The Punch

by John Feinstein

  “We were so slow when we played the big lineup that [the Houston Post’s] Tommy Bonk had nicknamed us the water buffalos,” Nissalke remembered. “He was right. We had caught people by surprise the previous year. No surprise lasts very long in the NBA. They were on to us. We had to make changes.”

  The changes appeared to be working. The Rockets won three in a row, breaking the losing streak with a “got you back” romp over the Knicks in Houston followed by an easy win in Cleveland and (at long last) a close win, 120–116 in overtime, at home against the 76ers. The Sixers game, played before a near sellout crowd, brought back happy memories of the previous spring, when the Rockets had been the hot team in town.

  That victory got them to 9–12 heading into a brutal West Coast trip. It would start on Tuesday in San Francisco against the Warriors and then, after two days off, would continue with three games in three cities in three nights: at Los Angeles, at Phoenix, at Seattle. These days NBA teams never play more than two nights in a row. But in the 1970s three in a row, though unusual, was not uncommon, especially since weekend games drew better than weeknight games. Since this was still in the days before team charters, the three games, three cities, three nights meant the Rockets would be up before dawn on both Saturday and Sunday to catch a commercial flight to the city where they would play that night.

  They lost another close game, 107–105, to the Warriors to begin the trip, then headed to L.A., where they would be well rested for the game Friday night with the Lakers. “When you were going to play three in a row on the road you always wanted to try like hell to win the first one, because you knew your chances to get a win diminished each night,” Tomjanovich said. “Plus, I remember it had been a while since we had won in L.A., so we went into that game really wanting to get one there.”

  It had been almost four years (December 23, 1973) since the Rockets had won in the Forum. Their road record for the season was a miserable 1–8. But the Lakers were equally motivated, since they had already dug themselves an unexpected hole in the Pacific Division with their poor start, a hole that looked even deeper since the Blazers had picked up right where they had left off the previous season and had opened up 20–4. In the still-strong Western Conference, the Lakers needed to get their season headed in the right direction or run the risk of missing the playoffs.

  Ted Green, the Lakers’ L.A. Times beat writer, summed up the contest best: “It was a run-of-the-mill December NBA game between two teams that, whether they wanted to admit it or not, were on their way to run-of-the-mill seasons. The building was half-empty and the play was, to put it politely, less than glorious.”

  Except for Tomjanovich, who was brilliant in the first half, making 9 of 14 shots. With Jamaal Wilkes and Don Chaney both out with injuries, West was forced to put second-year pro Tom Abernethy on Tomjanovich. Abernethy had been an excellent defender in his college days at Indiana, and it was his work ethic as much as anything that would keep him in the NBA for five years.

  “I always thought I played pretty good defense,” he said. “You couldn’t play for Coach [Bob] Knight and not play defense. But Rudy Tomjanovich on a shooting roll was not something I was in any position to stop.” Years later, Abernethy laughed at the memory. “It wasn’t as if I wasn’t trying, but it didn’t seem to make much difference.”

  Bolstered by Nissalke’s new plays and by the feeling shooters get on a night when they think everything is going to go in, Tomjanovich was excellent the first 24 minutes. The game was a rough one, and Malone missed a large chunk of the second quarter after picking up his fourth foul. That was why Nissalke started Kunnert at the beginning of the second half, hoping to keep Malone out of foul trouble and fresh for the fourth quarter.

  Even though the game was rough and they had been forced to call quite a few fouls, referees Bob Rakel and Ed Middleton had no major concerns about the way the evening was going. The score was tied, 55–55, at halftime. Looking back on the night, everyone who was involved says almost exactly the same thing: it was just another routine night in a long season.

  And then, in a few seconds, everything changed. Murphy began the half by hitting a jump shot to give the Rockets a 2-point lead. It was on the Lakers’ next possession that Kunnert and Abdul-Jabbar began skirmishing under the basket. Washington, doing his job, stepped into the fray because the Lakers certainly couldn’t afford to lose Abdul-Jabbar again either to injury or suspension. Exactly what happened during the next few seconds between him and Kunnert remains in dispute. Kunnert blames Washington and Washington blames Kunnert.

  Twenty-five years later it really doesn’t matter who elbowed whom or why Washington turned around and punched Kunnert. What matters is what happened next: Tomjanovich saw Kunnert in trouble and ran back downcourt to help his teammate. The next thing he remembers is thinking the scoreboard had landed on his head.

  His life had changed forever. So had Kermit Washington’s. And so too had the life of everyone else on the court that night. In fact the NBA itself would never be quite the same.

  15

  A New Life

  Trey Washington was born on January 26, 1978. Seventeen days later, Trey’s father was born again as a basketball player.

  Larry O’Brien announced Kermit Washington’s reinstatement on February 1, eleven days before the sixty-day suspension period would end and two days after he had met with Washington and Donald Dell. Even though O’Brien hadn’t brought in a stenographer to record Washington’s hearing, he had taken enough notes that in announcing the reinstatement he put out a detailed five-page statement explaining what had led him to allow Washington to resume playing. The statement made it apparent that this was not a decision made without great thought.

  “The basis of Mr. Washington’s application [for reinstatement] as set forth in both his letter to me and a personal meeting I had with him in my office on January 30th 1978 can be summarized concisely,” O’Brien wrote.

  1. Mr. Washington acknowledges that his acts were inexcusable, deeply regrets what he did, assured me that he will never again behave in a similar fashion and recognizes the need for strong penalties, such as the one imposed on him, to demonstrate that such actions will not be tolerated in our sport.

  2. Mr. Washington urges that portrayals of him as a “tough” or “intimidating” player, or as an “enforcer,” are unfair. In fact, says he, his entire experience as a student, husband, father and participant in community programs for the benefit of children, as well as his relationships with all who know him well, belie any attempt to describe him as one who would deliberately injure another human being.

  3. Mr. Washington asserts that the record fine, the 60-day suspension without pay and the present and future effects of these penalties on him are ample punishment for his misbehavior. He says that, apart from the lengthy interruption of his career and the substantial financial loss, he has daily been subjected to expressions of hate and anger and has voiced his concern that such expressions will not quickly subside.

  Mr. Washington has also re-emphasized his sympathy for Mr. Tomjanovich’s suffering and has expressed his support for my strong stand against physical violence in the NBA.

  I have no reason to doubt Mr. Washington’s statements in this matter. His regret of the incident, his sympathy for Mr. Tomjanovich, his understanding of the seriousness of his act and his acknowledgement that such conduct must not be repeated by him or engaged in by any other NBA player are, I am persuaded, genuine. Moreover, his descriptions of himself, as a concerned member of society who abhors violence, have been confirmed by persons who know Mr. Washington well.

  This brings me to consideration of whether Mr. Washington should be reinstated at the end of the 60-day period or whether his suspension should be continued for the remainder of the season. My search for guidelines to be applied in answering this question has not yet yielded any simple criteria. There are those who would argue that there is, in fact, a simple guidepost: that Mr. Washington should not be permitted to play as long
as Mr. Tomjanovich is unable to play. Whatever appeal this “eye for an eye” justice may have held for ancient civilizations, I cannot comfortably embrace it as the controlling rule for decision in his case because I, as the person with the duty of decision, must shoulder the responsibility of determining both the adequacy of the punishment and its effectiveness as a deterrent.

  As to the adequacy of the punishment, I determined the fine and 60-day suspension to be sufficient. I do not presume to pronounce it as the only appropriate punishment, since such questions must necessarily yield a wide range of appropriate decisions. On both a personal and professional basis, I am deeply concerned about the seriousness of the injuries to Mr. Tomjanovich, but no punishment that I administer can reduce those injuries or speed his return to the NBA. Furthermore, were I to allow my deliberations to be guided solely by Mr. Tomjanovich’s extreme misfortune, I fear I would necessarily be led to an injustice in dealing with Mr. Washington’s application.

  On the question of whether the fine and the 60-day suspension of Mr. Washington will have the necessary deterrent effect, I would state the following:

  First, I would hope the most effective deterrent to emerge from this entire incident would be the recognition of the severe damage which players are capable of inflicting upon one another. If the injuries suffered by Rudy Tomjanovich cannot finally convince NBA players that violence is simply unacceptable in our game, then I fear that actions from this office alone will not achieve that result.

  Second, if it must be known that punishment for such conduct will be swift and severe, in my view the punishment of Kermit Washington—the most stringent ever for such an occurrence in the NBA—meets these criteria. Moreover, lest my rejection of “eye for an eye” justice in this case can be taken as an indication toward leniency, all who are willing to listen have now received ample notice of the consequences that will be meted out to future transgressors without regard to the extent of the injuries they actually inflict. In short, let it now and henceforth be understood that I will weigh heavily the recklessness or intent of the culprit, in addition to the damage (if any) caused by the attack.

  Third, it goes without saying, but I add it for completeness, that my admonitions against violence are not intended solely for players. If I find any coach, general manager or owner of an NBA team to be guilty of encouraging violence by his players, he will be penalized as the situation dictates.

  Accordingly, the application of Kermit Washington to be reinstated as a player in the NBA as of February 12, 1978, is granted.

  Cutting through O’Brien’s flowery rhetoric, a number of things are apparent:

  • He had listened to people like Pete Newell, Red Auerbach, and Josh Rosenfeld, who had told him that Washington was not the thug he might appear to be based on one incident.

  • Washington, for all of his objections and anger, had said and done the right things during his hearing.

  • O’Brien wanted it made clear to everyone in the league that any raised fist, whether it wreaked the havoc that Washington’s punch had wreaked or never landed, could lead to serious punishment.

  • The Houston Rockets were not going to be very happy when they got to O’Brien’s final sentence.

  In fact the Rockets were furious. O’Brien’s “eye for an eye” theory didn’t wash with them. They thought it only fair that Washington sit out the rest of the season. “At that point, we didn’t know if Rudy would ever play again, much less the next season,” team president Ray Patterson said. “If there was any doubt before the ruling about going ahead with a lawsuit, it went away after the ruling.”

  Patterson was quoted after O’Brien’s reinstatement of Washington as saying that O’Brien had failed to recognize the “magnitude” of what had happened. O’Brien was incensed enough by Patter son’s comments to issue another press release, nine days after the original one, responding to Patterson’s criticism.

  “I note from your press statements,” he said, in a telex sent to Patterson but released to the media, “that you have announced that Houston ‘has no alternative but to commence litigation,’ and has chosen to assert an alleged failure on my part to recognize the ‘severity’ of the problem.

  “If there is any failure here, it lies in your mischaracterization of recent events, which serves only to exacerbate an inherently difficult situation.”

  Strong stuff, especially out in the public domain. If there was any doubt that the issue was still volatile, it was put aside after the public exchange between Patterson and O’Brien. The two men in the eye of the storm really weren’t concerned about who was angry with whom. Tomjanovich was just trying to get healthy. Washington was just trying to get ready to play basketball again.

  O’Brien’s announcement gave Washington ten days to get into some semblance of shape before he met his new team in San Francisco. Red Auerbach had told him not to bother coming to Boston. The city had been immobilized by a blizzard, he couldn’t work out with the team while still under suspension, and it would be easier for him to meet the team 500 miles from Los Angeles rather than 3,000 miles from there.

  “The problem was, I was in the worst shape I had been in since high school,” Washington said. “I had completely gotten out of my routine. Part of it was that I honestly believed I wasn’t going to play again that season. But the other part was that I was just too depressed by everything that had happened to work. Once I knew I was going to play, I went to work. But I had a long way to go.”

  He arrived in San Francisco full of questions about what his new life with the Celtics would be like. Tom (Satch) Sanders, the Celtics’ coach, had one question for him: “How much do you think you can play?”

  Washington answered him honestly: “I have no idea. It’s been too long to tell.”

  Sanders understood. “We’ll see how it goes,” he said. “I’ll try not to play you much more than ten minutes. We’ll go from there.”

  Washington played 30 minutes against the Warriors.

  “I felt fine during the game,” he said. “I was going on adrenaline. But when it was over, I thought I was going to keel over and die.”

  In all, though, he felt good. He felt good to be playing again, to be back on the court. His new teammates welcomed him. They asked no questions about what had happened in Los Angeles. They didn’t bring up the name Rudy Tomjanovich.

  That didn’t mean the incident was behind him, not by any means. Auerbach and Sanders explained to him that there would be extra security assigned to him in the arena. He was briefed by security people before he joined the team. Be careful signing autographs, look carefully to see what people have in their hands. Use an assumed name in hotels—a lot of athletes do this, but Washington had never had to in the past—and avoid room service. Try not to go out alone unless absolutely necessary.

  Washington took the advice seriously. The mail he had received during his suspension made it clear he was a marked man. Even with all of that, it felt good to be back in a locker room, back in basketball. Since college, the basketball court had been his home, the place where he felt most comfortable. There, and the weight room. Even though he was loathe to admit it and had said repeatedly that he would be just fine if he couldn’t play basketball again, that hadn’t been true. He needed basketball to feel complete as a person. Now, after two months, he had it back.

  From San Francisco the Celtics traveled to Los Angeles. The good news was that Kermit got a couple of bonus days at home with the family. The bad news was that his return was, not surprisingly, a huge story. He tried to say all the right things, but it was difficult. He still felt as if the Lakers had let him down in the aftermath of the fight, even though he knew being traded to the Celtics was a good break for him.

  The next stop after Los Angeles was Houston. But not for Washington.

  “Go back to Boston,” Auerbach told him. “You’ll have a couple of extra days to get settled there.”

  Washington wanted to go to Houston. He didn’t want to be intimidat
ed by what might be waiting for him there. Auerbach wasn’t hearing any of it. “It’s not worth it, Kermit,” he said. “There are plenty of games left. You’ll miss one game. No big deal.”

  “Did the league tell you not to take me to Houston?” Washington asked.

  Auerbach’s answer was direct: “No, Kermit, I told me not to take you to Houston.”

  Years later, Auerbach said the same thing. “If I had wanted to take him there, maybe the league would have stepped in and said no,” he said. “But it was pointless. I did it to protect him, but I also did it for the team. We didn’t need that kind of circus. We were struggling enough as it was.”

  The Celtics flew to Houston. Washington packed his bags, kissed his family good-bye, and headed to snowed-in Boston. “It looked like a ghost town when I got there,” he said. “It had been snowing for so long, almost nothing was moving anywhere.”

  He took a taxi from the airport to the Sheraton-Prudential, located a few blocks from Copley Square. He checked in and tried to make himself at home. He and Pat had debated whether she and the children should make the trip to Boston. Kermit thought traveling cross-country with a two-year-old and an infant and then living in a hotel room for two months bordered on suicide.

  “There was no point in finding a place to live,” he said. “We had no idea if I was going to be with the Celtics for just the rest of the season or longer. That meant we were going to all be cooped up in a hotel room, and I thought that would be a living nightmare. Part of it was selfish: I needed to concentrate on getting myself back in shape and playing basketball again. My contract was up at the end of the season, and I needed to show people I could still play, that I could put the incident behind me and be worth someone giving me a contract. But I also didn’t think it was best for Pat and the kids. I knew they’d miss me, but I also knew they’d be a lot happier and more comfortable in our house in Palos Verdes than in a hotel in Boston with no place to go and snow falling every day.”