Rickey Henderson: Leadoff Hitter Extraordinaire and Greatest Base Stealer of All-Time

Rickey Henderson, MLB's career leader in stolen bases and runs scored who is widely considered the greatest leadoff hitter in MLB history, passed away on Friday, just five days before his 66th birthday. Henderson stole 1406 bases, 468 more than former record-holder Lou Brock; to put that gap in perspective, 468 stolen bases is a number that would tie for 48th on the career stolen base list! Henderson holds the single season stolen bases record (130 in 1982), and he is the only player in AL history to post at least 100 stolen bases in a season, a feat that he accomplished three times (1980, 1982, 1983). He led the AL in stolen bases a record 12 times (1980-86, 1988-91, 1998), snaring his last stolen base crown when he was 39 years old.

Henderson's 2295 career runs scored surpassed Ty Cobb's record total by 50, and is 121 better than the number posted by both Babe Ruth and Hank Aaron (unlike MLB, I am not counting the number posted by the most famous PED cheater of all-time, who played a major role in turning MLB's treasured record book into a work of fiction). 

When Henderson retired in 2003, he ranked first in career walks and he ranked in the top 100 in career home runs (297, including a record 81 to lead off a game); if you don't count the numbers of the most famous PED cheater of all-time then Henderson still ranks first in career walks. Henderson ranks fourth in MLB history in games played (3081), trailing only Pete Rose (3562), Carl Yastrzemski (3308), and Hank Aaron (3298).

Henderson is one of just 33 members of baseball's prestigious 3000 hit club, and he also had a significant impact defensively, ranking second in career putouts as a left fielder, a category in which he finished in the AL top five 11 times (including first in 1980-81, 1989-90).

Henderson played in the postseason eight times, and he participated in the World Series three times (1989-90, 1993). He played on two World Series championship teams (Oakland 1989, Toronto 1993), and he won the 1989 ALCS MVP during Oakland's title run. He posted a .284 career postseason batting average, logging five home runs, 20 RBI, and 33 stolen bases (which ranks second all-time to Kenny Lofton's 34, but Henderson played in 60 postseason games while Lofton played in 95 postseason games). Henderson won the 1990 AL regular season MVP, earned 10 All-Star selections, received three Silver Slugger awards, and won one Gold Glove (1981).

Henderson was a first ballot Hall of Famer, receiving 94.8% of possible votes (the 20th highest percentage all-time).

Henderson's combination of speed, power, and a discerning eye at the plate (demonstrated not only by his record setting walk total but also by his seven seasons hitting at least .300) made him a nightmare for opposing teams; he got on base, wreaked havoc on the basepaths, and scored runs. Of all of his records, he was most proud of his record for runs scored, sensibly noting that you have to score runs to win games.

Henderson's critics sometimes griped that he did not play hard and was hurt too often, but the great Ralph Wiley provided the definitive refutation to those grumblings: if Henderson was loafing while he set all of the records mentioned above, then he must have been the greatest baseball player of all-time! Henderson played in at least 134 games in 13 seasons. He missed that total in 1981 because of the strike, and he did not reach that total in each of his last five seasons, when he was 40-44 years old, so the record shows that for well over a decade he was pretty durable, particularly considering how active he was on the basepaths.

Henderson played for nine MLB teams (Oakland A's, New York Yankees, Toronto Blue Jays, San Diego Padres, Anaheim Angels, New York Mets, Seattle Mariners, Boston Red Sox, and L.A. Dodgers), but he will forever be most associated with the Oakland A's, with whom he had four different tours of duty accounting for 14 of his 25 MLB seasons.

Henderson's numbers are incredible, but his impact and legacy go beyond the numbers, as is the case with the select few athletes who are transcendently great.

The May 4, 1987 issue of Sports Illustrated featured a series of cover stories about the incomparable Julius "Dr. J" Erving, and in one of those stories John Papanek penned a line about Erving that has always stuck with me and that I quoted as the epigraph to one of my articles about Erving: "You had to see the man and hear the music." In other words, statistics tell a story, but they don't tell the whole story. The numbers speak to Henderson's greatness, but they don't convey what it felt like to watch him play (or what I presume it must have felt like to play against him). I am old enough to remember Rickey Henderson's entire career, and I will say without question or hesitation that he is one of the most exciting baseball players of my lifetime, on my short list with (in chronological order) Reggie Jackson, Eric Davis (who joined Henderson as the only players in MLB history to post at least 20 home runs and at least 80 stolen bases in the same season), and Bo Jackson. When Rickey Henderson strode to the plate, fans were mesmerized, and when Henderson made it on base fans were even more mesmerized. 

Those of us who saw Henderson and heard the music were blessed. May he rest in peace, and may his family--including his three daughters--be consoled at this difficult time.

"Reggie": A Personal Portrait of One of the Greatest Clutch Baseball Players of All-Time

Reggie Jackson is one of my favorite athletes of all-time, and I will always remember being captivated as a young child by his three home runs off of three different pitchers in game six of the 1977 World Series. "Reggie," a documentary about Jackson's life that includes extensive interview footage with Jackson, premiered recently on Amazon Prime. I just watched the film, and it was great to see the story not only of Jackson's rise as a great baseball player but also how he overcame racism. Also, before watching "Reggie" I did not know that my favorite basketball player of all-time--Julius Erving--has long been close friends with one of my two favorite baseball players of all-time (Eric Davis is my other favorite baseball player).

Jackson bashed 563 home runs to rank sixth on MLB's career home run list when he retired, though he has now officially dropped out of the top 10 after his numbers were surpassed by PED cheaters. MLB ranks Jackson 14th now, but if you take out the PED-enhanced numbers posted by Barry Bonds, Alex Rodriguez, Sammy Sosa, Mark McGwire, and Rafael Palmeiro then Jackson ranks ninth; regarding the other three players who passed Jackson, Ken Griffey Jr. never had the body changes or numbers changes denoting PED usage, while Albert Pujols and Jim Thome are--according to what is publicly known and documented--the two greatest clean sluggers of the PED era.

Jackson played on five World Series championship teams (1972-74 with the Oakland A's, 1977-78 with the New York Yankees), capturing regular season MVP honors in 1973, and the World Series MVP in 1973 and 1977. That legendary three home run performance in 1977 cemented his reputation as "Mr. October," a nickname first given to Jackson not as a compliment but as a sarcastic remark by teammate Thurman Munson, who did not always see eye to eye with Jackson. Munson died in a 1979 plane crash. 

Near the beginning of the documentary, Jackson looks into the camera and says, "I have hesitation with this documentary because I don't have control of it." Despite his hesitation, Jackson welcomed the cameras to his home, and he set up a gorgeous shot with some of the classic cars from his legendary collection. He also let the viewer be privy to a phone conversation with Pete Rose, who needled Jackson that he is "shrinking," quipping that if Jackson gets any shorter he could ride horses as a jockey. Jackson laughed and admitted that he is only 5-10 now (Jackson was listed at 6-0 during his playing career).

Jackson talked with Hank Aaron about Aaron's pursuit of Babe Ruth's home run record. Aaron contrasted the invective directed at him by some people for breaking Ruth's record the praise that Pete Rose later received for breaking Ty Cobb's hits record. Aaron concluded, with a sad and weary look on his face, "Baseball has been backwards for a long time." 

Jackson recalled being drafted by the Kansas City A's and then being sent to play minor league baseball in Birmingham, Alabama, home to the infamous Bull Connor. It is chilling to see archival footage of Connor looking into the camera and stating that he may not be able to keep Birmingham segregated forever but that he will "die trying." In the South, Jackson's teammates had to bring food to him on the team bus because restaurants refused to serve Black patrons.

Jackson soon was promoted to the big leagues with the A's in 1967. The A's moved to Oakland in 1968. Jackson quickly became a big star, but he ran afoul of team owner Charlie Finley after requesting a raise. Jackson held out of spring training, and then was benched upon his return to the team. Jackson fumed at being relegated to a limited role, but when he got an opportunity to pinch hit he made the most of it: "I had to honor the guy in the mirror that I looked at, and really say that I got everything out of what I could do. That was my goal in the game: just go out there and do something, and you won't need to talk. I hadn't played, I hadn't had spring training, but this is what I do. I'm in charge here. Once I get out of here [the playing field], and you have control of me, I'm boxed up. But not here. He's got to throw the ball over here past me, and it ain't passing." Jackson chuckled at the end of that statement, and then he concluded the story: "I hit a home run to center field with the bases loaded, and it won the game for us. And when I got around to home plate, I saluted Charlie Finley like this" (in the documentary, Jackson mimicked the well-known one finger salute, without actually making the gesture on camera).

Jackson injured his leg stealing home in the deciding game of the 1972 American League Championship Series versus Detroit, and he was unable to play in that year's World Series. He will never forget Jackie Robinson being publicly honored during the 1972 World Series for the 25th anniversary of breaking MLB's color line. When Robinson spoke to the crowd, he mentioned how proud he would be when the day finally came that he would see a Black manager in MLB. That stuck with Jackson. Robinson died nine days later. In 1975, Frank Robinson (not related to Jackie Robinson) became MLB's first Black manager. 

Jackson mentioned that the most important thing for a pro athlete is to win championships--not one championship, but more than one, to prove that you can be consistently dominant. Jackson dominated in 1973, winning MVP honors in the regular season and the World Series. 

After showing highlights from that triumph, the documentary shifted to the current time, with Jackson visiting Julius Erving's home. Car aficionado Jackson looked with admiration at Erving's 1985 Rolls Royce, pointing to the car's distinctive hood ornament and asking Erving if he knows what it is called. Erving did not know, and Jackson said, "That's called the lady of ecstasy." Erving chuckled: "You know more about my car than I do."

Erving and Jackson asked members of the camera crew how old they were in 1985. Answers ranged from four and five to "I wasn't born yet."

It was a surprise and a treat to see Erving highlights in "Reggie." Jackson commented, "When someone says, 'You've got something in common with Dr. J,' you know what I say? That I'm bad!" Erving laughed, and with his typical modesty replied, "You know it's the other way around." Jackson insisted, "No way," and he tried to imitate Erving's famous reverse layup from the 1980 NBA Finals when Erving floated through the air from one side of the hoop to the other, holding the ball aloft over the out of bounds line, before flipping in a sensational shot like it was a routine move. Pro athletes do not tend to gush about other pro athletes--particularly other pro athletes who are from their generation--but I have noticed over the years that Erving is one of the few sports icons who turns even Hall of Famers into gushing little kids.

Erving is an eloquent speaker, and it brought tears to my eyes when he explained his heartfelt feelings about his friendship with Jackson: "The 70's was a good time. In my lifetime, I have had a few special relationships when somebody has extended the hand of friendship, and then after that it's like no strings attached. Maybe there is some divine intervention just saying that you should stay connected with this person, like a second family. I lost my brother and my sister in life, but I have a brother in you. I'm not a big baseball fan, but I'm a Reggie Jackson fan. So nobody can say anything bad about you." Erving paused for a beat, and jokingly added, "No matter how much cause you give them. They can't say nothing bad about you around me."

Erving and Jackson talked about role models who influenced them. Erving noted that Jackie Robinson had a "turn the other cheek" mentality, while Jim Brown represented a "get out of my face" attitude, so athletes had a choice to decide which path to take. Erving and Jackson both emphasized how much they respect Robinson, while also stating that they identified more with Brown's approach. 

Jackson's time with the A's ended after the 1975 season, when Finley refused to pay market value to keep his star-laden team together. Jackson found out that he had been traded to Baltimore by hearing the news on the radio. Erving, who led the New York Nets to two ABA titles in his three seasons with the team, was also traded by an owner (Roy Boe) who was unwilling or unable to pay market value (though Boe's hands were probably more tied than Finley's, as Boe had to pay various costs associated with the ABA-NBA merger, including an indemnification fee to the New York Knicks for being based in the same market).

Jackson played one season for Baltimore before signing with the New York Yankees. He wanted to wear number 42 in honor of Jackie Robinson, but that number was unavailable, so he chose to wear number 44 in honor of Hank Aaron.

To this day, Jackson says that he does not understand why he and Yankees Manager Billy Martin had such a contentious relationship. Jackson respected Martin's scrappy personality. However, Jackson also feels that race and racism impacted Martin's attitude toward him. Jackson believes that Martin initially refused to let him hit cleanup--his natural spot in the batting order--because Martin did not want a Black man to fill that role for the Yankees. Things came to a head when Martin felt that Jackson did not hustle to go after a ball in the outfield, and Martin pulled Jackson from the game in the middle of the inning, a humiliating move that Jackson did not accept blithely. The two men confronted each other in the dugout and had to be separated. Jackson noted that Black baseball players such as Bob Gibson, Hank Aaron, and Frank Robinson were wrongly depicted as angry when in reality they "are hurt. They are disappointed. They are searching for dignity."

Martin eventually put Jackson in the cleanup role. Not surprisingly, Jackson thrived, and the Yankees moved up in the standings, setting the stage for the team's dramatic 1977 run to the World Series title.

There are few images in pro sports as dramatic and dynamic as Reggie Jackson's home run swing. He seemed to corkscrew his legs into the ground as his powerfully muscled torso exploded into the ball and sent it on a one way trip out of the ballpark. Jackson poured every ounce of his mental, emotional, and physical energy into that swing, and the ball fled his bat as if it feared the power he had just unleashed.

Jackson believes that his biggest advantage was that around the 120 game mark of the season everyone else was tired but he was not. During his career, he clearly showed on more than one occasion that he possessed the ability to produce when it mattered the most. "Stat gurus" can insist that the hot hand does not exist and that elevated performance by some players in clutch situations is a myth, but if you have ever played competitive sports and took it seriously then you know better. Reggie Jackson epitomizes clutch play in a way that few athletes in any sport ever have. In team sports, a rare athlete like Reggie Jackson not only elevates his own play when it matters most, but his attitude, approach, and confident demeanor infuse his teammates with confidence. Of course, a player who lacks those traits can infect his teammates with doubt. 

Jackson will forever identify himself and be identified as a Yankee, even though he spent just five seasons with the Bronx Bombers. Yankees owner George Steinbrenner later lamented that letting Jackson leave was his biggest mistake. Jackson continued to be productive for several years after departing New York, but as he approached his 40th birthday he realized that mentally he was not quite where he once had been, and so he knew that it was time to retire.

After retiring, he worked for the Yankees as a special advisor for many years, but he yearned to become a team owner, and he still laments not receiving that opportunity. Jackson candidly admits that he was depressed for a while without even realizing it. Jackson, feeling that his opportunities with the Yankees were limited, joined the Houston Astros, and now serves as a special advisor for that franchise. His love for the game and his eagerness to pass down his knowledge to the current generation of players are palpable.

Bonus film clips accompanying the documentary include brief excerpts from separate conversations that Jackson had with Hank Aaron, Franco Harris, Rick Hendrick, and Bob Kendrick. Aaron, who passed away in 2021, recalled growing up in Mobile, Alabama, and how his mother would call him into the house to hide under the bed when she knew that the Ku Klux Klan was in town. Harris and Jackson talked about the honor and privilege of having your number retired. Hendrick recalled spending a whole day with Jackson at a ceremony when the legendary race car team owner was honored as the car dealer of the year. Jackson had tears in his eyes by the end of that day, and when Hendrick--who had never seen Jackson be that emotional--asked why, Jackson said that at the ceremony he did not see anyone who looked like him. Hendrick said that Jackson's comment made a deep impression on him; afterward, Hendrick developed a leadership academy to mentor people of color to find the individuals best qualified to work in his organization. Hendrick also provided Jackson with the opportunity to own a car dealership in Raleigh, North Carolina. Kendrick took Jackson on a tour of the Negro Leagues Museum, and discussed how the advocacy of Babe Ruth and Ted Williams helped Negro League players receive deserved recognition that they might otherwise have not received from the general baseball community (including the Baseball Hall of Fame).

During the documentary, Jackson admitted to wondering if he has done enough to help his community. It should be noted that Jackson's Mr. October Foundation has worked with thousands of children in underserved communities to provide STEM educational opportunities.

Where Should Magnus Carlsen be Ranked in the Chess Pantheon?

It is interesting and fun to try to rank the greatest practitioners of all-time in a given field but, no matter how conscientiously one attempts to be objective, such selections are inherently subjective.  My Pantheon series honored the 10 greatest retired professional basketball players of all-time, while also providing some recognition to four active players whose career arcs seemed destined to launch them into Pantheon territory. While I am proud of the work that I did on that project, there is a certain charm and elegant simplicity to Julius Erving's take on this subject; he has not changed his all-time starting five since he was in high school: Erving explained that his quintet "was, is, and always will be Oscar Robertson, Jerry West, Elgin Baylor, Wilt Chamberlain and Bill Russell, with Connie Hawkins coming off the bench as my sixth man to play guard, forward and center."

Erving has reiterated his philosophy in multiple recent interviews that he has conducted as part of his tour to promote his autobiography, Dr. J. Erving has made it clear that he is in no way disparaging the accomplishments and/or skill level of players such as Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Kobe Bryant and LeBron James but he strongly believes that the evolution of the game and the emergence of new stars do not diminish the greatness of the game's pioneers; each great player should be appreciated for what he accomplished in the context of his era. In Erving's view, those who operate at the highest levels of greatness are part of a continuum, not a hierarchy: Erving does not believe that his high-flying escapades eclipsed those of Baylor and Hawkins but rather that he continued down the mid-air path that they blazed, much as Jordan, Bryant and James have subsequently continued down that path as well.

Erving's approach could also be applied regarding a chess Pantheon. Olimpiu G. Urcan notes that recently crowned World Chess Champion Magnus Carlsen has evoked comparisons with many of the sport's most highly regarded champions because of his ruthlessly efficient playing style, cool nerves and ability to convert the slimmest edge into a win:

Our personal observation took in verbal contrasts and juxtapositions with no fewer than seven of Carlsen's great predecessors, including Paul Morphy, José Raúl Capablanca, Alexander Alekhine, Bobby Fischer, Vasily Smyslov, Anatoly Karpov and, of course, Garry Kasparov. Occasionally, commentators offered variations on this theme. One very notable one, in seeking an adequate Carlsen comparison, yoked together two previous world champions. On November 15, 2013, Kasparov tweeted that he "once described him [Carlsen] as Capablanca with the will of Alekhine." Another pundit, Susan Polgar, one of the commentators during the live broadcast of Game 10, made use of commercial product language, the lingo of soaps and cell phone sales: she described Carlsen as "an improved version of Bobby Fischer."

Perhaps Carlsen is an "improved" Fischer in terms of relative psychological/emotional stability--and those traits are certainly important elements in maintaining one's status as the world's best chess player--but both the chess ratings and the anecdotal evidence suggest that Fischer towered over his contemporaries in a way that is unmatched by any other player except, possibly, Morphy. How can one compare Morphy to Fischer, let alone to Carlsen? Carlsen is a full-time chess professional who has a team of seconds at his disposal, plus access to computer technology that has changed the very nature of the sport. If such computers had existed in Morphy's day would they have leveled the playing field or would Morphy's genius intellect have enabled him to process extra information more rapidly than his rivals? Morphy's style inspired the players who came after him, much like Fischer inspired a generation and much like Carlsen is inspiring a generation. Erving's continuum of greatness can be readily seen when making these comparisons.

Carlsen is already the highest rated player of all-time and the second youngest linear World Champion, narrowly trailing Kasparov for the latter honor. Where should Carlsen rank in the chess pantheon? Carlsen, to this point, has not been as dominant as Fischer but Carlsen shares Fischer's will to win/fighting spirit. There is also more than a whiff of Capablanca's elegant, deceptive simplicity to Carlsen's games; Carlsen's ideas often seem obvious in retrospect but the fact that he consistently beats elite Grandmasters proves that his ideas are not at all obvious until he executes them over the board.

One important element is the test of time. Erving has a "10 year rule": a player should not even be considered for all-time great status until he has logged at least 10 professional seasons (Erving has mentioned that Gale Sayers is perhaps the only exception he will make to this rule). Fischer once declared that he would regularly accept challenges for his World Championship title but he never played an officially sanctioned game of chess after winning that title in 1972; at the other end of the spectrum, Wilhelm Steinitz stood atop the chess world for 28 years, Emanuel Lasker reigned as World Champion for 27 years and Garry Kasparov wore the linear World Championship crown for 15 years.

Whether Carlsen reigns for three years like Fischer or nearly three decades like Steinitz and Lasker, he has already permanently etched his name in chess history by virtue of the quality of his games, his record-breaking rating and his decisive victory against Viswanathan Anand, a great champion in his own right. An old school chess "starting five" analogous to Erving's basketball "starting five" might include Morphy, Steinitz, Lasker, Capablanca and Alekhine. That quintet will always be special--and it is possible to make room for Fischer, Kasparov and Carlsen without either forgetting the past or dismissing modern players as products of superior conditions and/or technology

Jets Prove Once Again That Talk is Cheap

Rex Ryan's New York Jets talk big but they still have no rings to show for it after the Pittsburgh Steelers raced to a 24-0 lead and then held on to beat the Jets 24-19 in the AFC Championship Game. This is the second year in a row that the Jets lost in the AFC Championship Game. The Jets' slow start versus Pittsburgh markedly contrasts with how the Jets kept the New England Patriots off balance for most of their Divisional playoff game last week and--considering all of the woofing that Ryan and the Jets did about Bill Belichick, Tom Brady and the Patriots--makes one wonder if at some level beating New England really was New York's biggest goal.

New York linebacker Bart Scott--who has made one Pro Bowl and has never won a Super Bowl in his nine season NFL career--barked last week about New England's defense not being able to "stop a nosebleed" but he was largely invisible as Rashard Mendenhall bulldozed over the Jets' defense in the AFC Championship. Scott exclaimed "Can't wait!" when asked about playing the Steelers and his emphatic, colorful comments during that interview with Sal Paolantonio rank up there with Lee Flowers' "paper champions" line regarding the Tampa Bay Buccaneers; Flowers ran his mouth and then watched the Buccaneers later win a Super Bowl while he never won a ring (or even made a Pro Bowl) and Scott's premature boasting and posturing looks just as foolish.

On the fifth anniversary of Kobe Bryant's 81 point game, ESPN commentator Jalen Rose--who guarded Bryant part of the time during that epic performance--said that his Toronto Raptors did not commit a flagrant foul against Bryant because Bryant's demeanor never changed during the game: Bryant was focused on winning the game, not showing up the Raptors; it is worth remembering that earlier in that season Bryant outscored the Dallas Mavericks--a championship-contending team--62-61 in the first three quarters but he sat out the entire fourth quarter because the Lakers had total control over the game: Bryant clearly could have scored at least 70 points (and probably more than that) but the larger goal--the only goal--is winning, not padding one's stats or puffing out one's chest (that is also why Bryant plays hurt even though this damages his stats: he knows that even when he is not 100% healthy he can still draw double teams and maybe even hit a game-winning shot).

I have no problem with guys who talk as long as they deliver the goods--champions like Muhammad Ali, Reggie Jackson and Deion Sanders backed up their words by delivering multiple championships--but here is a bit of wisdom from Julius Erving: "I wanted to win without boasting and lose without crying. If you chew on that one, it's going to keep you in a good place that helps you maintain your sanity while all the madness is going on around you."

Woody Paige Interview, Part I

While going through my archives, I found an unpublished gem: in October 2004, I interviewed Woody Paige for an article about Larry Miller, holder of the ABA' s single-game scoring record (that article was eventually published in the July 29, 2005 issue of Sports Collectors Digest; you can read a reprint of it here). Paige has spent a lot of time--and made a lot of money--convincing people that he is some kind of buffoon but his real personality is nothing at all like the character he plays on ESPN. I've never met Paige in person and I had never been in contact with him prior to this interview but he spent the better part of an hour talking to me about a wide range of subjects in addition to sharing his memories of Miller's record-setting game, which Paige covered as a young beat writer:

Paige: "I covered the ABA from like '69, then I moved to Denver in '74 and I covered it until its demise. So I covered it for like seven or eight years."

Friedman: "So if you were covering it for Denver obviously then you were at the ABA Finals against the Nets and Julius Erving?"

Paige: "Oh, yeah. My greatest memory of that is that the Nuggets were up by 22. I walked by the Nets bench to go the bathroom and I heard Kevin Loughery say to the players, 'Just go out and beat them up. We're out of this game, go and hurt them.' I mean, not hurt them in the sense of hurting them physically, but in the sense that they're a soft team and the only way to get back in the game is to just bang on them. They came back and John Williamson was a mean guy and Taylor must have been on that club--"

Friedman: "Yeah, Brian Taylor."

Paige: "And Kenon. Kenon could be a banger. Billy Paultz was a banger. They went out and they did it and (Denver Coach) Larry Brown was defenseless to stop it. I mean, he couldn't stop it. Maybe Larry learned something (from that experience) by the time he got to Detroit. They (New York) came back and won the game and I always remember just the oddity of walking by the bench and hearing his strategy. It's kind of funny because I had to be within three or four feet (to hear it) because it's not something that I would be able to hear in a lot of large buildings, but the crowd was out of it because the Nets were down 22. If they go on to win the game then the Nuggets would (probably) have won the last ABA Championship. They got beat on a freaky play in the first game. Bobby Jones was a great defender and went up to defend Julius on the baseline and Bobby's shoe exploded."

Friedman: "I know--I read about that. I heard about that."

Paige: "And Bobby's not a guy who would make up a story or make up an excuse. He said he went up and the moment he went up his shoe blew apart and it distracted him for just enough time that Julius was able to get off the shot and make the basket. So, I mean Denver could have won the last ABA Championship...The Celtics would play Denver (in exhibition games) and you'd talk to those guys and they'd say, 'Yeah, these guys can play.' Because they (the Celtics) never saw the ABA. CBS put on eight games a year or something like that. They (the ABA) played in a lot of small towns."

Friedman: "Do you remember the first game that you saw Julius in person and what you thought at the time?"

Paige: "Yeah, it was in Virginia. It was a game toward the end of the year. I don't know why I know that it was the end of the year, but I wrote pieces for Basketball Digest later and that's why I distinctly remember that Bob Bass had a great quote that I used. He said that whenever Julius went up for a shot, for one his dunks, a tomahawk or something, everybody's ears in the building popped. It sucked the air out of the building--a different way of applying it. I guess Al Bianchi was the coach in Virginia."

Friedman: "Sure."

Paige: "I got to know Al Bianchi pretty well and he said that you're going to see a kid tonight that you're not going to believe. Yeah, yeah, ok, sure. If he's so good how come I've never heard of him? I never heard of him coming out of UMass. You heard of most of the good players but I guess he left after his junior year or whatever. He couldn't shoot, he didn't have any outside shot at all, but I've never seen anything like him. He had the Afro. I remember thinking that this guy's going to play his career in a vacuum. The NBA really never saw him early, because he had to be so much more creative going to the basket and doing things because he couldn't shoot a lick from the outside. He was a terrible outside shooter. If you remember--and you're old enough to remember--Magic Johnson couldn't shoot."

Friedman: "Of course."

Paige: "Well, Julius was that bad. (ed. note: To be fair to Erving, it should be noted that in his third season he shot .395 from three point range and he was a .778 free throw shooter during five ABA seasons, including .801 in his final campaign in that league). Nobody would guard him outside, obviously, because he couldn't shoot, so he had to do even more amazing things going to the basket than he did later when he could shoot from the outside. Yeah, I remember him distinctly. Two times in my life that I walked away (amazed). I went to see John Elway when he was a senior in college--because of the NFL strike--and I came back and told Dan Reeves, 'I've seen the future and it's John Elway.' He went, 'Yeah, he's a good quarterback.' Good quarterback? He's an incredible quarterback. That doesn't make me someone who discovered electricity."

Friedman: "Sure. I understand."

Paige: "When I saw him play at Stanford he would throw a ball through a cornerback's hands. You've seen the thing where a guy drops a dollar and you try to slap your hands together to catch it before it hits the floor. Well, the cornerback couldn't react quickly enough. I mean the ball was right between his hands but he couldn't react quickly enough to stop it from going past him, like guys could do in the pros. We started talking about him. It didn't seem like there was any way Denver could get him, but you know that story. The only two times I ever felt that way were seeing John Elway in college and seeing Julius Erving for the first time. We all knew about David Thompson from playing UCLA. I knew Michael Jordan could play--I saw him in the national championship game. I never knew what he was going to be, but I knew that he could play and that he was going to be a great player. I never thought that he would be the greatest. But Julius Erving was a totally unknown player and to see him and go, 'My God, I have seen the Messiah of basketball!'"

Friedman: "What do you think would happen if somehow through a time machine you would have the young free flowing Julius from the ABA and Michael Jordan from whatever we might think is his best year, what do you think that would be like?"

Paige: "Oh, I think that there is a natural progression. I didn't get to see him, but people would say about Elgin Baylor that nobody will ever be as creative or as demonstrative or as good in that position. Then Julius Erving came along and just blew him away and you go, boy, Baylor couldn't hold his jock. Then Michael came along and he did stuff that Julius couldn't do. I mean, he took it a step further. But I think Kobe--forgetting everything else--in certain ways can do some things that even Michael couldn't do. I'd say that there is a natural order, as has been pointed out by Darwin."

Paige laughs, then continues, "There is a natural order. There was never anybody like Julius Erving, not (even) Elgin Baylor. Well, Michael Jordan was like Julius--shorter, better shooter. He had--­probably because he had the North Carolina background--a much more functional game. I mean, he had a more solid game. Julius' game was based on the playground. Michael played in a very formalized system under Dean Smith. That is probably what made him able to take it (further)--because he could do things that Julius couldn't do in a formalized setting and win championships and he had Scottie Pippen, who had his back. I would have loved to see them (go head to head with both in their primes), but we got to see Larry Bird and Magic and I don't know how much more I could have taken. What was funny to me is that Julius Erving leaves Bianchi and those people in Virginia and you say, 'How in the world could you do that?' and Al Bianchi says, 'Wait until you see this next kid.' Yeah, sure, ok. Then you see George Gervin and you go, 'Where do they get these guys?' I mean, people that just show up out of nowhere and can play their asses off. Gervin had been in junior colleges and he was sort of like Jim Thorpe--you didn't know if he was playing for pro teams when he was 14 years old or what."

Friedman: "You're right. These guys come out of nowhere and then these guys could really play."

Paige: "Who in the world could imagine that one stupid club that lasted three years or whatever could come up with Julius Erving and George Gervin? I mean, where in the hell did that come from? The Boston Celtics did not come up with Larry Bird and then another Larry Bird. You don't come up with Magic Johnson and then another Magic Johnson. You (much later) come up with Kobe Bryant."

Friedman: "That franchise, in its earlier incarnation under a different name, didn't they have Rick Barry? He didn't want to go (to Virginia) when they changed the name--"

Paige: "They didn't discover him."

Friedman: "Oh, right, I see what you're saying--they didn't discover him (like they discovered Erving and Gervin)."

Paige: "Yeah, I mean Julius Erving and George Gervin came out of nowhere and suddenly are playing for the Washington Caps/Virginia Squires."

Friedman: "No, I see what you are saying--players that they discovered, not just who showed up on the team."

Paige: "Yeah. Did they totally discover them? Maybe not, but everybody says that Benjamin Franklin discovered electricity and also discovered small town newspapers and the post office. Well, you know, other people equally 'discovered' some of those things, but Benjamin Franklin is remembered for it. I don't know that the Virginia Squires get the credit that they deserve for discovering a couple guys that nobody had ever heard of."

Friedman: "They just didn't have the financing to keep them, right?"

Paige: "Yeah. I don't remember the owner's name, but he said that we did as much as we could and then we sent them along. They hung on as long as they could. Julius got to play in New York and got to play in Philadelphia, so we all got to see him, but by the time he got to Philadelphia he was not--he was a much more fundamentally sound player and smarter player and a classy player, but he was not the young man who just played such a natural game that--well, most people never saw what Julius Erving was really about. Would you like to see a young Julius against a young Michael Jordan? Yeah, but I would like to see Barry Bonds and Babe Ruth play in the same game, but you can't do that."

Friedman: "With Julius and Jordan I am interested in your perspective because you have seen them both in person. I always thought, observing more from a distance, it seemed to me that Julius had more of a tendency to defer to teammates. When he came to a team he wouldn't say 'It's my team.' He would always say that it was McGinnis' team and Collins' team--that we are sharing that role. It seemed to me that Jordan had a personality that whatever team he was on was his team and he made it clear to everybody on the other team and on his team that it was his team and that he was taking the last shot and averaging 30 points and everyone falls in line behind him. Do you think that there is any credence to that, that maybe Julius' personality was a little different than Jordan's in some way?"

Paige: "He (Erving) was for most of his career a much lower key person, yes. I think there is a great deal of truth to that. I'll tell you, on the other side, he was a lot better leaper than Jordan. People think of Michael as a great leaper, but he couldn't touch Julius' leaping. If you were to go see Julius today, Julius has the biggest hands I've ever seen. I mean, that's why (he was so exceptional)--when you add leaping ability to the incredible hands. You know, who cares, but the untold story about Artis Gilmore is that he couldn't palm a basketball. He was a guy who was 7'2" and had to put stickum on his hands and players hated playing against him because the ball was always sticky because Artis Gilmore couldn't palm a basketball. He had the smallest hands in the world. Julius had the largest hands. I mean he wore the size 14 or 18 glove that you would see on a defensive lineman now. That really never got noticed. He had just incredible hands, so he could do a lot more with the basketball than Michael ever could and he had better leaping ability. He was not the shooter that he (Jordan) was and he was not the leader. Fundamentally he was not the guy, because as I said, Michael Jordan played for Dean Smith, who had the great ability to take incredible players and turn them into really average players. Dean and I are friends, but I mean everybody who went there you think, 'This guy isn't going to be much of a pro' and then (after they do well in the pros) you go, 'Why didn't he play great there?'"

Friedman: "It's the system, right?"

Paige: "Yeah. I think there is a great truth to that. He was much more of a leader than Julius was but that happened late. When he was in Philadelphia he took control of the team over McGinnis and when they played the Lakers and Pat Riley's club he was really a great leader at that point."

Friedman: "I don't know in would even call it being more or less of a leader--I think it (Julius Erving's style) is a different kind of leadership. I think Jordan was an assertive leader. Julius was more of a leader who led by example, it seemed to me. He would work hard, he'd show up, he'd practice, he'd play hard, but he wasn't the kind of person to get into someone's face--"

Paige: "A lot less vocal."

In Part II, Paige explains how he developed the persona that he uses on "Around the Horn" and which prominent NFL coach first asked the famous question, "Why I always have to straighten you guys out?"