It’s Final Four weekend in the Valley of the Sun, but whenever we get to this point in the season, we can’t help but reminisce. Sometimes, we like to simply remind readers about a player or a team from the past that shouldn’t be forgotten.
We suspect that since Lew Alcindor (Kareem Abdul-Jabbar)’s college exploits preceded the ESPN generation, weaned on Michael Jordan and other stars since the ‘80s, that most media sorts and modern-day college hoops “insiders” have no frame of reference for Alcindor’s achievements while at UCLA, other than perhaps to lump Big Lew’s three NCAA titles as a Bruin with the full complement of ten national championships won by HC John Wooden from 1964-75. Indeed, we’ve even heard some respected college hoops aficionados overlook Alcindor and his dominance, noting simply that “it was UCLA” that was winning in those years, while neglecting to even mention Big Lew alongside Jordan, Magic Johnson, or Larry Bird. Somehow, in the minds of many, Alcindor’s accomplishments in college were perhaps minimized because he played at UCLA, where, the thought goes, it was Wooden and the Bruin system that made the champions.
(Note our reference to Abdul-Jabbar as Alcindor in this piece because that is how he was known in his days at UCLA.)
We respectfully disagree with any such assertions. While acknowledging the two national titles that UCLA won in 1964 and ‘65, prior to Alcindor’s enrollment, it was mostly because of Big Lew that the Bruins would become a dynasty for the ages, separated from the early ‘60s Cincinnati sides and the mid ‘50s, Bill Russell-led USF teams and any successive powerhouse programs that stayed on top for only a couple of seasons.
Simply, the most important UCLA player of them all was Big Lew. Alcindor, in our opinion, was also the most-impactful college player of all time…certainly more so than Jordan, Bird, or Big Lew’s future NBA teammate, Magic Johnson, whose combined accomplishments in college did not approach those of Alcindor.
Remember, the college sports landscape was much different for nearly 20 years prior to the 1972-73 season, as freshmen were not eligible for varsity competition. They would instead compete against other all-“frosh” teams, or, in some instances, lower-level college or junior college entries.
And perhaps the most famous “frosh” team of all-time was the powerhouse UCLA “Brubabes” featuring Alcindor in 1965-66. Wooden had assembled a powerhouse recruiting class after his second consecutive NCAA title in 1965, with the 7-2 Alcindor, lured across country by Wooden from Power Memorial in New York City, the centerpiece. Sports Illustrated, in those days the validator of major national storylines and which would usually pay about as much attention to freshman sports as it would tiddlywinks, nonetheless devoted a feature in its December 5 issue to Alcindor and his fellow frosh, right after coverage about the previous week’s biggest story, Muhammad Ali’s 12th-round stoppage of Floyd Patterson in the heavyweight title bout at the Las Vegas Convention Center.
Yes, Alcindor was already big news before he played a game; SI even labeled him as “the most publicized Los Angeles newcomer since Vivian Leigh was picked for the female lead in Gone With The Wind.”
Of course, Alcindor and his frosh teammates (who included other future Bruin stars such as Lucius Allen, Lynn Shackelford, and Kenny Heitz) debuted in a fashion that required national coverage. UCLA was opening its brand-new on-campus facility, Pauley Pavilion, for the 1965-66 season, and was the overwhelming preseason number one in the polls. To christen the new facility, Wooden decided he wanted to showcase his bumper crop of frosh against the defending national champion varsity Bruins.
The frosh-vs.-varsity game would also be televised live to a local audience in Los Angeles. Although the varsity Bruins were a bit under-strength with G Freddie Goss missing the game due to illness, and Wooden did more substituting than he might in a normal regular-season game, the best team on the court that night was the UCLA frosh. The Brubabes more than held their own against the varsity first string, whose frontliners Doug McIntosh and Mike Lynn had been featured in the ’65 NCAA title game, were almost helpless against Alcindor, who scored 31 points, snared 21 rebounds and blocked 7 shots. Allen added 16 points, lefty Shackelford (and his arching “moon balls” from deep in the corner) scored 12 more, and the Brubabes waltzed to a 75-60 win. That UCLA frosh team would go on to an undefeated season, destroying almost every foe, and preceded a glorious Alcindor varsity era that began the next season (1966-67) when the Bruins would win the first of three straight NCAA titles with Big Lew.
Lew’s varsity debut the following year was no less heralded. Media outlets of the day covered UCLA as extensively as possible in that era. Sports Illustrated, in fact, was so smitten with the Alcindor storyline that its 1966-67 preview edition featured a rare fold-out cover of Big Lew, superimposed over a picture of a Bruin cheerleader, with only Alcindor’s legs and a ball appearing on the front before the rest of Lew appeared in the fold-out section with the accompanying “The New Superstar” headline.
Wooden, however, only made a few concessions to Lew’s presence. Alcindor played a low post on offense, with cutting guards steering clear of him so as not to crowd his territory. On normal defense he mostly played a one-man zone under the basket despite efforts to draw him out. Otherwise there was little change from the familiar, successful UCLA game plan. If opponents tried to let the air out of the ball, the Bruins could press with a half-court trap. And UCLA still used the famous Wooden zone press as it always had—after it scored and as a surprise at other times.
Alcindor prepped for the assignment by playing a man-to-man press in high school and with the 21-0 Brubabes. Depending on where he was when the Bruins scored, for the full-court press he either played the safety-man position or at the extreme other end of the court, covering the man who was trying to throw the ball in bounds. Getting the ball past Alcindor’s wingspread quickly unnerved various opposing teams.
Big Lew’s offensive moves were also refined, although it would be another year before he began to develop (at the behest of Wooden) his signature “sky hook,” which became a necessity after the college powers legislated the dunk out of the game following Alcindor’s 1966-67 soph varsity debut season, ostensibly as a reaction to Big Lew’s dominance. Which always reminded us of a quote from the late Jim Brown’s excellent book, Out of Bounds, in which he was talking about his old friend Wilt Chamberlain, and how rules were changed to widen the key a decade earlier in an attempt to somewhat neutralize Wilt. “Anytime a guy makes them change the rules,” said Brown of Chamberlain, “you know he’s Nasty.” Brown could have also been talking about Alcindor and the dunk rule that was altered because of Lew’s dominance.
It’s worth noting that none of the more-modern era stars like Michael Jordan ever forced the game to change its rules as did Alcindor (or Chamberlain, for that matter).
Alcindor had some help from his talented classmates, although it should be mentioned that the 1966-67 Bruins were minus a couple of expected important contributors when holdover F Edgar Lacey was still rehabbing a knee injury from the previous season and fellow F Mike Lynn was deemed ineligible before the campaign commenced. Although their absence didn’t slow UCLA one bit. Alcindor was dominating, soph teammate Allen was developing an instant rapport with junior backcourt mate Mike Warren, and with defenses sagging on Big Lew, Shackelford was getting plenty of clear looks for his “moon balls” from the corner.
Big Lew, however, was in a different stratosphere. In the first game of the Alcindor era, the Bruins and crosstown Southern Cal met in a non-conference game (as they sometimes would in those years, in addition to occasional collisions in the old Los Angeles Holiday Classic at the L.A. Sports Arena). All Big Lew did in his varsity debut was score 56 points vs. SC (in HC Bob Boyd’s debut) in a 105-90 Bruins romp at a frenzied Pauley Pavilion.
Although Alcindor didn’t tally 50+ points every night in his varsity debut season, he was scoring (29 ppg) and rebounding (15.5 pg) plenty while hitting a spectacular 66.7% from the floor. Moreover, nobody was coming close to the Big Lew Bruins, who had assumed the top ranking in the polls in December and appeared to be unchallenged. Moreover, Alcindor was inviting all sorts of tricks and gimmick defenses by opposing coaches, but to no avail, as Big Lew dominated at both ends of the court.
One opposing coach, however, had a radical idea how to best combat the Alcindor Bruins, dusting off the old “stall” that had been in mothballs for several years. Although, until the day he passed, we do not dare refer to the particular February 4, 1967 game at the LA Sports Arena between crosstown USC and UCLA as a “stall” in front of then-Trojan HC Boyd, a friend who affixed an icy stare and reminded you to choose your words more carefully. “We didn’t call it a stall,” Boyd would say, forcefully. “It was a slowdown.”
Call it whatever, but Boyd reckoned (quite correctly) that the best way to combat the Alcindor Bruins was to take the air out of the ball. The lack of a shot clock in those days, and rules that made it possible to simply hold the ball, made the slowdown/stall worth a look, even if it had rarely been employed since teams used it in desperation against Wilt Chamberlain’s Kansas teams a decade earlier.
Soon after the opening tip, Boyd unveiled his strategy. It helped that the Trojans never let the Bruins out of their sights in the first few minutes. And when SC had the ball, Boyd simply spread the court, keeping his center above the foul line, daring Alcindor to come out of the low post to play defense.
“I told (center) Ron Taylor,” Boyd said to us several years ago, “to just wait for Alcindor to come out and get him. If it meant holding the damned ball for five minutes, then he was going to hold it.”
The Bruins mostly refused to take the bait. Alcindor would mostly venture out only as far as the free-throw line, where he stood, occasionally bending over to touch the palms of his hands to the floor, but Taylor wouldn’t budge, on several occasions merely holding the ball while nothing transpired, just as ordered by Boyd.
Boyd’s genius, however, was reflected when Big Lew finally would move away from the low post. “We would then cut and back cut to the basket until we got a layup,” said Boyd. The strategy was working; SC took a stunning 17-14 lead into halftime.
Sensing his team was in trouble, Wooden opted for a quicker lineup in the second half, benching Shackelford and Heitz for the quicker Donny Saffer and Bill Sweek, but the Trojans wouldn’t budge. The game stayed in the balance until the final minute, when a pair of Allen free throws knotted the game at 31 apiece. The Trojans had the ball for the final shot, but forward Bill Hewitt’s jumper rolled in and out, and overtime beckoned.
Boyd came under severe criticism for his strategy, with Wooden pouring fuel on the fire. Asked if he thought other coaches would also consider stalling, Wooden agreed…sort of. “Yes,” said the Wizard, “but I don’t think most coaches will try it. Too many coaches think too much of basketball to do it.”
Boyd was vilified, and controversy raged, especially at the following week’s L.A. Basketball Writers Luncheon, when Trojan AD Jess Hill came to the defense of his coach. “Any team that attempts to run against UCLA is doomed for devastation,” said Hill. “I don’t see much difference in stalling the last four minutes of the game—all coaches do it—or at the beginning.”
Motivated by Boyd’s slowdown tactics, however, several underdog coaches were emboldened to try the same thing later that season. Dartmouth, beaten 74 points by Princeton in the first meeting, employed its own stall in the rematch and gave the Tigers a much better fight. Penn tried the same thing vs. Butch Van Breda Kolff’s same Princeton Ivy heavyweights and was within a point with barely over a minute remaining before losing, 25-16. The next year, at the 1968 ACC Tournament in March, NC State coach Norm Sloan took the concept to extremes, ordering the deep freeze against a Duke team that had crushed the Wolfpack in the regular season. Sloan was hellbent to get Vic Bubas’ Blue Devils out of their zone defense, and the strategy paid off. Final score: NC State 12, Duke 10! Cries for the installation of a shot clock were reaching deafening volumes, thanks in part to Boyd bringing the slowdown/stall out of the dustbin against Alcindor’s UCLA.
Wooden thought he had an answer to any would-be imitators of Boyd and the stall. When Oregon coach Steve Belko tried the same stall trick a few weeks later in 1967 at Eugene, the Bruins found themselves in another tight game, leading only 18-14 at the half. Wooden, however, had conferred with his AD, J.D. Morgan, and decided to fight fire with, for the lack of a better term, a lack of fire. So, for the first time in his long career, other than end-of-game situations, Wooden ordered his UCLA team into a stall. In one excruciating nine-minute stretch of the second half at Mac Court, nary a shot was attempted, as Wooden seemed intent on sending a message that his team could employ the stall even more effectively than could any opponent, if the Wizard so wished. The Bruins won at Oregon, 34-25; no one “stalled” the Bruins for the remainder of Alcindor’s sophomore debut season.
(Although, in subsequent years, a handful of teams would try the same scheme, and Boyd would eventually make it work in the final game of the 1968-69 season, Alcindor’s last regular-season game at home, when USC won 46-44 in the Bruins’ first-ever loss at Pauley Pavilion).
It was more of the same in the regional final vs. Dick Edwards’ WCC champion Pacific Tigers, who had beaten Don Haskins’ defending NCAA champ Texas Western in the preceding round and actually held their own for a while behind their own star C, Keith Swagerty. Still, dealing with Big Lew proved too much for UOP in a handy 80-64 Bruins win.
How to best slow Alcindor was topic number one entering the Final Four. SI’s Frank Deford even devoted space to the dilemma confronting other coaches prior to the festivities in Louisville’s Freedom Hall, the Final Four host site that year, as it had often been over the previous decade.
Deford concluded his Final Four preview thusly.
But what about Alcindor? Seattle’s Lionel Purcell says run on him. Bob Boyd, whose Southern California team came closest to beating UCLA, advocates the ploy he used in that game: “Be ball-control-conscious,” he says. “And you must zone and double-team Lew.” Pete Newell, the California athletic director, thinks that’s ridiculous “What good does it do,” he asks, “putting a man in front of Alcindor so he can play his belly button?” Newell also votes against a press, because the UCLA guards, notably Mike Warren, would break it in a moment. Says Red Auerbach: “You might be able to congest the middle.” Pause. “No, Alcindor is so big and strong, he’d still get the ball and you would be just fouling and fouling trying to keep him from getting it.”
In the Final Four, the Bruins rolled past an expected serious challenge from Elvin Hayes and the Houston Cougars, 73-58 (part one of a trilogy vs. the Cougs; when time and space permit, we’ll revisit acts two and three vs. UH), and in the finale past Dayton, 79-64, a game nowhere near that close. Wooden had shown mercy on Flyer HC Don Donoher by removing Alcindor from the game with UCLA comfortably ahead 70-46 with just over five minutes to play, and then cleared his bench entirely when the lead mushroomed to 76-47.
With Sports Illustrated lamenting on its Final Four cover “How Alcindor Paralyzed the NCAA”, Deford found it easy to concede that the Bruins and Alcindor were something extraordinary.
Still, no matter how good so many of the Bruins are and how well they are coached by John Wooden, their game is Lew Alcindor. As a sophomore, he dominates the college sport much more than Bill Russell and Wilt Chamberlain do the pros—if only because collegians do not often encounter such a phenomenon. Of course, they learn fast enough. It did not take Houston long last Friday night to abandon its plan of attacking Alcindor and to move Elvin Hayes farther out for his shots. Against Dayton, Lew was credited with only four blocked shots, but they all came early. Some observers, watching Alcindor for the first time, evinced disappointment at this performance—only four blocked shots, indeed! Presumably they would also have been disenchanted with Aaron Burr for employing only one bullet to make a telling point with Alexander Hamilton. Lew has no more interest in overkill than Bertrand Russell does.
It is doubtful that Alcindor was ever tested fully all season, but the languid, almost bored attitude that he appears to affect on court is misleading. His teammates suggest that this is, simply, his style, and that he is not only alert and ready to assume command when necessary, but that he is feigning indifference to lure the opposition to him. He is not only a smart player but utterly selfless. “We play team,” he says, succinctly. “We don’t play one man. You lose playing one man.” It is significant that when the huge Houston front line was collapsing all over him, when he was also supposed to be in a grudge duel with Hayes, that he still refused to accept such a meaningless challenge. Again and again, holding the ball high, poised, turning, looking, thinking, he would make the right play—shoot or pass to the open man.
Alcindor’s influence is so pervasive that it is difficult to determine how good his teammates really are. For instance, Forward Lynn Shackelford made 16 baskets in 29 attempts in the two games, most of them on beautiful, long left-handed jumps. A great shooter? Who knows? Shackelford rarely has to shoot with a hand in his face. True, his shooting took some pressure off Lew inside, but the man guarding Shackelford was always halfway back, preparing to help out against Alcindor.
Against Houston in the national semis, a game that figured to be the Bruins’ biggest test, HC Guy Lewis thought his big and physical Cougs, with Elvin Hayes leading the charge, could go “right at” Alcindor and perhaps draw him into foul problems. No dice. Although UH hung tough for a while and even forged a 19-18 lead midway through the first half, a sudden 11-0 burst by the Bruins, with Alcindor blocking a couple of shots, deflecting passes on the press, and dunking another shot, allowed the Bruins to pull clear and ease away to victory. As mentioned, Dayton, with its star F Don May, was even less of a match in the finale, trailing 38-20 by the half and never having a look at the game.
Thus, the Alcindor scorecard for his “newcomer” season included AAWU and NCAA championships, an unblemished 30-0 record, All-American and Player of the Year, not to mention influencing a major rules change to outlaw the dunk shot as well as triggering the resurrection of the “stall” (er, in deference to Coach Boyd, “slowdown”) from dormant status.
Of course, the Alcindor legacy at UCLA would only be embellished further in the subsequent two years, when the Bruins also won national titles. Alcindor also was at the center of a bidding war between the NBA’s Milwaukee Bucks and the ABA’s New York Nets’ that some believed if Big Lew had actually opted for the ABA, it would have triggered a merger between the leagues perhaps five or six years earlier than it eventually did in 1976. But those are other tales we can revisit at a later date.
In conclusion, do you really want to believe those guys who keep talking about Michael Jordan and Larry Bird and Magic Johnson, or maybe Patrick Ewing or Christian Laettner, or maybe Carmelo Anthony, or anyone involved with the current UConn, as the most impactful college hoopsters, of all-time?
Not a chance. None of them compared to Alcindor, who dominated college hoops from the outset like no other. For those who can remember, there’s never been anything remotely close to as dominating a force in college hoops.
And, as Jim Brown might have said, when a guy makes them change the rules, you know he’s Nasty.