They All Boo When Red Sits Down

"Right now I can't visualize I can do better than my three rookies this year," Auerbach said. "They were ninth, 18th and 27th choices, and they stayed with my championship ball club. I did make a slight mistake with Willis Reed. [Reed was picked 10th by New York and was runner-up in the Rookie of the Year voting.] I saw him play once and he didn't do too much. That brings out my theory—you got to see them twice."

Auerbach then began to brood about the two straight losses the Celtics had suffered; he said he was finding it hard to keep the team up since they had clinched the Eastern Division title. "They're getting a little careless," he said. "Now's the time to lower the boom, but how can you? Now's the time to open your heart." He considered calling a practice for the following morning. One of Auerbach's rules is that a player must attend a practice even if he says he doesn't feel well enough to participate. Auerbach learned that trick as a high school gym teacher. He found that there were fewer excuses if he made every boy take a shower whether or not he actually took gym. Auerbach also forbids his players to eat pancakes. "We all have our peculiarities," he says. "One morning, I caught Sam Jones eating pancakes. 'Well, that bite cost you five dollars,' I said. 'What's your next move?' " And Auerbach disapproves of his players drinking whiskey. "If they're in a cocktail lounge and there are glasses of ginger ale in front of them, I fine them right away. I can't taste every drink. Let them drink beer!" Auerbach has no curfew, however. As Tommy Heinsohn says, "If you have a curfew, it makes it a contest. The player tries to beat the coach instead of being on his side. Red lets us live the life we think best for a professional ballplayer."

With the death last year of Walter Brown, the Celtics' president, Auerbach took on the title of general manager as well as that of coach and scout, and last week he became part owner of the club. He finds having so many titles convenient in his dealings with his players. For example, the other day Russell said to Auerbach, "I'd like to ask you something." Auerbach knew it was going to be a request for a little favor. "I don't want to discuss it," Auerbach said. "Why not?" Russell said. "'Because you're talking to the general manager now, and you went over the coach's head."

Auerbach doubts whether he will continue coaching for more than two years. "I'd like to get my thousand wins," he said. "I don't believe too much in records, but they give you an excuse to push yourself—another silly motivating factor. You're tired, you're tired. There is a tendency to get a little blas� with so many games. After about 1,400 games, who can remember? But what you do remember is how hard it was to get each individual win. Ft scares you. Some of my pregame talks at this stage are ridiculous. As Heinsohn says, 'I'm running out of oratory.' Once, after a game, Russell came over to me and said, 'You know, your pep talk wasn't too inspiring today.' 'That's right,' I said, 'and neither was your play.' "

The Celtics started to drift into Convention Hall, trailed by small boys with ballpoint pens. "You know one thing I've learned after all these years," Auerbach said, "I've learned how to write my autograph on one sheet of paper. Toilet paper. A napkin. You see, you rest the sheet of paper on your index finger, like this. Another thing I've learned is that when these kids hand you the pen, they never push the little button down."

One of the boys approached Auerbach, asked him for his autograph and gave him a scrap of paper and a pen. Auerbach laid the paper on his index finger and began to write. Then, smiling, he pushed the little button down and deftly signed his name.