I REMEMBER INDIANA State's Larry Bird at the 1979 Final Four in Salt Lake City, electing not to speak to the media because of misquotes and slights in the newspapers back home in Indiana.
I remember the Boston Celtics' Larry Bird in a game against the Jazz in the old Salt Palace, electing not to go back into the game, by then a Boston blowout, to try for a rare quadruple double. He was one steal away from double figures in points, rebounds, assists and steals at the time.I remember the Dream Team's Larry Bird at the 1992 Barcelona Olympic Games, immediately after collecting his gold medal, bemoaning the fact that the Olympic tournament hadn't had "closer games."
I add it all up and see one of the most competitive, focused, self-contained, independent and gifted loners in the history of basketball.
The Indiana Pacers see a coach.
Bird's home-state team has given him a $4 million-a-year contract to coach the Pacers for three years or as long as he wants, whichever comes first. Bet on the latter. Larry Bird coaching is like putting Michelangelo on a scaffold and having him give seminars on how to hold a roller. Especially in his homeland. The second coming of Gene Hackman, he isn't. If he outlasts Magic Johnson's record - 16 games as a Laker coach and out! - it will be a milestone.
Can you imagine Bird, sitting powerless on the bench, watching a free agent straight from a year in Italy miss the open man or fail to close up a passing lane? Can you imagine Bird, pacing the sidelines, watching Reggie Miller forget about getting back on defense?
These things will get to Bird:
1) Players' cell phones ringing during team meetings.
2) Players who make 10 times more money than he did and boycott training camp for a new contract.
3) Players averaging 37 percent from the field who don't get to the arena four hours early, before the janitors, like he used to.
4) Players who miss free throws.
5) Players who stay in the game to pad their stats.
6) Players who aren't him.
7) The media.
8) Management.
9) Fans.
10) Losing.
Other than that, he should be completely content.
Remarkably, the basketball establishment keeps hiring its former superstars whenever it gets the chance, even though history comes down clearly on the side of letting the truly visionary ones fade away into highlight videos.
Very few great players have turned into great coaches. People will often trot out Bill Russell's name to suggest otherwise. But Russell's only real coaching success came as a player-coach when he personally guided the Celtics to a 162-83 record and two NBA titles in three seasons from 1967 through 1969. After that, in four and a half seasons as a coach-only at Seattle and Sacramento, Russell went 179-207 before quitting in despair halfway through the 1987-88 season, handing over the whistle to Jerry Reynolds, a man definitely not ticketed for the player's wing of the Hall of Fame.
The prototypically successful NBA coach typically comes from a more humble playing background. It seems to help to have been cut by a few clubs, to have knocked around Europe, to have served an apprenticeship on an expansion franchise, to have made your name as a player by being a "defensive specialist" or a "hustler." That formula fits a majority of the successful coaches in the NBA, past and present.
Nor is it a detriment not to have played in the league at all. Far more marginal players and non-players have made good coaches than superstars.
Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Larry Legend will buck the odds once again. Maybe he'll prove that a white guy who can't jump or run or give a decent interview can still be a great coach. Maybe he'll demonstrate that you can overcome anything - even superstardom as a player - with enough focus, willpower, perseverance, hard work, and getting to the arena early. But what's he going to do when he shows up at the arena . . . and the next guys to arrive are the janitors?