Nellie among NBA's most memorable 'mad scientists'

	Red Auerbach was the driving force behind the NBA's shift to a more entertaining style of play in the mid-1950s. AP

My colleague Ian Thomsen's piece on Golden State got me to thinking about the great "mad scientists" the NBA has known, of which the Warriors' Don Nelson is most assuredly one. Mad, of course, is a relative term. While college basketball has embraced lovable loons like Abe Lemons, pro teams have this thing about winning and the bottom line. So this week's five-pack of "mad scientists" were all winners ... with one notable exception.

Red Auerbach

There would seem to be nothing mad, only crusty, about the Shamrocks' once and forever king. But return with us now to the 1954-55 season, and, no, Bill Russell was not yet on the roster.

The NBA had instituted a 24-second clock that season, trying to rid itself of results such as the Fort Wayne Piston' 19-18 win over the Minneapolis Lakers in 1950 or the Syracuse Nationals-New York Knickerbockers playoff game in 1954 when free throws outnumbered field goals 75-34. Back then, a team would get a lead and simply sit on the ball until the opposition fouled to get it back. The NBA was dying when, in desperation, it came up with the 24-second clock.

The league hoped that the time constraint would open up offenses, but some skeptics were doubtful. Not Auerbach. He instructed his Celtics to run at every opportunity. They became the first team in league history to score more than 100 points per game; their 101.4 average was six points better than the Lakers, who had vastly superior talent. With Russell grabbing rebounds and firing the outlet pass, Auerbach kept on running the next season, pushing the Celtics' average to 106 points. He eventually transformed the league into a fast-break show that was highly entertaining.

Don't think of Auerbach as a cigar-chewing traditionalist. He moved the dial in a big way that a lot of people thought was crazy.

Hubie Brown

There is not one thing that stamps Hubie's madness over a quarter century of coaching, only a general, well, madness. He came storming into the ABA out of college ball in the mid-'70s ready to challenge players, referees and other coaches. He never backed down. He had a way of looking at you with his chin up, almost daring you to take a poke at him.

He was widely recognized -- still is -- as the master of drills, and brought that Five-Star-Basketball-Camp mentality to the pro game. He charted things that the pros never thought about, like deflections and percentage of successful fast breaks. He played a slow-down style if he didn't feel he had the horses, but, if he did, he would let out the throttle. He used a 10-man rotation for a couple of years in Atlanta in the mid-'80s, which was rare.

His greatest legacy was the list of protégés that followed him into the league, including Frank Layden, Mike Fratello and Rick Pitino. They were all fast-talking, X-ing and O-ing mad scientists cloned from the master.