K.C. JONES, TOMMY HEINSOHN, JOHN HAVLICEK AND…WILLIAM FELTON RUSSELL
God forbid, we should forget the other three living Boston Celtic legends of that glorious era — Bob Cousy, Sam Jones and Tom Sanders.
Four in all.
That’s it.
Russ (86), Cooz (92), Sudden Sam (87) and Satch (82).
Apologies to ‘Buckshot’ Bailey Howell, ‘Nellie’ (Don Nelson), Wayne ‘The Wall’ Embry, Emmette ‘Em’ Bryant, the indomitable Mel Counts (traded for Howell), Jim Barnett, Tiny Archibald and Dave Cowens…all, similarly, up and taking nourishment, so to speak.
As in alive.
Stayin’ alive.
The era?
The Celtics of 1963 were in the middle of a run of eight consecutive championships, tallying a mind-boggling 11 in 13 seasons.
Unprecedented.
What in God’s name has happened?
2020 was a bad year…in oh, so many ways.
That’s what’s happened.
The year 2020 will be remembered for the global pandemic, and for the faker, (pardon me, to his supporters) the carrot-topped, orange-skinned carnival-barker, bellowing at the top of his 74-year-old lungs,
“Rigged, Fraud, Witch Hunt!!!”
And that’s okay, meaning that certainly, it makes sense for us to paint 2020 within those lines.
The reality, of course, is that the Boston Garden Gods don’t live forever and we’ve been losing them at a near-staggering rate the last couple of years.
K.C. Jones died on Christmas morning.
He’s crooning up above — probably belting out “You’re Nobody ’Til Somebody Loves You” — to his brothers in Green, Tom Heinsohn (November 9, 2020); and John Havlicek (April 25, 2019), not to mention John Thompson (August 30, 2020).
DJ’s there (February 22, 2007), Reggie Lewis (July 27, 1993) and Len Bias (June 19, 1986).
Red’s holding court, naturally (October 28, 2006) at a round table replete with Chinese food straight from Boston and D.C., and a box of Hoyo de Monterrey cigars.
There are dishes of assorted nuts and chocolate candy on the table, and several decks of cards.
Red liked Coca-Cola and he wouldn’t allow his boys to drink whiskey — “Let them drink beer!”
But in heaven, exceptions are made.
It’s a little more mellow up above, I’m told.
Loscy (December 1, 2015), Sharman (October 25, 2013) and Ramsey (July 8, 2018) are shmying around, happy to be in the company of their old pals.
Gene Conley (July 4, 2017) seems a bit distracted; he’s looking for Gene Guarilia (November 20, 2016) and his Red Sox buddy, Pumpsie Green (July 17, 2019).
Siggy (October 14, 2010), Clyde Lovellette (March 9, 2016) and Willie Naulls (November 22, 2018) all tip their respective caps to The Redhead.
But just as the first cut is the deepest, we sometimes tend to focus on that which happens most recently.
Old news vs. new news.
K.C. Jones.
Eighty-eight years old (1932–2020).
As tenacious on the court as he was low-key on the sidelines, K.C. was content to let others bask in the spotlight.
It was as though the man had no ego; a gift from God and a nod to his upbringing.
And we’re talking about one of the greatest winners in sports history.
Ask Russell.
The loss of K.C. hit him especially hard.
They were joined at the hip.
Russell and Jones were two-time (1955; 1956) NCAA championship teammates at the University of San Francisco, winning 56 consecutive games in the process, and won gold medals for the US at the 1956 Olympics in Melbourne before uniting in Boston, where they combined for 22 championship rings.
(K.C. was inducted into the US Olympic Hall of Fame in 1986; the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame in 1989; and the College Basketball Hall of Fame in 2006).
Jones won eight as a player, one as an assistant coach, and two as head coach.
(He also won a ring as an assistant coach with the 1971-’2 LA Lakers, under former teammate Sharman).
Russell won eleven titles in his thirteen-year playing career.
When he got the call about K.C. on Christmas Day, he tweeted the following:
@RealBillRussell —
“I just received a call letting me know my x-roommate/teammate & most of all friend the great KC Jones passed this morning. Prayers to his family. We have been friends for almost 60 yrs…Friends for life.”
#2020Usuck #RIP @NBA @celtics
Marveled Russell — the greatest defender of them all — with respect to K.C.’s defensive acumen,
“K.C. Jones does not have a bagful of defensive moves. He has a whole truckload of defensive moves. He will pester a guy so much that the guy will start to look for K.C. even when he’s not there.”
Then Russell did himself one better.
“Of all the men I know in life, K.C. is the one I would like one of my sons to be like.”
Cousy got a call that same day and paid tribute to his quiet, unselfish teammate, with whom he shared five championships.
“It had to be frustrating for K.C. when he came to us because we had so many good players,” he began. “We had four Hall of Fame guards. K.C. didn’t get to start for five seasons, until after I left. That’s a long wait for a Hall of Famer.”
He continued, “It was tough on him because your career in sports is so limited. But having K.C. and Sam as back-ups just gave our team such power. That’ll never be duplicated.”
Whether playing for the Celtics or coaching them (1983-’88) Jones was decidedly low-key.
[He also coached in the NBA with the Lakers as an assistant in 1971-’2; with the Bullets (1973-’76); the Bucks as an assistant (1976-’77); the Celtics as an assistant (1978-’83); Seattle as an assistant (1989-’90); Seattle as the head coach (1990-’92); Detroit as an assistant (1994-’95); and finally with the C’s again as an assistant (1996-’97)].
As head coach for three NBA teams — the Bullets, SuperSonics, and Celtics — Jones compiled a 522–252 record and none of his teams had a losing season.
“People want to see a coach who has a whip in one hand and a chair in the other,” he mused during an interview with Knight-Rider Newspapers in May 1986, while en route to his second Celtics championship as head coach.
“I don’t fit that mold. I prefer not to embarrass my players in front of 15,000 people just to impress the world.”
There is a school of thought which suggests that despite his grandiose achievements, K.C. Jones never got the credit he deserved.
It may have been because he was self-effacing by nature.
It may have been because he was a black coach then.
Harvey Araton of The New York Times thinks both came into play.
“In a sport that defines its champions by the superstars who drive them, Jones never had the self-promotional skills or ego-driven desire to muscle his way onto a pedestal. He never overcame the news media stereotype of him as some hybrid shepherd/spokesman for the collective genius he sent onto the floor each night.”
No less an authority than Danny Ainge said after Jones left the Celtics, “People saw him as this nice, quiet guy, but he’s so intense, so competitive.”
Araton goes on to point out that in the five years Jones coached the Celtics to a higher winning percentage regular season and playoffs (.751) than Auerbach, Russell, Bill Fitch, Heinsohn or anyone else, he was never voted coach of the year.
He brought the Celtics to the NBA Finals in four of his five seasons (and four years in a row).
His 1985-’86 team won 67 games and went 40–1 at home — and that wasn’t good enough.
His players adored him, especially Larry Bird.
“K.C. was the nicest man I ever met,” said French Lick’s finest. “He always went out of his way to make people feel good; it was an honor to play for him.”
He wasn’t finished.
“K.C. and I had so many wins together, including two championships, which remain highlights of my life. His accomplishments are too many to list, but, to me, his greatest accomplishment was being such an outstanding person to all who had the privilege of knowing him. I will miss him dearly.”
And it wasn’t as if Jones hadn’t enjoyed head coaching success before replacing Fitch on the Celtics bench in 1983-’84.
In 1974-’75, he coached Washington to a 60–22 record — a 13-game improvement over the previous season — beat the Celtics in the playoffs and made the finals. He lost the coach of the year vote to Phil Johnson who piloted the Kansas City-Omaha Kings to 44 wins.
Araton contends that racial typecasting was a factor.
Just one Black head coach won the Coach of the Year Award in its first 28 years (Ray Scott of the Detroit Pistons, 1973-’74) — and none in the 1980s.
The most reliable path for a Black man at the time to assume the head coaching reigns was to be a brand-name star in his playing market; think Russell in Boston, Willis Reed in New York and Lenny Wilkins in Seattle.
K.C. Jones was no headliner as a player: 7.4 ppg; and 4.3 apg over nine years.
But he played excellent defense, team basketball and he was fiercely loyal.
To his teammates and to the organization.
He was the model of humility, a man among men.
A legend, a pioneer and a superb basketball coach.
He certainly impressed Auerbach — a very harsh critic — who said of him, “The biggest thing you can say about K.C. is that he’s a winner.”
Truer words have ne’er been spoken.
There were and are few team sports winners like Auerbach.
Fewer like Russell.
Nobody like K.C. Jones.
[Editor’s Note: This piece was written by Mr. Kaplan in January 2021.]
