Many all-time greats believe the term “power forward” was invented by New York sportswriters looking for a way to describe Dave DeBusschere, who played every minute on the court with reckless abandon.
Tag Archives: Bob McAdoo
Dismantling the Buffalo Braves, 1977
Speaking of rebuilding, it might be instructive to dwell briefly on how the Braves were razed and/or disassembled in such a short time. It is somewhat disconcerting to note that there are exactly two players—count ‘em, two—remaining from the team, which opened league play a season ago, in the autumn of 1975: Randy Smith and Ernie DiGregorio.
Rick Mahorn’s Roman Holiday, 1992
Mahorn goes on, attending daily practices, playing one game a week, cultivating the mystery that has always been his calling card, Big Man, Big Mouth, yet with an underlying kindness that keeps you coming back to him, because you’re sure there’s a decent guy underneath all that bluster.
Boston Celtics: Something Old, Something New, 1981
Brown’s acquisition of the NBA‘s most-celebrated franchise was viewed from the start as a damnable irony. His meddlesome ways were strange to Chaney, who spent nine of his 11 pro seasons in the Celtic backcourt, and even stranger to Red Auerbach.
Lonnie Shelton: Reeding His Future in New York, 1977
Maybe Shelton will learn to love the Big Apple, just as he’s learning to cope with the big centers in the NBA.
Willis Reed: Managing The Knicks’ Special Agony, 1978
Just as he did as a player, Reed threw himself wholeheartedly into the job.
LaRue Martin: One for the Record Books, 1984
LaRue Martin doesn’t exactly consider it trivia. “I’m proud to have been the No. 1 draft choice, and it’s something they can’t take away from me,”
Bob McAdoo: Was He a One-Man Basketball Revolution? 1975
McAdoo is dangerous near the basket, but he also gets a lot of points on 15 and 20-foot jump shots, which he unleashes with a noticeable snap of the wrist, rather than a pushing maneuver.
John Shumate Comes Back, 1976
When it was over, Shumate staggered up the ramp and groped along the cinderblocks, stopping to steal the whirring in his head, resting it on a shelf that juts out into the corridor.
Bob McAdoo: Big Mac Attack, 1976
McAdoo does miss sometimes. But it’s no accident that he is probably the finest shooting big man pro basketball ever has seen.
From Way Downtown 