The praise Lenny received in the past and the praise he is hearing again today are not hollow. Especially now that the words are not confined to a few hundred miles of the Puget Sound, we must begin to know that Durocher was wrong: good guys can finish first.
Lenny Wilkens, a handsome sort, smiles readily but speaks restrainedly, in a low voice, in sincere tone.
Can 80 percent of the old Baylor and an injury-haunted Jerry West revive a budding dynasty?
Let me tell you something—when you worry, three things happen. You get baldheaded, you get fat, and you have a heart attack. As for me, I’ll just keep on being an outlaw and doing the best I can.
He’s all grown up now, a good guy and a grand player and not about to let the bumps in the road bother him.
Walt Hazzard takes it in stride. He is sure he will be one of the stars of the game.
They’re dressed up like some wild fruit salad, but don’t let the uniform fool you. The Atlanta Hawks are more swat than swish.
Today, Pete Maravich is remembered as one of the iconic NBA figures of the 1970s. Less well known is that Maravich entered the 1970 NBA draft as the college superstar whom nobody wanted. For most NBA general managers, drafting Maravich seemed about as dangerous as volunteering to stand blindfolded before a firing squad. The danger came not from Pistol Pete. He was considered a good kid. It was the double-barreled barrage of attention behind him that would be unsurvivable.