There's No Place Like Home Court

What the coach was plotting put the lie to the theory that Shue is as prominent an airhead as his team's performances sometimes indicate. By the simple inversion of the 76er offense—6'11" Center Caldwell Jones bringing the ball upcourt while the team's guards scatter and hide—Shue planned to diffuse the Portland press, force Walton to defend away from the basket and take pressure off his own backcourt men, Collins and Henry Bibby.

After this happened exactly as planned in the first game, after the 76ers had won 107-101 with Bibby derailing Portland's Hollins on defense and with Collins (30 points) lighting up Hollins like a pinball machine at the other end, Shue was proclaimed a genius and the hot-dogging Jones considered the very model of a cross between Oscar Robertson and Oscar Mayer.

In truth, the only surprise was how confused the normally smart and poised Trail Blazers seemed to be in the face of a strategy that originated somewhere back in kindergarten ball. Not only did Hollins and the swift Davis have trouble finding somebody to guard, but they also managed to take themselves out of the Portland offense, scoring only five baskets, and being responsible for most of the 34 Trail Blazer turnovers.

That would have been enough to guarantee a 76er victory. For good measure, Erving danced and pranced, beginning his first NBA championship round with a flying dunk off the opening jump ball and finishing with 33 points, including four other slams and a few layups.

The presence of Walton and his new GI John Singlaub haircut was supposed to be an effective deterrent to Erving's sky-diving forays, but Dr. J was not impressed. "I'll challenge anybody. Either go over him or trick him," said Erving. "It's one thing to respect a man, but I'm not going to overrespect him."

Actually, Walton played more than respectably—28 points and 20 rebounds—but afterward he sat silently, only mumbling his objections to Brent Musburger's repetitious use of the nickname "Mountain Man" on CBS-TV.

"Big guy, big guy, big guy," Musburger kept saying, his arm around Walton. "It's O.K. I didn't mean it, big guy."

"I heard the tapes," said Big Guy. "I'm sensitive."

In Game Two, a 107-89 Philadelphia romp, Walton seemed not so much mountainous as out to lunch. Apparently confused as the 76ers alternated Jones and Dawkins, Walton was outscored 18-17 and outrebounded 19-16 by the two centers.

Along with Maurice Lucas, Walton also failed to score in the crucial second quarter when the 76ers—those same wealthy, spoiled, egocentric, selfish monsters who are not supposed to know how to spell t-e-a-m—ran and shot and passed and juked and jived like long-lost blood brothers to 14 points in 3� minutes for a 61-43 halftime lead.