Another Chapter In The Philadelphia Story

Three times the Bullets led by 10 in the first half, but in the first two minutes of the second half Erving transformed himself into Dr. J and majestically threw in seven points. On one occasion he grabbed a one-handed rebound, drove the length of the court and hit a spinning cross-lane layup for a three-point play. The Sixers led 61-54 and would not trail again.

Four minutes and 40 seconds into the half, Sixer Coach Billy Cunningham sat down McGinnis, who had shot 4 for 11 and had only four rebounds. His replacement, burly Steve Mix, kept him on the bench the rest of the night, scoring 15 points and stopping Kupchak cold in the 110-104 win.

Afterward, Cunningham geared up for another of McGinnis' blasts. "It was no slap at George," Cunningham explained. "This is the playoffs. We're here to win."

"I'm not going to say anything," said McGinnis, and then did. "I don't want to sound like a crybaby, but Billy never played me 16, 18 minutes at a time. Steve played great, but if I had stayed in there, there's no doubt I would have been better."

Over in the Bullets' dressing room, McGinnis' complaining made Hayes grin. "I don't think Cunningham has much confidence in McGinnis," he said, "because when the tough time comes, he puts in Mix. They can't hide George out there." Back to you, George.

"Elvin!" McGinnis spit out the name. "If he thinks I'm the choker, he ought to check out his own playoff records. If you take a survey in this league, on his own team—and one of his teammates told me this—you'll find that Elvin is the least respected player in the league. As a person, he's a phony guy."

Warming up before Game 3 at Landover, Md., the Sixers were again unconcerned. McGinnis laughed about his slump and joked about Hayes. "I'll be guarding him, so he should get 40 tonight," he said.

McGinnis began the game by dramatically refusing to shake Hayes' hand before the tip-off. Then, on the first five times he handled the ball, he was called twice for traveling and twice for charging, on each occasion letting the Washington crowd know that he intended to dance on Elvin's head. He threw exactly one pass in the first quarter. To keep the ball away from McGinnis, Erving would go one-on-one and bounce it off his knee; Collins would look for screens that no one was setting; Henry Bibby would launch 25-footers. And meanwhile—whoosh!—Hayes or Kupchak or Ballard would snare a rebound and whip it down to Dandridge or Grevey, who had spent the day in the hospital with his neck in traction, for a deadeye pull-up jumper.

At the half, the Bullets had a 62-45 lead. Dandridge had burned Erving for 18 points on 9-of-11 shooting, while the good Doctor was 1-for-6, Collins and McGinnis 1-for-5 each and Lloyd Free 1-for-9. All this was punctuated by 37 fouls, including one in which McGinnis, frustrated by his third charging call, hurled the ball at Hayes, daring him to throw it back.

As though the 76ers were not getting knocked around enough, even their fans took punishment. At least one fight broke out between two women spectators. Could that be Turquoise Erving landing that pretty right? Right.