The Passing of a Basketball Pioneer

In the last few minutes of a Boston Celtics game, when the Celtics had the game well in hand, their coach, brash and visionary, sat on the bench, leaned back, and lit a cigar.

It was cocky and arrogant to many, but to Arnold “Red” Auerbach (Getty Images), it made perfect sense.

“It’s like this,” he once told the Boston Globe. “I got sick and tired of coaches playing for the T.V. They’d be 20 points ahead with two minutes to go, and they’d be calling plays, waving their arms, showing off. My feeling was, when you knew the game was over, then sit down and shut up.”

Perhaps it is fitting that, when I learned of Auerbach’s death tonight, I was watching “Glory Road,” a movie about a basketball coach who breaks down racial barriers.

Red Auerbach did that, too. He drafted the first black player in the N.B.A. in 1950. Bill Russell, whom he chose to succeed him in 1966, was the N.B.A.’s first black coach. The Boston Celtics, under Auerbach, started the N.B.A.’s first all-black lineup, two years before Don Haskins team beat the University of Kentucky in the 1966 N.C.A.A. Championship game.

But Red’s greatest legacy is winning. With the Celtics, he won 16 N.B.A. titles, 9 as a coach, and 7 as an executive.

The Associated Press quoted an anonymous N.B.A. official who said that Auerbach suffered a heart attack today in Washington. He had been sick for quite some time, but his death still came as a shock.

“I never thought he’d die,” John Feinstein told the A.P. “He was a unique personality, a combination of toughness and great, great caring about people. He cared about people much more than it showed in his public face, and that’s why people cared about him.”

Auerbach, born in 1917 in Brooklyn, was twice a graduate of The George Washington University, a B.S. in education in 1940, followed by a M.A. in education a year later—he also, in 1993, received an honorary Doctorate of Public Service degree.

Over the past 15 years, Auerbach, who has lived in D.C. since his G.W. days, even commuting while coaching the Celtics, has been a constant presence in Foggy Bottom, particularly during basketball season.

In addition to being a season-ticket holder, Red has also been a friend and advisor to G.W. coaches past and present, former men’s coach Mike Jarvis, women’s coach Joe McKeown, and men’s coach Karl Hobbs (photo courtesy G.W.).

During my years at G.W., he was a quiet but constant presence at Smith Center, almost always seated at half-court. He was limited in those days, too, walking around the gym slowly with the help of a cane. A Celtic green cane, of course.

After the game, he would be helped into his sport utility vehicle on G Street Northwest—D.C. license plate “Celtic”—into the driver’s seat, even in his mid- to late-eighties.

This past season, his attendance was limited by health problems, and when he did make it to Smith Center, he was confined to a wheelchair.

Before a game in March 2005 against Saint Joseph’s, I asked Feinstein to sign a copy of his collaboration with Red, Let Me Tell You a Story: A Lifetime in the Game. Sure, I wanted Feinstein to sign it, but, more importantly, knowing his reputation for a certain crustiness, I wanted to know if I could get Red to sign it.

The 87-year-old man, Feinstein told me, would love to sign my book. I asked Feinstein if I should leave it with him, but Feinstein told me that I should just ask Red myself later that night.

So when the first half ended, I walked to the other side of the gym, clutching my book and a pen. I stood by the aisle for a few minutes before mustering up the courage the approach him.

“Excuse me, coach. I was wondering if you would be kind enough to sign my book.”

Absolutely. What’s your name?

I regret, other than that night and a few other assorted well-wishes around Smith Center over the years, that I never really got to know Red Auerbach. Not only was he a great Colonial, he, as Feinstein said today, “for all intents and purposes, invented professional basketball.”

The China Doll closed this past June, and combined with his health problems, Auerbach’s famous Tuesday lunches ended around the same time. His guests at those lunches always ranged from luminaries in sports and politics, but, this Tuesday, he’ll have his pick of the angels with whom to dine, not the least of whom are his wife, Dorothy, and his brother, Zangfeld.

Someone tell the universe’s head coach to order some Chinese food.