Summer of '68: The Season That Changed Baseball--And America--Forever by Tim Wendel Page A
Authors: Tim Wendel
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situation go. Undoubtedly, he realized that the last person Gibson wanted to hear from at that moment was a white man, who had grown up in Memphis of all places. Yet McCarver told Gibson that it was possible for people to change. If anything, he was Exhibit A. Back when McCarver was new to the team, Gibson and Curt Flood had ribbed him about his reluctance to share a sip of soda offered by a black man. McCarver had seen a lot of truth in their teasing. Perhaps that’s why he wouldn’t let things drop after King’s death. In talking with Gibson, McCarver found himself in “the unfamiliar position of arguing that the races were equal and that we were all the same.”
Years later, McCarver wrote that “Bob and I reached a meeting of the minds that morning. That was the kind of talk we often had on the Cardinals.”
Of course, baseball wasn’t the only sport in America reeling after King’s assassination. The civil rights leader’s death occurred just before the opening of the National Basketball Association’s Eastern Division Finals between the Philadelphia 76ers and the Boston Celtics. The year before, Philadelphia had eliminated the Celtics, who had won nine titles in the past ten seasons. In 1968, the 76ers continued their newfound dominance, winning a league-best sixty-two games and finishing eight games ahead of Boston in the Eastern Division. Philadelphia center Wilt Chamberlain was the league’s MVP, averaging an astounding 24.3 points and 23.8 rebounds per game.
“Everywhere we went, especially in Philadelphia, they had a chant, ‘Boston’s Dead. Boston’s Dead.’ The dynasty is over,” recalled John Havlicek, the Celtics’ Hall of Fame forward. “You’d hear it at the airport when you got off the plane in Philadelphia. The cab drivers would be on you, riding you a little. Everywhere you went, the fans were real vocal.”
After King’s death, Chamberlain and Bill Russell, the Celtics’ player-coach and the only African American coach in U.S. sports that year, met before Game One of that best-of-seven series. The decision was made to play on, with the second contest delayed from Sunday to the following Wednesday. Not that it seemed to matter, at least for Boston’s chances.
Even though the Celtics took the opener, the 76ers proceeded to run off with the series, winning three consecutive victories to take a 3–1 lead. Indeed, the chant appeared to be correct: it was the end of Boston’s epic run. Even Celtics’ general manager Red Auerbach sensed the series was perhaps over. Before the next game in Philadelphia, he nodded at Russell, saying, “There are some people who have already forgotten how great that man really was.”
Despite being down three games to one, Russell and the Celtics battled back to deadlock the series. The Celtics’ Larry Siegfried remembered Russell as a man of few words. But when the player-coach spoke, he was “direct and precise.” When the team fell behind to Wilt Chamberlain and the 76ers, Russell simply told his team, “We’ve come so far and I don’t want to go home now.”
The Celtics rallied to take Game Five in Philadelphia, 122–104, and Game Six back home in Boston, 114–106.
Before the 1967–1968 regular season began, Russell had gathered together a half-dozen of the team’s veterans during an exhibition tour in Puerto Rico. “He wanted our help—he wanted to tap that knowledge,” John Havlicek later told George Plimpton of Sports Illustrated . “Of course he told us that his would be the final decision. It helped a lot. He told us to criticize him if we felt he warranted it.”
In 1968, the Eastern Conference’s seventh and deciding game returned to Philadelphia. Before the opening tip Russell strode to the jump circle with purpose. “Other players would be slapping each other and pumping themselves up,” he wrote in his autobiography Second Wind , “but I’d always take my time and walk out slowly, my arms folded in front of
Years later, McCarver wrote that “Bob and I reached a meeting of the minds that morning. That was the kind of talk we often had on the Cardinals.”
Of course, baseball wasn’t the only sport in America reeling after King’s assassination. The civil rights leader’s death occurred just before the opening of the National Basketball Association’s Eastern Division Finals between the Philadelphia 76ers and the Boston Celtics. The year before, Philadelphia had eliminated the Celtics, who had won nine titles in the past ten seasons. In 1968, the 76ers continued their newfound dominance, winning a league-best sixty-two games and finishing eight games ahead of Boston in the Eastern Division. Philadelphia center Wilt Chamberlain was the league’s MVP, averaging an astounding 24.3 points and 23.8 rebounds per game.
“Everywhere we went, especially in Philadelphia, they had a chant, ‘Boston’s Dead. Boston’s Dead.’ The dynasty is over,” recalled John Havlicek, the Celtics’ Hall of Fame forward. “You’d hear it at the airport when you got off the plane in Philadelphia. The cab drivers would be on you, riding you a little. Everywhere you went, the fans were real vocal.”
After King’s death, Chamberlain and Bill Russell, the Celtics’ player-coach and the only African American coach in U.S. sports that year, met before Game One of that best-of-seven series. The decision was made to play on, with the second contest delayed from Sunday to the following Wednesday. Not that it seemed to matter, at least for Boston’s chances.
Even though the Celtics took the opener, the 76ers proceeded to run off with the series, winning three consecutive victories to take a 3–1 lead. Indeed, the chant appeared to be correct: it was the end of Boston’s epic run. Even Celtics’ general manager Red Auerbach sensed the series was perhaps over. Before the next game in Philadelphia, he nodded at Russell, saying, “There are some people who have already forgotten how great that man really was.”
Despite being down three games to one, Russell and the Celtics battled back to deadlock the series. The Celtics’ Larry Siegfried remembered Russell as a man of few words. But when the player-coach spoke, he was “direct and precise.” When the team fell behind to Wilt Chamberlain and the 76ers, Russell simply told his team, “We’ve come so far and I don’t want to go home now.”
The Celtics rallied to take Game Five in Philadelphia, 122–104, and Game Six back home in Boston, 114–106.
Before the 1967–1968 regular season began, Russell had gathered together a half-dozen of the team’s veterans during an exhibition tour in Puerto Rico. “He wanted our help—he wanted to tap that knowledge,” John Havlicek later told George Plimpton of Sports Illustrated . “Of course he told us that his would be the final decision. It helped a lot. He told us to criticize him if we felt he warranted it.”
In 1968, the Eastern Conference’s seventh and deciding game returned to Philadelphia. Before the opening tip Russell strode to the jump circle with purpose. “Other players would be slapping each other and pumping themselves up,” he wrote in his autobiography Second Wind , “but I’d always take my time and walk out slowly, my arms folded in front of
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