'nobody, But Nobody, Is Going To Hurt My Teammates'

"My fights come because I play so physical," says Lucas. "Guys don't like it and become highly upset. But I play clean physical. Never hit anybody in the face. I keep my blows between the neck and the belly button. My idea of 'enforcement'—if you have to call it that—is to establish an advantage over a guy that you'll have forever. Take Joe Frazier and Muhammad Ali. It took three monster sessions, but finally Frazier just gave up.

"I never try to hurt a guy. Just maybe wake him up. It usually comes from dirty stuff, like a guy will run by you and shoot you in the back, or he'll take an unnecessary swing while going for a rebound. I don't like to be the policeman. I'm a firm believer in 'you gotta fight your own battles.' Of course, I have to protect Bill [Walton] sometimes because guys are always taking shots at him. We won't fight, we'll just set a guy up and make a little sandwich out of him—POW!—wake him up. We've woken up Tommy Burleson a few times. Sam Lacey, Jim Eakins. We try to take care of it right away and not hold it in too long. That's not good for your mental health. To tell you the truth, I don't really know which players are dirty, because a lot of cats don't do to me what they do to everybody else...which I like."

Washington's knee injury midway through last season may have cost the Lakers a shot at the championship. But after eight months with his weights, he is stronger than ever. "I'm not a policeman," he says. "I'm not a fighter. I'm just trying to make a living for myself and my family. If I think someone is going to be taking food off my table, away from my family, I get mean. You have to establish yourself in this league. They will push you around if you can be pushed around. Some of us don't have the talent of the Dr. J's and the Kareem Abdul-Jabbars, so we have to do our jobs the best way we can. I'm just an aggressive guy trying to survive. Really."

Murphy, more than any of the enforcers, detests being known as a fighter. "One hundred percent of my victims attacked me," he says. Those victims, all thoroughly battered, included Wicks, Dale Schlueter (6'10"), Larry McNeill (6'9") and John Brown (6'7"). "I'm just an individual who believes in his rights and the rights of his team," Murphy says. "Nobody tries to poke you in the eye, but I'm right down there on the level where everybody is reaching for the ball. The first thing those big fellows do when they get the ball is swing. I know what's deliberate and what's accidental. As a little guard I have to be fiery. I have to make up for things I don't have. When I clench my fist to hit somebody I'm not making believe."

Fortunately, Murphy has seriously picked on only one man his own size, Seattle's bald-headed sprite. Slick Watts, who Murphy says is "a hypocrite" and "on an ego trip." "Ah, I like old Calvin," says Watts. "He's a genius at messin' with you. I always got to make sure he don't make me accidentally trip myself."

Awtrey goes at his role somewhat the way Loscutoff did, because Phoenix Coach John MacLeod is likely to send him in off the bench specifically to "put things in order." "I'm physical, so I expect to get some abuse back," Awtrey says. "But no one ever challenged me until I got into the pros. Not in college, not in a bar. Nothing. I thought I was a peaceful person. I see good and bad in terms of black and white. When I started getting pushed around, I decided not to take it. I guess I got my reputation when I punched Kareem in the face four years ago on national TV. Lanier? I don't know. I don't think he's that tough. Two years ago I threw Burleson into the stands in Seattle. Pat Riley and Fred Brown—just a couple of little guys—were tussling around on the floor. I was just watching. Then Burleson attacked Riley. I threw Tommy into the seats, on top of a lady. She almost had a heart attack. Dawkins really scares me because I don't know what's going through his mind. Cowens loses all sight of himself—and everything else. A guy like him is not so unusual in the NFL, but in the NBA he is an oddity."

The massive Lanier vividly recalls his first—and, wisely, last—run-in with Chamberlain. "When he picked me up here and put me down over there, I thought he was the baddest," Lanier says. "We were playing at L.A. and they had the ball on an inbounds play. Wilt and I were jockeying for position. The ref stepped in and told us if we didn't cut it out he'd call a double foul. Well, I stepped in on Wilt again and he just picked me up and moved me out of the way. And that was it."

Lanier made quick work of Eakins and Bill Robinzine—an entry from Kansas City—one night last season, and flattened an Oakland fan during the playoffs, but few others have been intrepid enough to challenge him. "If I found myself looking face-to-face with Lanier," says Lucas, "I'd invite him for drinks after the game."

The man everyone worries about is Dawkins. Embarrassed by the Lucas confrontation in the playoffs, the Dawk is looking meaner than ever with his shaved head and small gold earring. "Like about 30 million other people, I admire Muhammad Ali," he says. "That is the way I'm going to be this year. If I say I'm going to do something, I'm going to do it. Being an enforcer comes with being my size. Nobody, but nobody, is going to hurt my teammates. If a guy is playing well, they might want to hurt him. You want to keep him healthy because he'll make you some money."

Dawkins says he wishes he had hit Lucas when he had the chance. "From the fine I paid [they were fined $2,500 each], I should've hit him. This year, if I get into a fight, I want to throw the first punch." Says Philadelphia Assistant Coach Jack McMahon, "With a guy like Darryl, you steer clear. Maybe he can't fight, but if you get into it with him, you better hope to God he can't."