Earl the Pearl

by Earl Monroe

  But the Celtics played like the champions they were in Game Five and eked out a win against us, 98–97. I played in this game, but my foot was still sore and I only managed to score 11 points. Clyde led us for the fifth straight game, scoring 21, while DeBusschere added 19. Cowens led Boston with 32 points and played like the MVP he was. With our series lead trimmed to one, we headed back to New York for Game Six and got beaten again, 110–100, with Cowens and White combining for 51 points. Clyde led us again, this time dropping 29, and I got 22, mostly on long-range jump shots. Now the series was tied, three games apiece.

  Game Seven was scheduled for Boston Garden on April 29, and we expected a war. The Celtics had never lost a seventh game at home in their franchise’s history, and they seemed to have all the momentum. My bone spurs were really killing me, even though I had scored 22 points in Game Six, but I just played through the pain. So before Game Seven, Danny and Red came over and asked me how I felt. I told them I was hurting but that I would try to give it a go. I also told them that if I couldn’t go, Dean Meminger could step right in and replace me. They already knew that, but they were happy to hear it from me, because it showed that I was a true team player. So I started the game but could tell right away that I was not going to be effective. Now, I wanted to win a championship probably more than anyone on the team because I hadn’t won one yet, though I had been to the Finals two years in a row. So I told Red and he put in Dean, who held his own against Jo Jo in that game, scoring 13 points and causing White to foul out. More importantly, we won the game 94–74, taking the series. Clyde led us again with 25, and four other Knicks scored in the double figures. Dave Cowens went for 24 that night, while Jo Jo scored 22 despite being hounded all night by Dean’s tenacious defense. Havlicek hurt his ribs and right hand and had to do everything with his left hand, which really limited him. He ended up scoring only 4 points. Havlicek was heartbroken after that loss, as were his teammates. But for us, it was on to Los Angeles for a Finals rematch with the Lakers. As a team, we were ready for the Lakers and had revenge on our minds.

  Because the first game was scheduled for Tuesday, May 1, we had to travel back to New York Sunday night after Game Seven and then turn around and fly to Los Angeles the next day. So I got back to New York, had some dinner with Tina and Theresa—who was staying with me at the time—and went to bed. We caught an early flight to LA the next morning, got there around midday, and went straight from the airport to a practice session at the Forum, the Lakers’ home arena. I remember when we came out on the court Wilt was there, just getting ready to leave. He greeted me warmly, but then Dean said something smart-alecky to Wilt and the Dip turned his attention to “the Dream” (that was Dean’s nickname from his New York City high school ball team because he had been so good) and said, “Hey, how you doing, Dream? I know one damn thing. You betta not bring your little ass down here close to where I’m playing because I’ll make you eat any and every shot you take. And that goes for you too, Pearl!”

  Then Wilt smiled at us and left. Well, that first game was a really close, good game and Wilt was true to his word, patrolling the lane and cutting down on our shots in there. Gail Goodrich had a hot shooting hand and burned us for 30 points, while Jim McMillian got 27 and Jerry West scored 24. The Lakers won 115–112, though we almost caught them in the fourth quarter. Walt had an off night and scored only 12, but DeBusschere and Bradley combined for 49. I was able to get 18 points, mostly on long jump shots again. Wilt and Willis battled each other to a draw, essentially, with Dip getting 12 points while the Captain got 10. Even though we lost that first game, it wasn’t like we all got that “Aw shit, here we go again” feeling. We were an experienced, veteran team and we sucked it up because we felt we should have (and could have) won that game. We just let it get away from us and we were confident that, having taken the Lakers’ best shot, we’d bounce back and win the series. Nobody was down. It’s kind of an eerie feeling when you lose and you’re not really down in a championship series. But we weren’t. Instead, we were like, “Okay, okay, so what’s next?” That’s kind of how we all felt about it going into the next game. At least I know that’s how I felt about it. So the next game we came out strong and ready to play and beat them 99–95. Bill Bradley played an inspired game and dropped 26 points, with Clyde getting 21 and Phil Jackson hooking his way to 17 points. I scored 14 in that game, but thought I played a good floor game. Jerry West dropped 32 that night for the Lakers while Jim McMillian added 26. Gail Goodrich and I neutralized each other, as he matched my 14. Now the series was even steven. We were headed back to New York for two games, and we really liked our chances.

  We opened a two-game stand at the Garden on May 6 and beat the Lakers both times, 87–83 and 103–98. I was feeling good in the second game and scored 21 points, mostly on long-range jump shots again. Willis, who was starting to feel his oats, led us with 22 points and limited Dip to just 5 in a truly inspired performance. I felt particularly good that night because I outplayed Gail Goodrich, holding him to just 14 points for the second straight game. My bone spurs started acting up again in Game Four, limiting me to just 4 points, but I passed the ball very well, drawing Wilt away from the basket and setting up Willis for a number of uncontested layups (while I talked shit to Wilt). DeBusschere was on fire that night and torched the Lakers for 33 points, while Willis continued his resurgent playing by scoring 21. For the Lakers, Goodrich bounced back and scored 23 points in this game, as did Jerry West. Again Willis outplayed Wilt, limiting the big man to 13 points and keeping him off the boards. Now we led three games to one going back to Los Angeles and everyone was feeling good.

  Our next game was scheduled for the 10th of May, but Red decided that we should fly to Los Angeles that very night so we could be rested and get some practices in. Now, I always liked to drive to the airport and leave my car there, but this time Tina was going to drop me at the airport, drive my car back into the city, and then pick me up when I came back. So Tina and I were walking to my car on 34th or 33rd and Seventh Avenue—somewhere around there—when we ran into three big, nasty-looking, heavyset white cats coming down the street from the game. I could tell they had been at the game because they had on Knicks caps and shirts and they were talking loudly about being at the game; they were drunk. So when Tina and I walked by they looked at us and then one of the guys pushed me, punched me in the jaw, and called me a nigger. I was shocked. In Manhattan? I mean, I didn’t even know these motherfuckers, so I was mad as hell. So Tina was pulling me back from them and they saw how enraged I was and ran off. Now, I had a gun in the glove compartment of my Rolls-Royce. So I was thinking I’d go get it and ride around the area looking for these racist, stupid bastards. We had a charter flight leaving from the airport and Tina was pleading with me while I was riding around looking for them to forget about this and make my flight. After a while she convinced me and we drove to the airport and I got there a little late. Fortunately, they were waiting for me. After I explained to a shocked Red Holzman what had happened, he shook his head and put his arm around me and told me that, as much as it hurts, I had to forget about it. But I couldn’t forget about it and all the way to LA I was mum—I guess Red told everyone about the incident, so everyone left me alone—just burning up inside.

  By the time we touched down in Los Angeles I was channeling that anger into my competitive spirit to play in this decisive game against a team that was now my enemy, the basketball embodiment of those white guys who had jumped me. I thought about Dr. King’s speeches, about the incident I had had with the police at Dunbar High School in Philly, about Malcolm X, and Muhammad Ali getting shafted by the army over his draft. So when I got off that plane I was fired up, and I stayed that way until we got on the court to play. I wanted badly to win this game, to become an NBA champion. So on game night I felt ready to get out on that court and do whatever it took to help my team win this game. But I also wanted to have fun doing it, like the old “Earl the Pearl” or “Black Jesus” walking on w
ater. Because once I was on the court and feeling good, everything else disappeared from my mind. I threw everything else away and focused in on what I had to do to win. That’s what it’s all about. When all else fails, I can always find refuge out on the basketball court. And that’s what happened to me in Game Five against the Lakers. When I got out there, everything else disappeared and I just started playing. There was no denying me or my team that night, because we were a team of destiny. We won the game 102–93 and I led the way, scoring 23 points. But what made me really proud that night was that I put on my old “Earl the Pearl,” “Black Jesus” act in the fourth quarter when I torched the Lakers for 8 points. And as happy as I was, the Dream, sitting on the bench, was thrilled for me, too; I could tell by the grin on his face and the way he was just shaking his head in wonder every time I made another great shot. Bradley dropped 20 points in that game and Clyde scored 18, same as the Captain. Gail Goodrich put up 28 in a very good game, though it was not good enough. Jerry West only got 12 that night because he was hurting.

  I remember coming down the court a few times and talking to Wilt as I was driving in off a spin move. As he would come out to stop me I would say to him, “You can’t get this one, big fella! You can’t get it!”

  And he’d say, as he came out to challenge me, “Yeah, Pearl, you bring that little shit in here and I’m gonna stuff yo’ ass!”

  Then I’d go right at him and when he’d leave Willis to come block my shot I’d dish it off to the Captain and as Willis dunked it I’d say, “I told you, big fella. You couldn’t get this one. I told you that. Now look at yo’ ass out here stuck and Willis dunkin’!”

  Now, Wilt didn’t like that kind of talk directed at him one bit because we were friends, both Philly cats who had played against each other a lot in the pros and in the Baker League. Still, I could see where Dip sometimes was showing his age because his reflexes had slipped and he wasn’t the same dominant player he used to be. That’s what age does to all great athletes over time; it just robs them of the edge they used to have when they were younger. I could see that in Dip, in Willis sometimes, in Jerry West, in the Big O, and I would see it in myself the longer I played. I just hoped I would have the good sense to recognize it before some young buck embarrassed me. But on this night, even down the final stretch of the game, whenever I took the ball in on Dip he would just grin and shake his finger as if telling me, “I’m gonna get yo’ ass, little man, the next time you come in here!” Man, he was cocky to the end and it was fun, that game, one that I will never forget because I became an NBA champion and got my ring, which is why we all played this game.

  All in all, 13 players and coaches who competed in the 1973 NBA Finals were elected to the Basketball Hall of Fame, which is crazy when you really think about it. Even though it only went five games it was a historic series—the best against the best—and I was grateful to have played with and against such tremendous players, because it meant that we had truly earned the title of “champion.”

  When the buzzer went off I was with Dean, and we hugged, but nothing overly exuberant. I just said to him, “Whew, this shit is finally over. Now we gonna get us a ring! Let’s go get us some room service.”

  Dean looked at me with love and respect in his eyes and said, “Earl, you were a bad motherfucker tonight! You were your old self and you took it to their asses!”

  That made me happy and I hugged him again. Then we started walking off the floor. But first I went up and congratulated the Lakers—Jerry, Wilt, Gail, all of them. I gave them hugs, but I could tell they were disappointed, as they should have been. But I was happy it was them and not us. Dip asked if I wanted to come out to his place afterward and I said no because we had to leave in the morning, but that I would take a rain check on it. But what I really wanted to tell Dip that night was that I had finally come full circle, because I had finally beat him for an NBA championship. Mentally, I didn’t have to wear his hunter socks anymore because I was a champion in my own right now. But I thought better of saying that, so I kept it to myself because I didn’t want to sound arrogant and say something to one of my idols that might sound inappropriate.

  I remember looking at Wilt when we hugged, and for the first time since I had known him, he looked a little vulnerable to me. Now, I don’t know if this was true, but that’s the way I saw him that night. See, what a lot of people didn’t know about Wilt was that underneath all his bravado he was a very nice, sensitive guy. Very generous, understood a lot about life. So I felt for him in that moment. But like I said, better him than me because Dip already had two championship rings and this was my first, as it was for Jerry Lucas and the Dream. During the game, Red had taken me out for a while, I guess to rest my bone spurs for a final run, and replaced me with Dean. But after a while, after the Lakers started to come back on us, Red put me back in the game and we finished them off. So when we got back in the locker room and were celebrating, pouring champagne over everybody’s heads, DeBusschere came up to me with a big smile on his face and said, “Goddamn, Earl, I was wondering when you were going to get back in the game, man. We needed you out there.”

  So that in itself let me know how Dave felt about me, and I was quite sure after that night and that win that the other guys felt the same way as well. It gave me a rush to know I had really been accepted by this team, by my teammates. Dave reminded me of Gus Johnson in his leadership values, how he related to the guys and whatnot. He wasn’t the enforcer Gus could be at times, but they were similar in terms of how they related to guys and how guys felt about them.

  Because we won in Los Angeles there were no parties to go out to, and we had a flight to catch the next morning anyway. We would do our celebrating in New York, you know, go to City Hall, get a key to the city from the mayor, John Lindsay, all that stuff. Then we’d walk around the city and soak up all the love from New York fans. Because basketball is a city game, and the NBA championship had just been won by a big city team, the New York Knicks! The only thing I regret about the way we won that championship is that we didn’t win it in New York City, in Madison Square Garden. I would have loved to win my ring that way. At home, in front of the New York fans who loved their team so passionately. But that wasn’t to be.

  So I went back to my room with my roommate, Dean, and we ordered room service and a bottle of champagne. I thought about how much I would have loved to share this moment with my beloved mother by talking with her over the telephone, but I couldn’t do that. Still, I felt her great spirit there with me that night. So I got undressed, got in bed, and turned the television on. I watched the local news recapping our win over the Lakers, and that made me feel good all over again. I called Tina and let her know the good news and we both sent kisses to each other over the telephone wires. Then I hung up, just about the time when the champagne and food arrived. I ate the steak, fries, and salad I had ordered, drank some champagne, then snuggled into the bed and fell asleep and slept deeply, savoring those sweet moments of winning my first NBA championship. That night I slept as peacefully as a baby, without a worry or care in the world. It was a beautiful ending to a long journey. And though I wished my mother could have shared it with me over the phone, she was there with me in spirit, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  Epilogue

  MY TAKE ON NBA BASKETBALL AND THE FUTURE OF THE GAME

  ON OCTOBER 29, 1996, at the Grand Hyatt Hotel in New York City, I was voted one of the 50 Greatest Basketball Players in NBA History. This was the crowning achievement of my basketball career and an affirmation of my approach to playing the game. The people that voted for me were coaches, media people, and fellow players. The players on the selection committee who I had competed against included Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Al Attles, Elgin Baylor, Dave Bing, Bill Bradley, Wilt Chamberlain, Billy Cunningham, Wayne Embry, John Havlicek, Willis Reed, Oscar Robertson, Bill Russell, and Jerry West. Three players on the committee, Bill Bradley, Willis Reed, and Wes Unseld, had been teammates of mine. Amongst the
coaches on the committee who I had either played for or competed against were Al Attles, Red Auerbach, Gene Shue, and Red Holzman.

  Of the 50 players who made the list, I had competed against or played with Kareem, Nate “Tiny” Archibald, Rick Barry, Elgin, Dave Bing, Larry Bird, Wilt, Bob Cousy, Dave Cowens, Billy Cunningham, Dave DeBusschere, Julius Erving, Walt Frazier, George Gervin, Hal Greer, John Havlicek, Elvin Hayes, Sam Jones, Jerry Lucas, Moses Malone, “Pistol Pete” Maravich, and Kevin McHale. Twenty-two players in all. In my 13-year pro career with the Baltimore Bullets and the New York Knicks, I was on one NBA championship team (the 1973 New York Knicks), went to the NBA Finals two other times (once with Baltimore and the other time with the Knicks), was named Rookie of the Year in 1968, was voted into the All-Star game four times (five if you count the coin flip in 1970 between me and Flynn Robinson, which I lost), and was named to the All-NBA First Team in 1969. My number 15 was retired by the New York Knicks and hangs from the rafters high above in Madison Square Garden. In addition, my number 10 Bullets jersey was retired by the Washington Wizards (the Baltimore franchise was moved to the Washington, DC, area in 1973 and renamed the Wizards in 1995) and hangs from the rafters of the Verizon Center in the nation’s capital. I scored 17,454 points in my career, for an average of 18.8 points per game, and handed out 3,594 assists, an average of 3.9 a game. And recently I produced a critically acclaimed documentary film entitled Black Magic, which documents the early involvement of black small colleges and their coaches and star players in the evolution of basketball in this country during the civil rights era.