MUCH ADO ABOUT McADOO
Curry Kirkpatrick's story on Bob McAdoo (Shoot If You Must...I Must, Says McAdoo, March 8) neglected to mention one important point: the Braves have never won an NBA championship, even with "the hottest shot in the game."
In comparing Dave Cowens, Rick Barry and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar to McAdoo, the only thing accomplished is a comparison of three champions to an outstanding individual ballplayer. I don't know if McAdoo would trade his scoring titles for an NBA championship. McAdoo shows great admiration for himself. So does Muhammad Ali, but he is the champ.
G. J. FREDERICKS
Dave Cowens of Boston has it over Bob McAdoo in one important facet of the game: winning. This season Cowens has stifled McAdoo every time they have met, and the Celtics have beaten Buffalo four out of five times. The only time Buffalo won McAdoo didn't play.
What a pity it is that an athlete as talented as Bob McAdoo has to resort to obnoxious boasting in order to satisfy his ego.
As an avid basketball fan and player, I can appreciate McAdoo as one of the game's most outstanding talents. He has to be the best-shooting big man in the game, and his quickness and leaping ability make him dangerous around the boards. Yet, McAdoo is not a player without weakness. There are a number of other superstars in the pros with a lot going for them.
It would certainly be more realistic if McAdoo considered himself for what he is: not a star above stars, but a star among stars.
My thanks to SI and to Curry Kirkpatrick for the much deserved article on the finest player in the NBA today, Bob McAdoo. For 3� years Buffalo Bob has been proving to fans that he is the best thing to come along since the net. Now he can prove it to the whole country.
As Kareem Abdul-Jabbar said: "Nobody takes [shots] from where McAdoo does and hits."
E. D. PRUESSING
The Face of Pain (March 8) brought home to me a side of the athlete that had never before been quite real. Amid all the complaints about high salaries, sports fans should be made to realize that athletes are not robots: they are people, and their suffering extends beyond the final whistle. Never again will I heedlessly turn away from the television set when an athlete goes down on the field.
I have never been as moved by an article, in any periodical, at any time, as I was by The Face of Pain. You have explored a topic which, though universal, is seldom discussed.