson (born in Natchitoches), Antawn Jameson (Shreveport), baseball’s Reggie Smith (Shreveport) and gold medal USA Olympic gymnast Carly Patterson (Baton Rouge). That’s just a quick list of sports luminaries born, and in some cases, raised past their elementary school years here before their families relocated them.
Russell may not have contemplated being excluded by his home state’s Hall. After all, he declined to attend his Celtics’ jersey retirement ceremony or even his enshrinement in the nearby Basketball Hall of Fame. In his later years, at an NBA All-Star Weekend in New Orleans, LSHOF selection committee member Ted Lewis briefly spoke with him and asked if Russell had interest, better late than never, in being spotlighted here.
“No, not really,” was the reply, consistent with his lifelong values.
“It is better to understand than be understood,” he would tell his daughter. And, “you should live a life with as few negatives as possible – without acquiescing.”
One of Russell’s trademarks was declining to sign autographs. Not even for his Celtics teammates. That was almost uniformly taken as his being churlish and aloof but, instead, it was his belief that a handshake and perhaps a momentary greeting, or even a conversation, was infinitely more personal.
Bob Remy, an esteemed New Orleans sports historian who worked on stat crews for the New Orleans Jazz, Pelicans and Saints, decided as a young adult to ask for Russell’s signature when he visited as head coach of the Seattle Supersonics.
“He said he did not sign autographs. As I turned away, I felt him tap me on the shoulder, and I turned toward him. He looked at me and said, ‘Thank you for asking.’”
Boston-born Bill Magrath has a rarity. It’s a weathered, torn sheet of thin card-stock paper, the back of a roster card from a 1964 Celtics’ game in the fabled Boston Garden in the midst of the dynasty, the Celts on the way to their fifth-straight NBA championship in that mind-blowing string of eight in a row.
It’s got more than a signature — there’s a sweet backstory.
“From one Bill to another, Best wishes, Bill Russell,” it reads.
A keepsake from a kind man, once a lanky Bay Area kid with only one college scholarship offer but an incomparable competitor who rapidly ascended to become one of the world’s most successful athletes. As Boston’s biggest star left the Garden, discreetly from a side door on a stormy winter night, he encountered a very small-for-his-age boy, tugging on his raincoat and shouting, “Mr. Russell, Mr. Russell!” The very tall man, already well known for not signing autographs, swept up the kid in his arms. Then, after a brief chat, he scribbled a note nobody could have imagined would be such a treasure 60-some years later.
Bill Magrath was 9 years old. Even then, he understood Russell’s reluctance. “Black people were not treated well in Boston in those days,” said Magrath, who holds a master’s degree in sports administration from Northwestern State and is the retired media relations manager for the Sports Business Daily.
Russell was not mean when his experience could have embittered him. But he always rose up against racism and injustice. He stood alongside Martin Luther King Jr. and Muhammad Ali. Jackie Robinson asked for Russell, who didn’t know him personally, to be one of his pallbearers, because he was Robinson’s favorite athlete – for the way he competed, on the court, and in life.
Russell didn’t remain in Boston after shelving his sneakers. He returned to the west coast and eventually settled in Seattle. He lived a happy life, on his terms. He listened to NPR and watched Jeopardy or Star Trek. He enjoyed Aretha Franklin and Willie Nelson. He played golf. He read. He encouraged those he loved and, often unexpectedly, others. One night, Daily Show comic Jon Stewart fielded a call from Russell, completely out of left field. Stewart tweeted, “He thought I looked sad. Best pep talk of my life.”
Russell didn’t need, or want, to be in any Hall of Fame. But our teachers, our coaches, our leaders, our mentors need to share his story, much more than just his basketball feats, for generations to come.
Because Bill Russell fits in American history.
Contact Doug at SBJDoug@gmail.com
- With attribution to reporting by the late Frank Deford, and Rick Reilly.
