Willis Reed, The Captain

If you’re tired of reading my ill-informed and off-base commentaries on the misfits, miscreants and morons that make up our elected class, if you’re hoping for some positivity and inspiration by extraordinary individual leadership, then don’t click away from this blog, at least not yet.

This past week, a former basketball player for the New York Knicks, Willis Reed, passed away at age 80.

For New York sports fans of my dotage, his greatness needs no explanation.  But I do recognize that some of my loyal subscribers are not only younger than me, but may be not as steeped in New York basketball lore as I am.

So please listen to the legend of Willis Reed and allow yourselves to believe in the power of a true leader.

The year was 1970 and the “new” Madison Square Garden was the epicenter of the basketball universe.  When that Garden was a rockin’, everyone came a knockin’.  (Yikes, did I actually write that?)  But that’s what is was like.  

The Knicks had assembled an amazing team.  In addition to Reed at center, a young Walt Frazier played guard.  “Clyde”, the cool-handed, mutton chopped steal-specialist, whose sartorial splendor was second to none.  The veteran Dick Barnett complemented Clyde with his sweet rock-back-baby jump shot.  Bill Bradley, was the Princeton-educated forward who would become a US Senator from New Jersey.  Dollar Bill was in constant motion away from the ball.  Phil Jackson, the future hall of fame coach, came off the bench, harassing opponents by windmilling his gangly arms, his shoulders looking like they evolved from coat hangers.  And there was Dave DeBusschere, the clutch, hard-nosed, working class forward who feared no one.

They were coached by a gruff-talking Jewish guy from Cedarhurst, Long Island named William “Red” Holtzman.  Red preached the gospel of “see the ball,” of precise passing, teamwork, and a laser focus on fundamentals.

Together, these guys created magic on the Garden court.  They broke the NBA’s record for most consecutive wins with 18 and they were on the precipice of a first-ever Knicks championship.

But to wear the crown they needed to vanquish the hated and talent-laden Los Angeles Lakers led by Wilt Chamberlain, Jerry West and Elgin Baylor, all future hall of famers themselves.

The championship series was tied at three, with the deciding game seven at a crazed MSG.  But for the Knicks, the challenge seemed insurmountable.  In game five, their captain, their leader, Willis Reed, sustained a very bad thigh injury.  He could barely walk, let alone play.  Without Reed, the Knicks got creamed in game six.  Without Willis Reed, it looked like another year would pass without a championship.

I was 14 years old on that night of May 8, 1970. I was watching the game on TV, on Channel 7, watching my team warm up with diminishing hope they could win without Willis.

The Garden crowd was stone silent during the warmups, wondering if The Captain would play.  And then, and then, he emerged from the tunnel, not walking but dragging that right leg with the torn muscle, and the crowd went insane.  A roar from the seats as if the messiah himself was about to stride onto the court.  

His teammates greeted him and his opponents’ jaws dropped.  At home, I’m standing up, not fully realizing I’m witnessing a monumental moment in New York sports history.  Hey, I’m only 14!

But there was more to this saga.  As the team’s center, Willis was guarding Wilt Chamberlain, the greatest offensive player in the NBA at that time.  Guarding him on one leg.  Willis was running and dragging the leg.  Shooting and hitting jump shots.  His teammates said they were floating on air, in awe of their courageous captain.  They didn’t want to let him down.  Willis Reed engendered that type of devotion because he embodied courage, leadership and loyalty.

Willis Reed could only play a few minutes in that championship game.  He hit his first two shots and then had to sit down.  But those first few minutes propelled his fellow players to immortality.  Clyde Frazier had the game of his life with 36 points.  As he said many years later, Reed “was the catalyst for us, because we were a team that were doubtful we could win without him.  So, when we saw him we perked up and like, we can do it.”

Willis Reed was already an all-star, a most valuable player before that historic game 7.  But his monumental courage that night made him a legend.

When I heard that Willis Read died,  I was sad not only because it’s been more than fifty years since I watched number 19 emerge from the tunnel at MSG.  Where have the years gone?  I was also saddened thinking, where have the inspirational leaders gone?  The women and men who can motivate, exhilarate and elevate those around them. Who, by just their mere presence, can turn ordinary people into champions. 

I’m not sure our society allows for that anymore.  We are too frozen in our ideologies, too partisan and too petty to allow for anyone to propel us toward greatness.   

Willis Reed was a kind, modest man who became a warrior when he needed to.  When we thought all hope was gone, that the odds were unforgivingly stacked against us, Willis limped onto that Madison Square Garden basketball court and transformed us into champions.

This 14 year old kid thanks you, Willis.  RIP, Captain.