by Earl Monroe
We won that night with our grit and our talent, with me leading the way with 26 points, while Marin dropped 20, Wes got 17 and a lot of rebounds, and Fred Carter notched 14 points. Gus scored 8 points and battled DeBusschere to a draw. Willis came back in that game like the true champion he was, scoring 24 points, while Dick Barnett led them with 26 and Clyde dropped 13 points. Finally, we had gotten off our backs the Knicks monkey that had weighed all of my Bullets teammates down for two years running now, and man, did it feel good. Great, even. Everyone on our team was exhilarated. Champagne was drunk and poured over everyone’s head in the locker room. I remember the Garden was strangely silent that night after we won. They couldn’t believe the Knicks had lost. It was one of the best feelings I have ever had because it was like finally climbing a mountain and getting to the top. But I also saw how the Knicks took the loss: They were cool. Came over to congratulate us. Shook our hands and wished us good luck in the championship series against Milwaukee. I saw that night that they were a veteran, professional team because they had beaten teams before and lost important games before. So they just took defeat in stride and I learned something from that. Still, it really felt great that we as a team had finally gotten over the hump by winning that series against the Knicks that night and we traveled back to Baltimore in a state of exhilaration.
When we got back to Baltimore I partied a little with Cookie and some of my friends. Not too much, though, because I had to stay ready to play the Bucks and Lew Alcindor in Game One of the NBA Finals on April 21 out in Milwaukee. The Bucks had the best record in the NBA that year, with 66 wins and 16 losses. They had a really good squad with Oscar, Bobby Dandridge, Jon McGlocklin, Greg Smith, Bob Boozer, and Lew’s old teammate and friend from UCLA, Lucius Allen. But the wind was taken out of us after that series against the Knicks. Actually, we felt that that was the real championship for us because we had fought so hard to beat that team, and we didn’t have much left in the tank. The other thing that happened during the Knicks series is that I had developed bone spurs on the top of my foot, so I was going to have to look into this during the offseason because they were beginning to hinder me.
Milwaukee beat us in the first game by 10 points, 98–88, and we were never even in that game, though I think it was the best game we played against them in the whole series. Gus was down again and I led us with 26 points, with Marin getting 18 while Wes had 16 points. Lew scored 31 points for the Bucks, Robertson added 22, and Dandridge dropped in 15. On April 23 we played them again in Baltimore and they beat us this time by 19 points, 102–83. Jack led us that night with 22 and I had a subpar game, scoring only 11. Gus played in that game but wasn’t really himself, though he did manage to get 10 points. Lew again led the Bucks with 27, while Oscar had 22 again, Dandridge 16, and McGlocklin 14.
We went back to Milwaukee and they beat us a third time, 107–99 in a game that looked in the box score like it was closer than it was. Again Jack led us with 21 points, Wes had 20 and did yeoman work going up against Alcindor, Kevin finally got into the swing of things and got 19, while I scored 16. Gus didn’t play in that game. For the Bucks, again Lew scored 23 points, Dandridge led them by dropping in 29, while Oscar scored 20 and Greg Smith hit for 15. Now we went back to Baltimore for the fourth game, which was going to be played on April 30. But the night before Game Four, Lew came over to my place and he and I were sitting around with two other people I had invited over, talking and telling stories. So Lew came out and said, “I’m going to go up to New York after we win tomorrow and see some of my people up there.”
So I looked at him in shock. I had known Lew for a while and he had always been a quiet, modest type of guy, so I was surprised that he said something like that. So I said to him, “Whoa, wait, big fella. What do you mean when you win tomorrow?”
So he stuttered a little, like he forgot what he had said. Then I said to him, “Well, shit, we’re going to have something to say about that! Whether you go up to New York. Because you still have to play and beat us first!”
So everybody laughed, and the next day when I got to the game I told everyone on our team what Lew had said and they got pissed off. So we started the game off hot, but then reality kicked in when they just started stomping our asses and that was that, you know what I mean? We lost to them 118–106, and Fred Carter—who I initially told about Lew’s comment and it really pissed him off—led us with 28 points in this final game, while Kevin scored 18, Marin and me scored 12 apiece, and Gus—who had come back—scored 11 points, the same as Wes. For the Bucks, Robertson led them with 30 points, with Lew right behind him with 27 and three Milwaukee players in double figures. So that was that. The Bucks were the new NBA champions and we had finished second, our highest in franchise history.
Lew’s prophecy of going to New York the next day proved accurate. He not only went up to New York to visit his family and friends, he also chose this occasion to announce that he had changed his name to a Muslim one and would now be called Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. Everyone was stunned and some didn’t like it, including some players. But I have always felt it is up to individuals to choose the names they want to be called by. I love my name and wasn’t going to change it, so I felt that Kareem had the right to call himself whatever he wanted to, and that was my take on him changing his name.
As for individual honors for the season, Kareem was named the MVP for both the playoffs and the entire season. He also led the league in scoring, averaging 31.7 points a game. The assist crown went to Norm Van Lier of Cincinnati, who handed out 10.1 a game. Wilt Chamberlain was the rebound leader with 18.2 a game (Wes Unseld finished second with 16.9 a game). The All-NBA First Team listed Dave Bing, Jerry West, Billy Cunningham, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, and John Havlicek. The Second Team consisted of Willis Reed, Walt Frazier, Bob Love, Gus Johnson, and Oscar Robertson. The All-Defensive First Team listed Jerry West, Dave DeBusschere, Walt Frazier, Nate Thurmond, and Gus Johnson (the last two had been high school teammates). The Second Team listed John Havlicek, Norm Van Lier, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, and Jerry Sloan. Dave Cowens and Geoff Petrie were picked co–Rookies of the Year, with the All-Rookie Team consisting of Bob Lanier, Calvin Murphy, Pete Maravich, and of course Dave Cowens and Geoff Petrie. The Cleveland Cavaliers made Austin Carr the first player chosen in the NBA draft, while the Bullets chose Stan Love with the ninth pick. (Stan is the father of Kevin Love, the current star of the Minnesota Timberwolves.)
As for me, I scored 21.4 points a game in 81 games, the lowest average I had had since coming into the NBA. I handed out 4.4 assists a game, and my minutes were down because of my surgery and injuries. Still, after all was said and done, our team ended up having a pretty successful season (despite our 42 and 40 regular-season record). We had defeated the 76ers in the Division Semifinals, beat the Knicks in the Division Finals, and finally lost to the Bucks in the NBA Finals. In the final analysis, we could chalk up a great many of our losses to key player injuries. So the team would have to heal itself over the summer and come back stronger in the fall.
I was looking forward to resting my weary body before going up to Philadelphia to do a clinic at Sonny Hill’s camp for kids and playing in the Baker League, which was relocating its games to McGonigle Hall at Temple University. I was looking forward to playing there. But for now I would just kick back and think about my future in basketball—and in life—because this had been a trying season for me, but one that proved almost rewarding in the end. What I wanted badly as a basketball player was to win an NBA championship, and I could definitely see that in my future. Now that I had been to the Finals I could taste the sweetness of winning one, which I knew was up ahead.
Chapter 15
LEAVING BALTIMORE AND GOING TO PLAY FOR THE “ENEMY”: 1971 TO 1972
IN THE SUMMER OF 1971, after returning to Philly, I bought a two-toned dark- and light-gray 1967 Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow for $30,000. It had a red leather interior and a dark mahogany dashboard. What happened was that I was driving on Route 309 out in the
countryside outside of Philadelphia and came into this small town called Flourtown, where I saw a car dealership with exotic cars on the showroom floor. So I parked my El Dorado, walked in, looked around and saw the Rolls, and it said, “Earl.”
I didn’t know it was a Rolls-Royce at first. All I knew was that it looked good to me and that the lines on the car were slick and classic. But I bought the car right there on the spot because it spoke to me. But the dealership had to clean it up and make sure everything was okay, which would take a couple of days. So I drove back to Germantown and a couple of days later, after they called and said everything was cool, I called Smitty, picked him up, and we drove out and picked up my new Rolls. I drove it back to my mother’s house while Smitty drove the El Dorado. So I parked both cars there for a minute and then drove the Cadillac down to Baltimore, where I left it with my barber friend, Lenny Clay (later, I gave Lenny that car). Then I caught the train back up to Philadelphia. Smitty picked me up at the train station in his car and drove me back out to Germantown.
So buying the Rolls was the beginning of my summer up in Philly. I had promised Sonny Hill I would make a guest appearance at his basketball camp for kids that summer, which I did. His camp, which was called the Sonny Hill Basketball Camp (Sonny had officially named it the John Chaney–Sonny Hill Basketball Camp, though, because John helped run it), was held on the campus of Cheyney State College, which is located about 30 miles west of Philadelphia. In order to entice kids to come out to the camp, Sonny convinced famous players like Bill Bradley, Wali Jones, me, and other well-known players to make guest appearances. So I came out one weekday in July in a limousine, and when I got out of the limo and the kids saw and recognized me they started yelling, “It’s Earl the Pearl . . . Black Jesus . . . You gonna walk on water?”
Man, that shit was funny, seeing all those kids jumping up and down, smiling and calling out my name like that. Then, after things settled down, some of the kids started asking me, “Let me see some of those moves that you do in the NBA?”
Now, I just can’t do those moves at the drop of a hat because they are instinctive, creative, and imaginative. I don’t even know what I’m going to do until a defender jumps in front of me. Then I just do the spin move or whatever it is that I do out of instinct. I also can’t explain, step-by-step, how to execute those moves when someone asks me to. I have to show them in a way that’s natural for me. So I took a ball, went out past the top of the key, and asked them to try and guard me. I started by faking a jump shot. Then, when one of the kids jumped out at me with his arms up to stop it, I took a dribble to my left. And when he moved to try to block me, I spun with the ball to my right and took it to the basket and scored. The kids on the sideline went crazy, screaming and jumping up and down. The one who had been guarding me looked shocked. He just shook his head and smiled. What else could he do?
I then called three or four kids out to try and take the ball from me while I dribbled the ball. They tried their best, but it was all in vain. We ran all over the court, but they couldn’t get the ball. Then I called three or four more and they couldn’t get it away from me, either. But they loved it.
Then the kids asked how much was I getting paid to come out there and I said, “The same thing Sonny paid Bill Bradley and Wali Jones. Nothing. I do it for free. I do it because I want to do it. Because I want to give something back to you kids.”
Now, that really surprised them. No question. But I was really happy to do it, and it made me feel happy to see the smiling faces on all those kids when I left.
That summer, the Baker League games were moved from the Bright Hope Baptist Church gym to the bigger and brighter McGonigle Hall gym at Temple University, on Broad Street at Montgomery Avenue. It held about 4,000 people and was not only brighter, but also had clear, Plexiglas backboards. I was a big believer in playing against great competition on a regular basis to keep the juices flowing, the momentum so to speak, and playing in the Baker League games every summer always provided that for me. In fact, as I’ve said many times, competition in the Baker League was so fantastic that games in the NBA were a letdown by comparison. Absolutely. See, once I got into the NBA everything was so scripted. Now, playing for the Bullets and Coach Shue I was able to deviate from the script somewhat, but for the most part I was still locked into a certain style of play, you know what I mean? On the playground and at Baker, I felt loose, though. There I was free to do all kinds of creative things that I would never do or even try in an NBA game. That’s why I enjoyed playing there in the summertime, because it freed me up to release all that pent-up tension from playing in the NBA.
For some reason, I had a habit of being late for games. So being the entertainer I was, I thought up a novel way to make my entrance into games that summer. See, the idea came from this one time when I had arrived at a game late, and when I came into the gym all of a sudden people started chanting my name. They even did it when I went out of the game and when I came back in. It was a big surprise to me to hear “Jesus! Black Jesus! Earl the Pearl!”
They repeated this stuff over and over again, and you know what? I liked it! So I thought I’d do it again. I would arrive late and create the buzz. Because most fans would drive their automobiles to the games, there would be no parking spaces if I came late except for in the middle of the street, so that’s what I’d do, right in the middle of Broad Street—one of the busiest streets in Philadelphia!
So I drove my Rolls to the game, parked it in the middle of Broad Street, and, because I was already dressed to play, I got out and went straight to the side entrance of McGonigle Hall. Now, there were always a bunch of people standing outside that entrance, because that was where the players entered and exited the gym. So standing there gave fans the rare chance to see their favorite players up close. When they saw me coming up, people started whispering my name, like “Here comes the Pearl,” and “Hey, Jesus, you gon’ walk on water today?” And I said, “Absolutely.” So the bantering went back and forth like that as I approached the side entrance. Now, the people standing just inside the door heard this and started saying, “Earl’s here,” and “Oh, Earl’s coming in the building,” and “The Pearl is here,” and “Black Jesus is here.” Then that buzz spread inside. So by the time I walked in the door and entered the gym people had already picked up those whispers and then the buzz turned into “He’s here, Earl’s here!” Then that turned into “Whooooo! Whooooo! Whoooo! Black Magic’s here! The Pearl is in the building! Black Jesus is here!”
Now, the game had already started, was maybe in the second quarter, you know what I mean? Everybody was excited. And I never took any warm-up shots. I just walked to the bench, took off my warm-up, and Coach Janey sent me into the game at the next whistle. Game on. The crowd just exploded. Man, that was something else. Now, don’t let me come right in and hit three or four straight shots (which happened a lot), I’d always think, because then we’d have bedlam in that gym.
This happened throughout my Baker League experience. I always had a love affair with the fans. That summer we won the championship again, with me and Archie Clark taking turns putting on a show. Sometimes I’d get 40 points in a half and he would get 30 or 35. Or it would be the other way around. Whatever. It didn’t matter because we had big fun playing together. We formed a bond and even wanted to play together in the pros. (It just so happened, in the fall, that he was traded to Baltimore.) I also threw some monster parties in my mother’s house in Germantown after the Baker League games that summer, with cars parked everywhere.
But on a trip down to Baltimore sometime in August I impregnated another woman, by the name of Linda. I first met Linda back in 1970 when I was messing around in Baltimore. Linda was 18 when I met her. She was nice looking, sweet, and very affectionate. So when I went back to Baltimore in the summer of 1971 we hooked up again and that’s when she got pregnant. (Our daughter, Danielle, would be born the next year, in April.) Still, Cookie was my number one lady and had been for a while now. We had begun
to discuss marriage, but I was still wary of committing to it because I was still playing basketball and seeing other women at the time, which was the way I wanted it. But I didn’t factor having babies into that equation. Now, after my third child, I vowed I would be more careful in the future, and I was.
After the Baker League wrapped up that summer I returned to Baltimore for training camp. We had drafted Stan Love in the first round that year, and Phil Chenier with the fourth pick in the league’s first supplemental (or hardship) draft, which for the first time allowed underclassmen to enter the NBA before graduating (a result of Spencer Haywood’s successful antitrust suit). Another rookie, Rich Rinaldi, a six-three shooting guard, also made the team that year.
Gus wasn’t around at that point because he was still rehabbing his knee, and it was a different team without him—he was our captain and the soul of the team. Kevin Loughery was still there and so was Fred Carter, but the Bullets waived George Johnson, our former first-round pick, in October. We had also just claimed Terry Driscoll off waivers from the Detroit Pistons. Jack Marin, Wes Unseld, and John Tresvant were all still around, but the energy of the team had changed dramatically and the league was expanding.
For this upcoming season, San Francisco would change its name and be called the Golden State Warriors. They would also move across the Bay and play their home games in Oakland. The San Diego Rockets became the Houston Rockets when they relocated to Texas. Another change occurred when the league debuted its new logo, patterned after the silhouette of Jerry West (that same logo is still in use today). We opened our season on October 15 in Chicago with a 106–82 drubbing at the hands of the Bulls, with Bob Love dropping 31 points on us. We bounced back in our home opener the following night, beating the Warriors 108–93, with me leading all scorers with 27 points. Three days later we traveled to Boston and got trounced again, 134–114. I scored 28 points that night in what would prove to be my last game in a Bullets uniform, though I didn’t know it at the time. As things turned out, I would not play in another NBA game until November 11, when I suited up in the uniform of my “enemy,” the New York Knicks.