[剪報] Bird舊文一篇
'As Nearly Perfect As You Can Get'
In a glorious seventh season, Larry Bird of the Boston Celtics
is demonstrating that he may be the NBA's best player of all time
By Jack McCallum
Issue date: March 3, 1986
There has never been a basketball player quite like the Celtics'
Larry Joe Bird, in whom talent and tenacity rage a daily wire-to-wire
battle for supremacy. Owing to the extraordinary importance of the
giant pivotman in the game, it is probably impossible to declare
that, in his seventh season, the 6' 9", 220-pound Bird, a forward,
is greater than Bill Russell, Wilt Chamberlain or Kareem
Abdul-Jabbar—that is, the greatest player of all time. Or maybe
it isn't.
（圖片）
Other competitors stand in awe of Bird's tenacity and iron will.
As Atlanta's Dominique Wilkins says: "Look in his eyes and you see
a killer." (Richard Mackson)
"Before Bird I used to vacillate," says Bob Cousy, now a Celtics
broadcaster. "The question didn't seem relevant. But Bird came
along with all the skills, all the things a basketball player
has to do. I think he's the greatest." Chimes in Milwaukee Bucks
coach Don Nelson, "He's the best player ever to play the game."
And there comes this weighty word from Westwood. "I've always
considered Oscar Robertson to be the best player in the game,"
says John Wooden. "Now I'm not so sure that Larry Bird isn't."
Even Laker general manager Jerry West, who refuses to compare
players from different eras, says of Bird, "He is as nearly
perfect as you can get in almost every phase of basketball."
Bird's play over the recent weeks has revealed an athlete at the
height of his powers. When Kevin McHale went down with a heel
injury, Bird just gritted his teeth, stooped and hefted McHale's
load to his shoulders. In the Celtics' eight games since the
All-Star break, Bird has averaged 30.8 points, 13.1 rebounds and
7.8 assists. But those are only numbers, and numbers don't
necessarily provide a true picture when one is comparing players
from different eras. "The one thing you have to avoid when you
talk about Bird is statistics," says Red Auerbach. "It's his
presence, the total way he commands attention on the court, that
counts." Indeed, Bird reserves a spot in his personal hell (a place
with no basketball courts) for the guy who plays with one eye on the
stat sheet. "And there are a lot of them in this league," he says.
"We've even had some here."
Inasmuch as the Celtics, with a best-in-the-league record of 43-11,
have hardly missed a beat without McHale, Bird has to be the leading
contender for his thrid straight MVP award, an accomplishment achieved
in the NBA by only Russell and Chamberlain. Bird can probably count on
Jack Ramsay's vote. After Bird struck for 47 points (including the game
winner in overtime), 14 rebounds and 11 assists at Portland on Feb. 14,
the Trail Blazer coach, a man not given to overstatement, called him
"the greatest clutch player of all time." Five nights later, after Bird
ravaged Golden State for 36 points, 12 rebounds and 11 assists, Warrior
head man John Bach went scurrying for his dictionary. "Bird's a
hermaphrodite," he said. Bird might raise an eyebrow at that word, but
Bach meant, in Webster's sense, "something that is a combination of
diverse elements."
"As an all-around player, there's never been anyone better," said Pacer
coach George Irvine, the victim of a 30-11-12 Bird line Sunday night
(his sixth triple-double of the season). "A unique phenomenon," says
San Antonio veteran Artis Gilmore of Bird.
If Auerbach will turn his head for a moment, it can be noted that Bird
is the only player listed among the season leaders in five statistical
categories. They include, of course, scoring (fifth at 25.3) and
rebounding (ninth at 10.1), but these don't begin to address his
uniqueness. He's the third-leading free-throw shooter at 89.3% and
the only full-time player in the top six. A man's free-throw accuracy
tends to decrease with playing time, but that doesn't hold for the
indefatiguable Bird, who said last week, "I have only one real goal
in this league: to play every minute of every single game." (He
averages 38.9 minutes and hasn't missed a game this season; in the
preseason, Bird's back had been so bad that he had "almost counted
out the whole year.") The top three-point shooters in the league are
small, jump-shooting guards ... except for Bird and Dallas forward
Dale Ellis. Lightning-quick black athletes—such as Alvin Robertson,
Clyde Drexler, Maurice Cheeks and Isiah Thomas—are the league leaders
in steals ... except for Bird, in eighth place with 2.19, the slow,
white guy, the guy whom Portland's Mychal Thompson admiringly calls
"the greatest white player to play a black man's sport." Amazing.
Can it be said that, at the very least, Bird is the best forward ever?
"No question," says Bullets coach Gene Shue. "There will be no one to
compare with Oscar Robertson and Jerry West at guard and Bird at
forward." Many agree. Others, who insist that longevity must be
considered, still favor Elgin Baylor, citing his excellence over
14 seasons, and a smaller group gives the nod to 15-year veteran
Julius Erving for his seminal stylistic contributions. But the facts
point to Bird. He doesn't defy gravity in the manner of Baylor and
Erving, it's nomenclature that he kicks the absolute hell out of.
"Bird is a totally unique player," says Pete Newell, Golden State's
director of player personnel and one of the game's keenest minds.
"There has never been a forward who does so many things so well."
In the final analysis it may be simply impossible to compare Bird
with others at his position, the ultimate compliment. "The only
comparison that comes to mind is Oscar, a guard," says Bach. "But
even Robertson didn't possess Bird's shooting range or rebounding
ability.
Bird, who has never been accused of false modesty, clings to the
position (publicly at least) that Magic Johnson is the game's best
active player. "He makes his teammates better to a greater degree
than I do. It's his character, not just his abilities," says Bird.
But the same is true of Bird who, at age the age of 29, at last
seems comfortable with being Larry Bird. And just who is that?
First of all, it's someone who plays with a a recklessness and
intensity that are as unfathomable as they are unfashionable.
With time running out in the first half of the Golden State game
last week, Bird crashed into the seats in pursuit of a loose
ball—there are any number of All-Stars who wouldn't do that in
the fourth quarter of a playoff game. It's someone who, like
Muhammad Ali, challenges himself by boasting. Last year in the
fifth game of the Eastern Conference final agains Detroit, Bird
stared at Isiah Thomas, who had just led a Piston charge, and
said, "Are you through?"
"No," said Thomas.
"Well, you're through now because it's my turn," said Bird. And
it was. Bird took over the game, and the Celtics won 130-123.
It's someone who, though disciplined and studious in his approach
to the game, lives for its spontaneity and freshness. "I think
Larry gets bored out there sometimes," says teammate Danny Ainge.
"I notice that he passes up these incredibly easy shots, and you
can sense him thinking, 'Well, why don't I drive down the lane,
get a few guys on me and see what happens?'" Bird confirms that.
"It happens. I do get bored. Then I look for a way to make it
interesting," he says.
He has been able to make it interesting for a variety of reasons,
reasons that transcend whatever he lacks in natural quickness and
jumping ability. "Trying to get a book on Larry Bird," says Pacer
assistant Mel Daniels, "is like trying to get a harness on the wind.
You come up with nothing." Here's why he's the best player in the
game today and, quite possibly, the best ever:
SHOOTING Above all, it is Bird's ability to hit a shot under
pressure that makes him great. Scott Wedman may beat him in
H-O-R-S-E now and then, and Ainge took him for $35 in a game
two weeks ago in Seattle, but turn on the TV lights and put
15,000 hostile fans in the seats and Bird has no peer. His
winning 18-of-25 performance in the three-point field-goal
contest on NBA All-Star Game weekend proved that. "When I found
out Birdie could make 10 grand shooting baskets in one afternoon,"
said McHale, "I knew it was all over."
Bird does take—and miss—many low-percentage shots, horrible shots
that would earn a lesser player pine time. But that is part of his
game, part of his aura. He is constantly communicating the idea that
he can do anything out there, and indeed, some of his off-balance
uglies go in. "I'm like a gymnast," says Bird. "I'm into degree of
difficulty."
PUMP FAKES AND STEP-BACKS No one has as many moves to set up a shot
as Bird. "Sometimes I fake myself out," he says. But that's rare.
Says Wedman, "Larry makes the defensive man play him. After a while,
his man doesn't know whether he's coming or going." Bird's quick
release and set-shot motion make possible his moves—his actual shot
looks just like his ball fake. "I think the key to his repertoire is
his step-back move," says Clipper assistant Don Casey. "He opens the
distance between himself and his defensive man very quickly. Then the
defensive man steps up even more quickly to close it, gets off-balance,
and Bird's around him." Indeed, when Bird goes into his assortment of
fakes, he often leaves a trail of defenders who look like they're in a
pogo-stick competition, as he did last week against the Warriors when
he got Purvis Short, then Larry Smith up in the air before going around
them both to score.
AMBIDEXTERITY By unofficial count, seven of Bird's 21 field goals against
Portland on Feb. 14 were shot with his left hand. Newell calls his ability
in that area "phenomenal." San Antonio's David Greenwood, a former Bull,
remembers a game in Chicago in which Bord was calling out his wrong-handed
shots. "'Left hand, left hand,' he kept yelling," said Greenwood. "And he
hit everything, including a lefthander while going out of bounds." Bird
does eat and write with his left hand, but so do many other athletes
(teammate Bill Walton, for one) who don't have Bird's lefthanded athletic
abilities. The simple truth is that he has worked long and hard developing
a lefthanded shot, and the awful truth for opponenets is that he's getting
better at it.
PASSING Can there be any doubt that Bird is the best passing forward in
history, better even than the creative Rick Barry? No, says Newell. "He's
got to be one of the best passers of all time, including guards." In an
open-court fast break, Magic Johnson is still more effective, but in most
other situations the nod goes to Bird. Lately, without the injured McHale
in the Celtic lineup, Bird has been doing a lot of posting up down low,
getting the ball and deliberately, very deliberately, drawing players
over to himself before he zips the ball crosscourt to Dennis Johnson,
Ainge, Wedman or Jerry Sichting for the open jumper. Or he'll try the
exotic. Against the Warriors, possibly in one of his bored moments, he
drove slowly to the corner and picked up a triple-team. The next thing
Walton knew, the ball was coming to him from between Joe Barry Carroll's
legs. "I'm not sure how I did that one myself," said Bird. Says Cousy,
"I think we could both throw, not the unorthodox pass, but the unexpected
pass."
REBOUNDING Two of the most fierce rebounding forwards in NBA history are
Paul Silas and Maurice Lucas, both with career averages of 9.85. Bird is
better. Hard to believe, isn't it? McHale says, "The key to his rebounding
is the strength in his hands." Newell: "He epitomizes what you try to
teach—position, getting the ball at its highest point and going forward
when you get the ball." Bird: "Most rebounds are taken below the rim.
That's where I get mine."
PERFORMING IN THE CLUTCH One comment from Auerbach says it all. "The
best I've ever had in rising to the occasion were Cousy, [John] Havlicek
and Russell. And Larry goes beyond them in that particular phase of the
game. He wants the ball, and he knows what the hell to do with it."
PLAYING HARD Here's a sequence from the first half of last week's
Celtic-Nugget game. Bird, the lone defender on a three-on-one Denver
break, deflects a pass. He dives to the floor, comes up with the ball
and, from his knees, tosses to Wedman to start a Celtic fast break.
"Look in his eyes," says Atlanta's Dominique Wilkins, "and you see a
killer."
THE MENTAL GAME Piston coach Chuck Daly remembers Bird drilling a jumper
in front of the Piston bench two seasons ago, then stepping back and
"knocking me ass over tin cups. I think he did it purposely. He's just
a tough guy. He has almost the perfect attitude." Even before he made
11 straight in the three-point shootout at the All-Star Game, Bird, in
all likelihood, had the contest won in the locker room when he told the
seven other competitors, "All right, who's playing for second?" When
your boasts are empty, you're a weenie and a stiff. When you back them
up, you're a legend. Bird has become a legend.
AT THIS POINT, Bird seems unconcerned with reserving a throne in the
NBA pantheon. He never saw the great forwards of the past, the Baylors
and Bob Pettits—Schayes to him is the Nuggets' Danny, not the Syracuse
Nationals' Dolph—and has watched only a few film clips of Barry, a
superstar of more recent vintage. "All I know is that people tend to
forget how great the older players were," says Bird. "It'll happen that
way with me, too." He has never been much of a student of history and,
anyway, today is looking pretty bright. He's the epicenter of a winning
team, a happy team, a loose team.
"I can still see Larry getting on the bus after a shoot-around,"
remembers teammate Rick Carlisle, "and saying, 'Well, we just got done
shooting basketball. Now it's time to go to our free hotel, have a free
meal, then play the game. It's a tough life.' To Larry, this is special.
He loves it. He couldn't imagine doing anything else."
"He is happy playing basketball," says McHale, "but one thing I know is
that you won't see Larry in his 15th season getting 20 minutes. And you
shouldn't. I don't want him to be the Everly Brothers, hanging around
after their prime. Larry Bird is like Elvis. He's got to get out while
he's still the King."
Bird, who after this season will have four years remaining on a contract
that pays him $1.8 million per year, has thought about the end. "I feel
that I could play six more years at this level," he says. "But it'll
probably be four. Red said that after that period of time, 10, 11 years,
you tend to lose it. And I know I don't want to leave with a lot of pain."
Then he shrugs. "Of course, maybe what I should tell Red is that I'm
different than a lot of people he's coached."
--
※ 發信站: 批踢踢實業坊(ptt.csie.ntu.edu.tw)
◆ From: 61.216.51.172
Celtics 近期熱門文章
105
204
PTT體育區 即時熱門文章
113
145
18
27
