Going Like Blazers

Early on, it was refreshingly obvious that the Blazers had not become fat, happy, complacent or checkbook-conscious. Walton set the tone in training camp, arriving stronger and quicker, swigging huge gulps of hearts-of-artichoke juice or something and knocking off the required 300 jump ropes so fast a teammate said, "You couldn't even see the rope."

What is easier to see is the steady progression of Hollins toward becoming one of the three or four best all-round back-court men in the pros. Hollins' quick, ball-stealing defense always was of top quality, but now the Train has also learned to use his speed in moderation on the attack. Hollins' shooting is more consistent—42 of 64 in Portland's five-game winning streak—and his floor mistakes less blatant. "I thought I was playing well early," he says, "but in the last 20 games, I've been playing great. Everybody is just very confident. We want it all again."

Lucas, the Blazers' other star, vows, "We're staying hungry. All of us know what it's like to get blowed out. We want to keep doin' the blowin'."

At the risk of drawing Lucas' All-Pro glare, let it be noted that his assessment is not entirely correct. The Portland brass has assembled this remarkable team according to a theory based on winning as an inherited trait; all the Blazers have been big winners before. Only one member of the 11-man roster—Bob Gross—did not come from an NCAA tournament team, and that was because Gross' college, Long Beach State, was on probation. During his two years, Long Beach's record was 43-9.

The team's small forward, Gross is that prime example of an excellent player toiling for a more than excellent team. Simply, he "fills a role." While the Waltons, Lucases and Hollinses dominate the statistics and make the All-Star teams, Gross spends much of the time, as he says, "doing what's left over." This includes leading the team in offensive rebounds and, last week, turning in what amounted to a perfect game against Milwaukee—19 points, six assists, five steals.

Like Gross, the curly-haired Twardzik—"our Polish immigrant child," Assistant Coach Jack McKinney calls him—constantly is maligned as a journeyman living off his more gifted teammates. This is hardly fair to the man his teammates have named "Fudd" (something about a resemblance to Bugs Bunny's not-too-speedy old foe). As he was last season, Twardzik is the league's best in shooting percentage (.664) with a repertoire consisting exclusively of a twisting corkscrew layup from three inches and a unique item he calls the "springer." The springer is a jump shot in disguise because Twardzik plainly cannot jump.

"Who would Dave Twardzik be without the Trail Blazers?" asks Portland GM Stu Inman. "Who would K. C. Jones have been without the Celtics?"

If Fudd is K. C. Jones, then Portland's Lloyd Neal is the famous Celtic sixth man. Or Tom Owens is. Or Guard Johnny Davis. Or Steele. So deep and talented is the Trail Blazer bench that opponents have a hard time figuring out which poison to accept.

Lucas, the premier power forward in basketball, has missed six games, but the Trail Blazers have won them all. Walton has missed two others—one when he flew home to be with Susie Guth and their newborn son, Nathan—and the team won both of those as well. Five different Blazers have led Portland in rebounding in one game or another. Seven different men have led in assists. Nine separate players have led in scoring. The Portland bench averages more than 41 points a game.

"Being a sub doesn't bother me," says the 6'7" Neal. "Basically, you got to be a contributor. When you get in the game, the secret is to play so you don't apprehend the flow." What?