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the net-ripping, backboard-shaking, mind-blowing dr. j.
Peter Garry
December 11, 1972
Last March, at the conclusion of his old school's disappointing basketball season, Julius Erving (left, illustrating two of his resplendent dunks) returned to the University of Massachusetts. He had left there the previous spring, at the end of his junior year, to become a professional basketball player, his premature departure shattering the dreams of U Mass fans who had hoped he would lead the school to some modest level of national acclaim in 1971-72. Under those circumstances, most men in Erving's position would have slunk through a side door, but Massachusetts had invited him in the front way to watch as they retired his uniform. And to listen as they cheered him, which is what a banquet gathering of 150 did—on its feet. "I never saw so many people who thought so much of a kid," remembers Al Bianchi, the coach of the Virginia Squires, who accompanied his rookie forward to the ceremonies. "There was a lot of concern for him up there. Not about his play, but about him. "Don't let him get out of hand,' they said. 'We don't think he will, but make sure he doesn't.' To reassure them, I told them, 'Julie still wears the same size hat he did when he first came to us.' "
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December 11, 1972

The Net-ripping, Backboard-shaking, Mind-blowing Dr. J.

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Another reason Erving has been dunking less this year is because defenses now sag away from him to prevent his drive and to force him to take his still improving jumper. But his drives, rebounds and passes are still full of extraordinary displays of body control. He is a dart coming off the defensive backboard. He will often grab a rebound with his trailing hand as he twists in midair, propelling his body far out into the lane—and far beyond startled opponents—to kick off the break. On drives, he switches the ball from one hand to the other so easily that he draws far fewer fouls than he deserves. The hand change makes it difficult for the defense to hack him as he shoots, and referees rarely call fouls to the lower body, which is where opponents really operate on the Doctor.

And he still has his moments of brilliant creativity, instances, says Ray Wilson, when Erving should be playing on canvas. In a recent game against San Diego, Erving leaped far out from the board with a defensive rebound, and as opponents have begun to do this season to prevent Dr. J. from taking off on the fast break, one of the Conquistadors jumped in front of him as he went back up in the air to pass. The right-handed lob he planned to throw would have been deflected, so Erving, still airborne, turned 360°, changed hands and flipped a high left-handed pass off his hip before he landed. The ball sailed over the retreating defense and dropped into the hands of Squire Bernie Williams, who took it at full speed and scored a layup.

Later that night, San Diego Assistant Coach Stan Albeck walked up to Erving's table in a Norfolk restaurant. "Man, I thought I'd seen everything," he said. "But that 360° job! Nobody's ever done anything like that. It was unbelievable."

"Thanks," said Dr. J. "It was the only way that I was able to get the job done." And of course, he did it with no sweat.

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