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Larry Bird takes his shots

By Larry Bird With Jackie MacMullan

During a 13-year career with the Boston Celtics, Larry Bird led the team to three National Basketball Association titles. Last year, he was named one of the 50 greatest players in the history of the league by the NBA. He is now coach of the Indiana Pacers. This excerpt is from Bird Watching: On Playing and Coaching the Game I Love, by Larry Bird with Jackie MacMullan,cq being published this monthsept by Warner Books Inc. Copyright1999 by Larry Bird. MacMullan is a former Globe sportswriter who is a senior writer for Sports Illustrated covering the NBA.

When I retired and took Dave Gavitt up on his offer to work in Boston's front office, it was an easy decision. I couldn't imagine working for any other team. But, over time, that changed.

I knew my days with the Celtics were over when I told our owner that Sherman Douglas was the most valuable guy on our team, and then he traded him a month later.

That was in October of 1995. I had been working in Boston's front office for three years at that point, and I was getting more and more frustrated, because Paul Gaston, the owner, and my old teammate M.L. Carr, who was the general manager, would ask my advice about certain personnel moves, then turn around and do whatever they wanted. I mean, why ask my opinion if you don't really care what I think? Gaston always told me I could have any job I wanted in the organization, but the truth was, I had very little input. I think Gaston had trouble looking at me as anything except a former superstar, like some kind of figurehead. In a way, I can understand that, because the first couple of years after I retired I wasn't around much, but whenever I did come to town, everyone wanted to know what I thought about this player or that player. There's no question I had achieved a level of respect in Boston, but I spent a lot of years earning that respect. I think it was hard for Gaston to have me around sometimes, because it seemed as if no matter what he did, he took a beating in the press, while in their eyes I could do no wrong.

I was named special assistant to the team's CEO, Dave Gavitt, in 1992, right after I retired. In fact, Dave made the announcement at my final press conference as a player. He told me that he was really looking forward to working with me and talked about how he really thought he could put the Celtics back on top. He had all sorts of great ideas about making the team better. He was also very creative. For example, he was the one who arranged to put all the Celtics legends together for the closing of Boston Garden. He understood about the little stuff, too. One of the first things he did when he got hired was to have the practice locker room completely done over. All it really meant was a couple of coats of fresh paint, but it meant a lot to the team. Dave Gavitt was a guy who talked to players. He knew which guys needed a little pep talk and which guys needed a kick in the butt, and he got his message across without seeming like some guy interfering. He was fun to watch. The main reason I was interested in the job at all was because of Dave.

Unfortunately, by the time I was really ready to become a factor in the front office, Dave Gavitt was gone. Officially, he resigned, but the Celtics owners kind of forced him out, which is too bad, because Dave is a genius. He is very straightforward, which I've always liked in a person, and he treated me great. I guess in a way he was sort of a father figure to me. I know he's the one who pushed for me to be part of the Dream Team, which is one of the most memorable experiences I've had. Plus, he understood the game. He never would have traded Sherman Douglas! When Dave first hired me, I would have been more enthusiastic about my contributions if my back wasn't so bad at that time. People kept asking me if I missed playing, but I couldn't have played anymore even if I wanted to. Every time I made any kind of sudden movement, this burning pain would shoot down my leg. I kept thinking that since I was retired, one day I would wake up and the pain would finally be gone, but I was wrong. The doctors were hoping my nerves would calm down, and I tried all sorts of treatments and stretching exercises to make that happen, but I was still miserable.

Finally, I called up physical therapist Dan Dyrek and said, "Dan, I can't handle this pain anymore. Mentally, it's really gotten to me." Dan told me it was time to have fusion surgery. It's a pretty serious operation. In my case, it meant removing pieces of bone on the side of my spine, which would widen the canal from where the nerve exits to my leg. They were also going to have to put screws into my L-4 and L-5 vertebrae to act as anchors, then attach rods to the anchors to stabilize my back. The danger of an operation like that is that suddenly you are asking the segments above the disk area to handle all the motion in your back. That means a significant amount of added stress to that area, and nobody can ever be sure how long it will hold up. That's why shortly before I had the fusion surgery, Dan told me, "Larry, you better go out and play golf, because you may never play golf again."

I had the surgery, which wasn't scary at all to me, because I just wanted the pain to stop. It took a good nine months before my body started to feel the same again, but it was worth it. That searing, burning pain is gone. I can jog, play tennis, play golf. I still can't push it, though. If I went out and scrimmaged with my team for 20 minutes, the small of my back would start having spasms. The difference is those spasms are nothing compared to what I had experienced before. But my Indiana players can rest easy. I won't be challenging any of them to a game of one-on-one. During the time I was recovering from surgery, I wasn't really doing that much for the Celtics. I'd make an appearance here or there for them, and sometimes I'd scout a player off the television from my home in Naples, Florida. I'd show up for the draft and a couple of games a season, but that's all I could handle for a while.

When I felt strong enough to be around more, I started hearing rumors from people in the office that Dave was in trouble. I was hoping the rumors weren't true. It wasn't Dave's fault that my back gave out or that Kevin McHale's foot was never the same. I think one of Dave's biggest problems with the Celtics was that he didn't tell Red Auerbach and the owners every little move he was making. He was his own man, with his own ideas, and that was something new to the Celtics. The old general manager, Jan Volk, never did anything without running it past the owners and Red and the coach and who knows who else. Everything had to be done by committee. When Dave took the job, he was given total control, and that meant he was going to make the final decisions, even if everyone wasn't in agreement. Back then, the team was owned by Alan Cohen, Paul Dupee, and Don Gaston, Paul Gaston's father. They were a group with a lot of strong opinions. I think they were also impatient about turning things around, and when it didn't happen right away, because of retirement and injuries, they made Dave take the fall.

I remember being in the office one day and Dave telling me he had a meeting with Paul Gaston, who was taking over controlling interest of the team. I'm not sure how long that meeting lasted, but when Dave came out I could tell what had happened by the look on his face. Dave was shocked, and so was I. He shook my hand and said, "They want me gone." It wasn't justified. They hadn't given Dave enough time or support to run the team the way he wanted. I'm still not sure why everyone changed their minds about Dave, since they all agreed he was a terrific hire when they brought him in. I knew that one of the owners, Alan Cohen, was frustrated with him, because he'd make suggestions and Gavitt would end up doing his own thing.

With Don Gaston, I think it was a matter of being impatient and wanting results more quickly. And there was certainly a split that developed between Dave and Red Auerbach, although I never found out what that was all about. Red is the one who brought Dave to the Celtics in the first place. But, as I said, Red was used to being in on everything, and that didn't happen with Dave.

Anyway, it put me in a tough position, because everyone knew how I felt about Dave. Not long after that, Paul Gaston asked me if I would be interested in taking on a bigger role and doing something in the front office, but I said no. I was not about to go in there after Dave Gavitt. He was my friend, and I would never do that, not after the way they had treated him. I wasn't involved in finding a replacement for Dave. I know at one point they made a call to Frank Layden, who used to coach the Utah Jazz and had a reputation as one of the funnier guys in the game, but he wasn't interested in being their comic relief. He thought they wanted him to crack jokes all season, to keep the fans smiling through what was probably going to be an awful year. For a guy who had coached successfully in the league for years, he found that insulting. Finally, Gaston told me he was thinking of M.L. Carr to take Dave's place. Even though M.L. and I were friends, I had my doubts. I just couldn't see M.L. in that role.

M.L. is a great person. He has lots of energy, and he's great with people. You always wanted him on your side, because he was always getting the crowd riled up - and sometimes the other team, too. He was the kind of guy who would back you up out there no matter what, and he was great in the locker room. He knew how to break up tension and keep everybody loose. People forget M.L. was also a pretty good basketball player. He led the league in steals for Detroit before he came to Boston. He has always been someone I considered a friend, but I just didn't feel he was the right person to run the Celtics franchise. I wasn't convinced he was serious enough about the job to do what needed to be done. To me, a big personality wasn't going to be enough to help Boston win another championship. I wasn't convinced he had thought this decision through, to run an entire basketball team.

Right away, I could tell M.L.'s basketball judgment was much different from mine. I would listen to him talk and think, "Did we just watch the same game?"

There were a number of things the Celtics did while M.L. and Paul Gaston were in charge that bothered me, but the decision on Sherman Douglas was the one that really got to me. He was a tough point guard, only about 5-foot-9, and even though he didn't lead Boston to a championship, at least he was out there every night competing. The only reason the Celtics had a chance in the 1995 first-round playoff series against Orlando (they lost in four games) was because Sherman Douglas almost singlehandedly kept them in it. He wasn't the best player on that team, but he was the leader, the way Mark Jackson has been for the Indiana Pacers.

You'd think a player would be rewarded for that, but, instead, the Celtics went out and offered Dana Barros, who was a free agent, a huge contract. Paul and M.L. told me about it in a meeting we had up in Boston, and I was sitting there wondering, "Where is Dana going to play?" I told them he wasn't a point guard, and besides, we had Sherman. But they started talking about how Dana was a local kid from Mattapan and Boston College, and the fans would love him, and that's when I realized the decision didn't have very much to do with basketball. I told them Sherman was their MVP, and they nodded their heads, but they weren't listening. They had already made up their minds. So they signed Dana Barros, and Sherman got ticked. He wasn't stupid. He knew they weren't going to bring Barros in there to sit on the bench. This was right at the beginning of the season, and there had been a newspaper article quoting Gaston talking about the business aspect of owning the Celtics that had him saying, "I think I know our team stinks." Gaston said he was misquoted, but Sherman wasn't buying it. When reporters asked Sherman what he thought about Gaston's comments, he said, "I think he stinks, too."

They ended up sending Sherman to Milwaukee for Todd Day, who was a shooting guard, and Alton Lister, a center who was around when I was a player. It was a terrible trade. Todd Day was a selfish player who thought about only one thing: how to get himself a shot. Alton Lister was in his late 30s and on the downside of his career. The day I heard about the deal, I made up my mind I wouldn't be in Boston much longer. I don't have anything against Dana Barros. He works hard, and he's a nice kid, but Boston paid him half a million more a season than they had to, just to get him. Dana had one great year, in 1994-95 with Philadelphia, when he averaged more than 20 points a night, but what the Celtics didn't look at was that he played the most minutes of anybody in the league. He had a total green light. Give that kid a green light, and he can score, but look how many games the Sixers won that year. Twenty-four. Is that worth $21 million?

So if I knew I was leaving as early as 1995, why did I wait two years before I actually did go? I probably should have left sooner. We'd have 10 guys in a room trying to make a decision on one player, and it drove me crazy. I'm not saying I had all the answers, but the way they tried to do things, it's a wonder they got anything done. As much as that bothered me, I had my reasons for staying. The one thing my doctors told me after my fusion surgery was to be careful about letting my back heal. They warned me, "Take it slow, or you could have some major problems down the road." My feeling was, the Celtics had such great insurance, why should I have to pay for my care when I got hurt on their job? I stuck around because it made sense from a business perspective.

In the last year or so before I left the Celtics, Dan Dyrek told me about a group that was interested in buying the team. He asked me to meet with one of the guys, who happened to be a friend of his. I talked to him, and I liked him a lot. His group said the only way they'd be interested in buying the team was if I stayed on. At that time, it sounded like a great situation, but Paul Gaston didn't want to sell. And I knew that as long as Gaston was still there, I wouldn't be staying.

It wasn't easy watching what was happening in Boston. There was another move the Celtics made in the summer of '95 that I didn't like: signing Dominique Wilkins as a free agent. Gaston never even bothered to ask me what I thought about that one. The Celtics signed Wilkins without telling me. I heard about it on the news.

It's just as well they never asked me about Dominique, because I would have told them it was a big mistake. From day one, I knew there was no way that one would work out. Dominique was at the end of his career, only he didn't know it. He still had a superstar's mentality. He thought he was good enough to run the show, but his skills had deteriorated, and he just didn't have the same mobility or lift that he had in his prime. But what bothered me most about that signing was that Wilkins wasn't a Celtics kind of player. A true Celtic is a guy who's going to do everything for the team. Dominique was always one of those guys who wanted to do it all himself. You can't win that way.

I had some great battles with Wilkins during the '80s, when he played for Atlanta. He was so good back then. There's no question he's a terrific basketball player, but I always felt we could beat his teams, because one guy can't beat five guys, and Dominique always died trying. We were involved in a classic playoff series against Atlanta in 1988. The Hawks were a young, up-and-coming team, but even though people considered our "old" Celtics team dead and buried, we knew we still had what it took.

The series against Atlanta was in the Eastern Conference semifinals, and Dominique and I got into some major scoring duels. Wilkins was at the top of his game, but even after seeing him score all those points, I never doubted that we'd come out winners, because our guys knew how to make the pass to beat them. When the game was on the line, Kevin McHale and Robert Parish and I never worried about who was going to take the shot. We just made sure it was the best possible one we could take. We beat Atlanta in seven games because we played together. After that series the Hawks were never the same. In fact, I think they lost in the first round of the playoffs the following year.

Dominique was a big name, and that's why Boston went for him. You have to understand that, at that time, the fans were getting antsy. I had retired, and Kevin had retired, and Robert Parish had gone to play for Charlotte. The Celtics felt they needed a draw, and they were convinced that Dominique Wilkins was going to do that for them. But they should have listened a little more closely to the people around them who knew basketball. Chris Ford, who was the coach at that time, didn't want the Celtics to sign Dominique either. He was mad at Wilkins from his first day of camp, because he showed up out of shape. The whole relationship was doomed from the start. Wilkins had a terrible year in Boston. He was unhappy with his minutes, the way Chris used him, everything. That summer, the NBA locked out their players while they negotiated a new collective bargaining agreement, and Dominique used that to escape to Europe. The Celtics were lucky, because, by then, the fans had turned against Wilkins, and it was getting pretty ugly. I honestly felt sorry for Dominique. He's not a bad guy at all. He got set up to be some kind of savior, and that was never going to happen.

It must have seemed to Chris Ford that he never got who he wanted. In 1994, when the Celtics had the eighth pick in the draft, he wanted the guard from Temple, Eddie Jones, really bad. I could see why. I liked Eddie Jones, too, because he was tough and athletic and played good defense for a college kid. But the Celtics ended up taking the big center from North Carolina, Eric Montross. Somehow, it came out that I was against taking Montross, but that wasn't true. I wanted to take him, because I knew Parish was going to sign somewhere else as a free agent, and both Red Auerbach and I realized how vital it was to have a center. I figured if it turned out we didn't like Montross, we'd always be able to trade him. I mean, the kid was 7 feet tall, and he was a hard worker.

Besides, the Celtics had just signed Dee Brown to a big six-year contract, and he and Eddie Jones played the same position. There's no doubt in my mind that Jones would have come in and beat out Brown for the job, but then what are you going to do? You'd have a veteran sitting on the bench making all that money and being very unhappy. I don't think the Celtics wanted to deal with that. Dee had talent, but Eddie Jones would have beaten him out. Anyhow, Montross had a solid rookie season. I thought he might be the best backup center in the league at that time, even though we were asking him to start games. Ever since then, it's been all downhill for him. Part of it was that Chris Ford got fired after Montross's first season, and M.L. Carr took over as coach, and he just didn't use him the right way. The kid lost all his confidence, and then he got traded to Dallas and has been traded again twice since. I think Montross still could be an effective backup if someone would just spend some time with him and help him get his confidence back.

Of course, the Lakers ended up drafting Eddie Jones with the 10th pick, and he was a steal. He's been to two All-Star games and has proved he can be a big-time scorer as well as a great defender. No wonder Chris Ford wanted him so bad.

Most of the time when the Celtics ignored my advice, I didn't say anything. Hey, it's Gaston's money, it's his team. But there was one time, in 1996, when they were talking about trading their number six pick in the draft, plus their first-round pick the following season, to Toronto. The idea was to get the Raptors' number two pick in the 1996 draft so the Celtics could take Marcus Camby. For some reason, Gaston and M.L. were hot on the idea of getting Camby, but I told them I strongly objected to the deal.

They kept talking about how Camby was such a huge star at the University of Massachusetts, and how he would be a big draw, but I couldn't see that. I was upset about it, because I felt strongly that either Antoine Walker, who was a scoring forward from Kentucky, or Ray Allen, who was a shooting guard from Connecticut, would be much stronger picks and would be there when we selected sixth. Plus, we knew Boston wasn't going to be that strong in the upcoming season, which meant the draft pick in 1997 had a chance of being a very high pick (number three, as it turned out). Even after I said all this, I could sense that they were still going to do it. I was flying back to Indiana that day, and I remember that after the meeting I told Gaston, "I can't leave town knowing you might make that trade. Tell me you won't make that deal." He never gave me an answer.

Thankfully, they didn't make the trade, and Boston drafted Antoine Walker with the sixth pick. Walker is a terrific talent, a superstar in the making. I love the way he plays. He passes the ball so well for a big man, and he can rebound. He takes a lot of bad shots, but he's still young, and a good coach will get that straightened out. Camby has talent, too, but it's hard to say how good he is, because he's injured so much. Maybe now that he's been traded to New York and will be around all those veterans, his game will blossom.

As it turned out, in the summer of 1997, after Walker's first season in Boston, Gaston came to me and said they were ready to replace M.L. as head coach. He asked me to put a list together of the names I thought would be good choices. I asked him if he had talked to M.L. about it, and he assured me M.L. understood they needed to go in a different direction and that M.L. was going to be taken care of, with a different job in the organization.

I started quietly making up my list. Not long after that, I noticed M.L. was acting a little funny. Something was definitely wrong, so I went in to talk to him, and he was really hot. He started saying to me, "How could you do this behind my back?" He was really mad. He said he had gotten a call from someone in Cleveland who said I had contacted the Cavaliers to see if the Celtics could get permission to talk to their coach, Mike Fratello, about the coaching opening they would have at the end of the season. M.L. said that was how he found out he was going to be replaced.

The funny thing about that was I never did call Cleveland to ask about Fratello. It's not because I didn't think Fratello would be good, it's just that I knew he was under contract and doing a good job there, and I didn't expect he'd be available. I was concentrating on finding people who I thought might be ready to move on.

Anyhow, M.L. was upset. He said to me, "How could you betray me, after all we've been through together?" That's when I told him, "Listen, you better call up your boss, because Gaston told me you knew all about this. He told me you knew everything. You're mad at the wrong guy." I could tell M.L. didn't believe me, so I closed the door, and I called up Gaston in New York and got him on the phone. After a minute or so, Gaston admitted, with both of us listening, that he made a mistake by not telling M.L. He told M.L., "I'm sorry. I forgot."

I can understand M.L. being upset, but I wasn't out to hurt him. I thought he had been told he was being replaced. I think M.L. was feeling I might want the Celtics coaching job, and I was going back-door on him to get it, but I had no interest in doing that. I had already made up my mind that I was leaving the Celtics as soon as I finished the coaching search. I just hadn't told them yet.

M.L. and I go back a long way. He was one of the best teammates I ever had, but our relationship will never be the same. I hope he understands I was just trying to make the franchise better. I was also following orders. M.L. wasn't the only one upset about the coaching job. Dennis Johnson, who was an assistant coach with Boston and had played with me on the 1984 and 1986 championship teams with the Celtics, was hurt that his name hadn't appeared on the list of candidates. D.J. and I won a lot of big games together, and I always said he was one of the best clutch players I've ever seen. I think D.J. would make a good coach, but I knew Gaston had someone a lot more high-profile in mind. He had no intention of hiring D.J., that's for sure. My understanding was that D.J. would be kept regardless of who the head coach was. That turned out not to be the case. He was fired later that year. By then, I was in the middle of negotiations with the Pacers and talking about putting together my own coaching staff. I found out later that D.J. was upset because I didn't offer him an assistant's job in Indiana, but I thought he was set in Boston. I also thought he wanted to be a head coach. Besides, I had already made up my mind that I was going to use two assistants, not three. It was clear to me that Paul Gaston wanted Rick Pitino to be his coach, so I called up Pitino and asked him if he was interested. He said he liked his situation in Kentucky, but he asked me a lot of questions. I probably talked to him two or three times, and it was always the same: He said he wasn't interested, then would pump me for more information. He'd ask me things like, "So what are the Celtics going to do with M.L.?" Later on, he started asking me about Red and his role in the organization. Every time we talked, I sensed he was getting closer and closer to taking the job, even though he kept insisting he didn't want it.

Until those phone calls, I had no history with Rick Pitino. I scouted his Kentucky teams for the Celtics, and I was impressed with the way they trapped and applied defensive pressure - it was hard not to be - but I had no relationship with him at all. I have very few memories of him as coach of the Knicks, other than that those teams always played hard and gave us trouble. But in terms of having a personal opinion about him, I didn't. I had no feelings for him one way or the other.

Even though I felt from the beginning that Pitino would end up with the job, my first choice would have been Kansas coach Roy Williams. I thought he was a perfect fit for the Celtics. His system would be great in the pros. His teams run, but they can slow it up. And his style is right to the point. That's what I like. His players always seemed disciplined and fundamentally sound, too.

Williams sounded really flattered when I called. He said the pros might be something that would interest him someday, but he was happy with his job and wasn't ready to make a move. At that time, Kansas had a lot of talent, with Raef LaFrentz and Paul Pierce, and he said the timing just wasn't right. I could tell he was being sincere, not using it as leverage, and I appreciated that. So I crossed him off the list.

The other name I gave Paul Gaston was Bob Hill. I always felt he had done a good job as head coach of the Knicks and the Pacers. I liked him because he's firm, and he knows the game, and I felt he'd have the respect of the team. But when I brought up his name to Gaston, I could tell it wasn't going to happen. Bob Hill might be a good coach, but he wasn't a big enough name for the Celtics.

Larry Brown was a big enough name, and everyone knew he was unhappy in Indiana and looking to make a move. I checked with some of my contacts, and they all said there was no way he'd be back with the Pacers next year, so I called the Pacers and asked permission to talk to him about the Celtics job. They said yes. By this time, Pitino had told the media he was not leaving Kentucky. I remember being surprised when I heard that, because I really thought he was ready to come to Boston, in spite of all his denials. Gaston told me to call Bob Hill and tell him they had decided not to interview him, and I felt bad about that, because I figured they could at least talk to him. But the feeling I was getting was that Larry Brown was now their man, and I was very happy about that. He is the perfect coach to bring in when you want to turn something around. He runs a great practice, he's a perfectionist, and he lives for basketball. If Larry Brown ended up as the Celtics coach, there was no doubt in my mind he'd get them back on track. He seemed as if he was the front-runner, but I was guessing. Once I gave the Celtics my list of coaches, I was frozen out. The Celtics weren't telling me anything.

Brown interviewed with the Celtics and called me afterward. He sounded excited. He told me, "I think I've got the job." He said Gaston told him he needed just a couple of more days, and he'd get back to him with the details. I congratulated him and wished him luck.

Next thing you know - BOOM! - Larry Brown is not the next coach of the Celtics. A couple of days turned into a week, and suddenly Pitino was back in it. I don't know how it all happened, because I was out in the cold at that point, but various newspapers later reported that Larry Brown and Rick Pitino were playing in a golf tournament in California and Larry told Rick he thought he had the Boston job, and he was just waiting for the owner to wrap everything up. The next thing you know, Rick is back in the picture, and Larry Brown is out of a job.

When I heard what happened, I was sick about it. Larry called me up and said, "What is going on?" I couldn't give him an answer. The truth was, I had no idea what was happening. I called up Gaston and said, "What are you doing? You've got this guy sitting over here wanting the job, and you're messing around with him. You're leaving him hanging. Do you want him or not?" But Gaston wouldn't tell me. He said if Larry Brown wants to get another job, then he should do that.

That's when I knew Pitino was in and Larry Brown was out, and it ticked me off. It was done all wrong. I had no problem with Rick Pitino being the coach - it was the way it was handled that bothered me. Larry Brown should have been treated with far more respect throughout the process, and Paul Gaston should have been more straightforward with me. But neither one of those things happened. In the end, all I could do was call Larry and apologize. Soon after that, the Sixers hired Larry Brown. I bet the first thing he did was circle all the dates on his schedule when his team played Boston.

I knew what was coming next. Pitino officially accepted the job as coach of the Celtics and fired a whole bunch of people who had been with the team for years, which is what I would have done, too, if I had taken over some management role in that organization. There's no question that a fresh start was the best way to go with the Celtics. Actually, Pitino was smart enough to have Gaston fire all those people before he came on board, but everybody knew who was calling the shots.

Pitino didn't fire Auerbach, but he changed his title of president to vice chairman of the board. I felt bad for Red, because he's the reason the Boston Celtics were the best organization in basketball. As far as I'm concerned, he saved the NBA, not just the Celtics, by the way he coached and won championships. From what I understand, Red was pretty upset about it, but he wasn't too happy with me either.

During the process of finding a coach, I did an interview with the Globe, and in the story I said I could never be coach of the Celtics, because I would have to make some tough changes, including firing people I liked. I said there were too many people trying to make decisions for the team, and then I made a comment about how I hardly ever agreed with Red on anything, so how could I coach his team? It was a joke, but I guess Red didn't find it very funny. The thing is, he took it the wrong way. I'm telling you right now: If I ever had taken the coaching job or general manager's job for the Celtics, I would have had Red right there beside me. He would have been president forever if I had any say in it. I have the highest regard for him, and I always will.

I don't understand exactly what happened between me and Red, but I'm just as stubborn as he is. If Red's ticked off with me, that's fine. I always say if you don't like somebody, then don't be around them. But I think there's mutual respect there, even if we never talk again the rest of our lives.

I did call him after the article ran, because I heard he was steaming about it. I said, "Red, I understand you are upset about some things I said." He told me, "No, Larry, that's a bunch of bull. We're fine. Larry, you were always one of my favorites." I told him, "I don't really care whether you like me or not, Red, just as long as your wife, Dot, still does."

By the time we hung up, I figured everything was fine. But then about two weeks later a friend of mine called me up and said, "I talked to Red today, and he was killing you. He's really mad at you for saying that stuff." So I guess we've got a problem. All I can tell you is that it hasn't changed my feelings for the man.

It's too bad my time with the Celtics ended that way. I had some great years in Boston, and I still love it out there. I'd love to go back someday, but things have changed, and that whole organization is completely different than it was. There's nothing for me there now.

It's disappointing that so many relationships I had with people fell apart. But I would feel a lot worse about it if I thought I had done something wrong. I'm not wrong. I'm sorry M.L. didn't like it that he lost the coaching job, but it wasn't my decision. And I never would have purposely kept it from him about looking for a new coach. I thought he knew. And I feel bad that Dennis Johnson was frustrated. He, like everyone else, probably thinks I should just stop everything and tell the Pacers to hire him, but I can't do that. I don't believe that should end our friendship.

In the end, it all comes down to one thing: Sports is a business. I'm sure Pitino would tell you the same thing. The one thing I did find unbelievable was how Pitino kept telling the media that the only way he'd take the job is if I stayed on with the Celtics. He knew that was never going to happen, because I told him that. He made it sound as if he wanted me to be the general manager or something, which I never would have agreed to, but you know what he offered me? An assistant coach's job. I told him the best thing that could possibly happen was for me to move on, so he wouldn't have to look over his shoulder all the time.

That's when I resigned from the Celtics. I have never looked back.


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