I was thinking of adding “Boston Celtics and pro basketball legend” to the title, but I depressed myself thinking it was necessary, which of course it is. When Bob Cousy retired, in 1962, there wasn’t a more famous NBA star alive. Now, not only is the play-making wizard who led the Boston Celtics through the beginning of their unparalleled dynasty unrecognizable to most Americans, so is the kind of basketball he played, before it was all dunking and styling by pituitary cases.
But I digress.
In the newly published book “Last Pass” by Gary Pomeranz, Cousy, the Hall of Fame Boston Celtics captain who led the team to its first six championships, opened up about his relationship with Bill Russell, the great, enigmatic, difficult, defensive genius who was the center on Cousy’s teams, and on many Celtics championship teams thereafter. Russell was the first back superstar in sports-crazy, perpetually racist Boston, and as he reaches 90, Cousy is reflecting on what he did, and what he didn’t do, as the white superstar on a team whose brilliant black center was often the target of racists. In the Boston suburb of Reading, vandals once broke into Russell’s home, spray-painted racist graffiti on walls and defecated on his bed. The Cooz, as he was called, is remembered as being ahead of his time as an NBA player in his sensitivity to race and civil rights. Still, Cousy blames himself for not having done enough, and for not having understood the depth of prejudice Russell faced as an African-American in Boston. Cousy told the historian that he wants to make amends.
To Boston’s white sportswriters the Celtics were Cousy’s team, not Russell’s, and as Russell became more publicly involved in the civil rights movement, a lot of anger and abuse was focused on the moody center who Cousy considered a friend and still does. But, as he says in the book and has in other interviews, they were close, and never discussed race. “I was timid, he was angry. You know, neither one of us ever said, after a game, “Let’s go and have a few beers together.”
When Cousy retired, Russell made an emotional speech calling him the best human being he ever knew. Cousy finally opened up to Russell, but only three years ago. He sent him a letter and Ta-Nehisi Coates’ “Between the World and Me,” saying, as he tells it, “Russ, I know you and I weren’t pen pals. And I’m sorry for that. I know we weren’t that close when you came to the team in ’56. I was the man, I had the media in the palm of my hand. You know, looking back on it, I should have done more to share your pain. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
Cousy is continuing his mea culpa and regrets in the new book. He says he wishes he had spoken out publicly against the racism that was constantly shadowing Russell. “I might have been able to neutralize some of this,” he says, “if I had been more outspoken.” He wishes, too, that, as Celtics captain, he had told Russell privately, “Russ, I’ve got your back.”
It is admirable and noble that Cousy has the self-perception and willingness to be self-critical to express these regrets. Perhaps his story will galvanize others to act in their youth, take the risk, speak out, take a stand, rather than waiting decades to regret what they did not do. Writes Pomeranz,
“It is rare in America for a white man approaching 90 to reconsider race and how it played out in his life. But that’s what Cousy has done. Most great athletes embellish and burnish stories about their past. Cousy is only trying to set the record straight. This is who I was. This is his final declaration: I wish I had done more.”
14 thoughts on “Ethics Hero: Bob Cousy”
Needed an uplifting story!
Black, low cut Chucks.
From his wiki page:
Cousy was the only son of poor French immigrants living in New York City. He grew up in the Yorkville neighborhood of Manhattan’s East Side, in the midst of the Great Depression. His father Joseph was a cab driver, who earned extra income by moonlighting. The elder Cousy had served in the German Army during World War I. Shortly after the war, his first wife died of pneumonia, leaving behind a young daughter. He married Julie Corlet, a secretary and French teacher from Dijon. At the time of the 1930 census, the family was renting an apartment in Astoria, Queens, for $50 per month. The younger Cousy spoke French for the first 5 years of his life, and started to speak English only after entering primary school. He spent his early days playing stickball in a multicultural environment, regularly playing with African Americans, Jews and other ethnic minority children. These experiences ingrained him with a strong anti-racist sentiment, an attitude he prominently promoted during his professional career.
Being from the South, it really pisses me off when Northerners look down their noses at Southerners for their (largely but not exclusively) formerly racist ways.
An awful lot of the ‘racism’ talked about in the South is the North projecting their racism onto southerners.
You’re being to gracious, sw. It’s just awful virtue signalling. In the South, black and white actually live together and have done so for a long, long time. For lots of northerners, black people are just a concept.
A couple of months ago if you’d asked if I was interested in reading a bio of Bob Cousy I would have said no but got intrigued after reading a review. The Last Pass is a superb book and I share your sentiments about Cousy. It’s also quite a meditation on aging.
The only Celtics game I ever attended was the Cooz’s last. He literally broke down in his speech to the crowd, and also revealed that he had a speech impediment: he talks like Elmer Fudd.I suspect that his famous shyness arose from that.
Never saw him play but remember the speech impediment from his broadcasting days.
FYI – Bob not Bill in the second sentence.
Bill is Cooz’s less famous younger, taller brother. Journeyman forward for the Hawks, Royals and Lakers (before they moved to LA).