The Golden Age of Basketball-Chapter 184 - 77 The Casual Iceman

Although nicknamed "The Train" for his large build and sporting an afro in his youth, Artis Gilmore was not a hotheaded big man; off the court, he was a rather gentle giant.

Most of the time, he was quiet and reserved. After the ABA merged into the NBA, he didn’t receive much attention. People only remembered him when he confronted Jabbar, reminding the league that there was someone who could match Jabbar in height and wingspan.

But Gilmore was not content with keeping a low profile; nearly 10 years after the ABA-NBA merger, he always felt that the ABA stars faced suppression in the NBA.

Most players who chose to enter the ABA came from poverty and were lured by larger contracts than the NBA offered. Gilmore, who grew up so poor that he had to pick watermelons in the fields to make money, chose to sign with the Kentucky Colonels in 1971 as a highly anticipated talent.

In the ABA, he played exceptionally well, winning Rookie of the Year, regular season MVP, and an ABA championship, making him one of the league’s marquee stars, second only to Julius Erving (during the ABA, coaches had a rule that Erving could only be fouled, not hurt, and blocking his dunk would result in a $50 fine).

However, after the leagues merged, Gilmore went to the Chicago Bulls, where he felt the attention he received was dwindling, and even the commentators couldn’t pronounce his name correctly, calling him "Elmoar."

In the limited media space, the fans saw the likes of Jabbar, Havlicek, Larry Bird, and Magic Johnson. ABA players like Gilmore seemed forgotten, only mentioned in passing as a backdrop.

For instance, in the 1977 playoffs, they lost 1:2 in the first round to the eventual champions, the Portland Trail Blazers, seemingly just a stepping stone on their path to victory.

Gilmore disliked the Trail Blazers—an aversion linked to Bill Walton and Maurice Lucas, both his "enemies."

Walton, who had led the UCLA Golden Bears to victory over Gilmore’s Jacksonville Dolphins in the 1970 NCAA final, had been dubbed Gilmore’s nemesis; Walton defeated him again in 1977.

Coming from poverty, Gilmore had little respect for Walton’s flamboyance. This frequently injured white center continued to grab media attention, with coverage focusing on his political beliefs, musical preferences, and hippie-style fashion, even after his career quieted down due to injuries.

As for Maurice Lucas, he and Gilmore had clashed during their ABA days. In a match between the Kentucky Colonels and the St. Louis Spirits, Gilmore and Lucas had a confrontation that led to a rare fistfight from the otherwise peaceful Gilmore.

Lucas, then a rookie, was not intimidated and kept dodging Gilmore’s punches, retreating all the way to the baseline until suddenly landing a combination of heavy punches to Gilmore’s chin and knocking him to the ground.

Witnesses and teammates later described how Gilmore first knelt down, then his waist collapsed, arms flayed open, and lastly, his body and head hit the floor with a thunderous fall, as though a great statue had toppled, shocking everyone present.

The punch not only knocked Gilmore down physically but also spiritually; he had never suffered such a great humiliation.

His agent Herb Rudoy immediately flew in from Chicago to provide him with psychological counseling, and it took a while for him to recover. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Since then, he found it hard to harbor any affection for the Portland Trail Blazers; each time he came here, he brought with him a sense of anger. Last season, even when not in top form due to injuries, Gilmore still managed to score the second-highest season point total of 26 in the Memorial Coliseum, hitting 11 out of 17 shots. He detested the fervor of Portland people and enjoyed cooling it down.

During halftime, Kenny-Carl explained to Gan Guoyang some of the grievances between Gilmore and the Trail Blazers, which accounted for why the old train was so fierce and angry in the first half.

"He probably dislikes you too. Look at your attire—wearing an extra layer under your basketball shorts, those flashy shoes that get you fined every game, chewing gum in your mouth... what’s that thing on your arm?"

"It’s an Avia armband; it prevents sweat from dripping down."

"Why don’t you wear a knitted wristband?"

"A wristband? That thing looks like my grandmother’s sleeve protector; I’d never wear that."

At the suggestion of Gan Guoyang, Avia was developing various basketball accessories.

Such as armbands, headbands, leg wraps, wristbands, and more. After trying some, Gan Guoyang found the armband to be the most suitable for him.

Other items like wristbands were comfortable because of their sweat absorption and were worn by many players, but he thought they lacked distinctiveness and were ugly.

Headbands were even further from Gan Guoyang’s consideration, as they would interfere with his handsome appearance and pleasant demeanor.

Gan Guoyang popped in a new piece of gum and said, "Since Lucas gave him a punch during his rookie year, and ten years have passed, he must have forgotten what it feels like. I’ll just give him another punch then."

Kenny-Carl replied, "Using fists is too dangerous. You could go for a body slam. I bet you’re no less strong than Gilmore."

Carl was eager to see who was stronger between Gan Guoyang and Gilmore.

Gan Guoyang mulled it over; at 7 feet 2 inches, Gilmore wouldn’t be easy to knock down.

Adelman said, "Kenny, don’t give Ah Gan any bad ideas. We’ve got the Christmas game coming up, and no one wants Ah Gan to be suspended."

However, Ramsay remarked, "If Artis goes too far, knocking him down isn’t a big deal. Our inside line should play tougher, especially against teams from the Western Conference — we have many more games against them later on."

Adelman looked at Ramsay and asked, "Jack, is that appropriate?"

"There’s nothing inappropriate about it. He’ll know what to do." Ramsay finished his statement and continued to arrange tactics for the second half, not at all concerned about whether Gan Guoyang would actually come to blows with Gilmore.

Inside, Gan Guoyang actually calmed down. The primary task on the basketball court was to play the game, not to fight. If it became unbearable, then he’d take action, but until then he should focus on playing well.

He stopped worrying about any grudge between Gilmore and the Trail Blazers and concentrated on listening to Ramsay’s tactical arrangements.

The Trail Blazers had the upper hand in the first half, ending it with a 4-point lead, but they weren’t playing smoothly.

Gan Guoyang may have been too focused on his tussle with Gilmore inside and thus overlooked the performance of the Spurs’ other positions — for instance, the Spurs’ star, George Gervin.

He was lean with a large head and a bit of a hunchback. He wasn’t fast and his vertical jump was mediocre. He looked lackadaisical on the court, not going for rebounds or playing defense, and then he casually scored 16 points in the first half.

In the face of the fiery confrontation between Gan Guoyang and Gilmore on the inside, George Gervin didn’t care. He was only interested in how to throw the ball into the basket. His shooting style, which was more of a lob than a throw, added to his unhurried demeanor on the court, which is why he got the nickname "Iceman."

This unremarkable-looking shooting guard had once been one of the deadliest scorers in both the ABA and NBA, famous for scoring 33 points in one quarter, outdoing David Thompson to claim the scoring title.

But that wasn’t all there was to him.

Under Doug Moe, Gervin led the Spurs in taking the concept of "lax" to its extreme. A team that didn’t care about rebounds or defense, putting almost all their energy into offense, they averaged 119 points per regular-season game, and they were one step away from the finals: they were up 3-1 before the defending champion Bullets made a comeback.

The other side of their "lax" approach was actually "freedom." Unlike the Spurs team people knew later, the Spurs of the ’70s stood for unbridled freedom, like wild horses on the Texas plains.

Doug Moe, the coach of the Spurs at the time, graduated from North Carolina and learned from Dean Smith. He and Larry-Brown were fraternal coaches and good friends, yet their coaching paths were worlds apart, each heading towards polar opposite extremes.

Moe practiced liberalism at the Spurs, holding practice every other day, allowing players to bring their pet dogs to train with them on the court. It was said that if a dog urinated on the floor, Doug Moe would dismiss the practice and go play golf.

The team had no fixed tactics, just one principle: the ball shouldn’t stay in one person’s hands for more than two seconds. The rest involved constant screens, movement, and passing until a player found a shooting opportunity.

The team’s roster was assembled in a peculiar manner: Gervin, at 6 feet 8 inches, was the tallest shooting guard; they had a center converted to power forward (Mike Green), a power forward converted to backup center (Koby Dietrick), and a power forward turned guard (Larry Kenon).

This wild horse of freedom died in 1979 from excessive indulgence and a lack of luck, and history eventually recorded them as a classic example of "an offense that couldn’t win a championship."

This season, at 32 years old, Gervin should have still been in his prime, but his already slim physique was further ravaged by drugs and alcohol. In this condition, he still managed to contribute 21 points per game with a 50% shooting rate, but he was no longer the Iceman who scored as naturally as drinking water.

"In the first half, we didn’t put enough pressure on the perimeter defense, allowing Gervin to take some too-simple shots. Our inside and outside lines need to cooperate more, connect better. We are disjointed — the inside and outside lines are disjointed, and so are offense and defense. Everyone needs to pay attention in the second half. Also, Valentine, be more careful when you handle the ball and reduce the turnovers. You can pass the ball to Cheche or Jim to control, and Clyde, you too. Let’s bring out our sense of urgency!"

Ramsay made the plans for the second half. Valentine had been stolen from twice in the first half by the Spurs’ rookie Alvin Robertson, and the Spurs’ guard Johnny Moore was also adept at steals.

With the addition of Alvin Robertson, the Spurs’ average steals per game went from mid-league to one of the top five in the league.

Of course, with Ah Gan, the Trail Blazers’ perimeter steals were ranked first in the league, averaging 11 per game.

This was due to Ah Gan’s own strong stealing ability, as well as the pressure he and his teammates applied to their opponents on the perimeter.

Halftime ended, and Ah Gan adjusted his mentality, ready to take the court again.

At that moment, Adelman came over to deliver a message, "Dr. Jack says to focus more on team defense in the second half, and not to get too tangled up with Gilmore. Of course, if he really pisses you off, you can KO him. But before that, please widen our lead."