ALL-TIME GREAT: Walt Hazzard, who died Nov. 18, was respected by his teammates and opponents alike during his playing career — first his college at UCLA, then the NBA. He closely followed the Bruins in his later years. (
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What people on the sidelines remember most about Walt Hazzard was his commanding presence on UCLA’s initial 1963 Final Four foray and the succeeding season’s first NCAA championship for coach John Wooden … the Wizard of Westwood-in-waiting for 15 years, all winning ones, if you must know.
What those hovering over Hazzard in the wake of his playing and coaching careers abidingly recall is his valor, how he refused to let a stroke prevent him from living life. Another heightened memory is how there was always an attentive family member — wife, Jaleesa, or one of four sons — by his side …
… Or a forever teammate from high school (Wali Jones), college (Gail Goodrich), gold-medal ’64 Olympics (Joe Caldwell, George Wilson and Richard Davies) or the NBA (Earl Monroe) reaching out to him.
Two years younger than Hazzard and Jones — and late being hypnotized by the synchronization and illusion of basketball — Monroe tried to be around them whenever he could. He’d find a place to sit along the fence in one of Philadelphia’s exalted playgrounds and hope for an occasional chance to get chosen as a fifth man.
“Those two guys were something to see,” Monroe said. “But when I looked at them, what I admired most was how tight they were. And I continue to marvel at how very, very tight they remained till death did they part.
“Their relationship is one for the record books,” Monroe pronounced. “They prospered ego-free in the same backcourt (for three Overbook High terror squads, victimizing 89 of 92 opponents). They understood each other. And both converted to Islam. If they were in the same area, when you saw one, you were going to see the other in a blink.”
That became terribly too true following Hazzard’s stroke in 1996 that confined him to a wheelchair for the next dozen years or so.
“Last time I saw him he was on his feet. Then a heart problem knocked him down again,” Monroe lamented. Hazzard died on Nov. 18.
On just about every trip to the Staples Center, I’d see Hazzard after games sitting outside the Lakers’ locker room. I made sure to show him the proper respect.
I’m unsure when Jerry West hired Hazzard as a consultant … after he was relieved of his coaching duties by UCLA or following his stroke. One way or the other, staying close to the action and feeling useful gave his mind a positive place to be each day. Traveling to annual NBA retired players get-togethers in different cities gave his soul a lift.
Watching how affectionately Wali took care of Walt at these functions is a memory John Egan cherishes. The 10-year veteran and former Rockets head coach terms Jones’ tenderness as “One of the great acts of life.” He has never seen anything like it. Even if the same blood didn’t flow through them, “They were brothers,” Egan said. “Wali loved Walt. We all need a Wali in our life.”
At Providence, Lenny Wilkens and Egan arguably formed the preeminent backcourt in college history. By phone, Sonny Hill brusquely disputed that notion, branding Temple’s Guy Rodgers and Hal Lear the best duet ever.
As their stainless 30-0 title season attests, Goodrich and Hazzard undeniably belong in such consecrated conversation.
When researching pieces such as this, it’s reliably amazing how little I know about subjects I considered myself an authority. For example, Sports Illustrated hailed Hazzard “Wizard” long before Wooden was dubbed that subsequent to a cluster of excruciatingly exquisite escapades.
I also was oblivious to Wali dominating Overbrook’s ball handling responsibilities until Jones graduated in midseason. Hill says Philly sports’ pecking order is serious business. More to the point, so to speak, Hazzard played forward, Jones divulged, “until I left in February.”
Another fascinating revelation was learning that the team flaunted a third future pro. Wayne Hightower was its center and followed Wilt Chamberlain at Overbrook, then to Kansas.
Monroe, by the way, claims Dipper used to dunk from the free throw line … taking one giant step without saying, “May I?” … on foul shots. Thus, the first of countless rule changes designed to neuter Chamberlain.
I don’t think Monroe was kidding when he informed me Overbrook’s gym was (is?) so small players were allowed to run up the wall hugging one baseline and dunk.
Speaking with “commissioner” Hill has always been educating.
“Not only,” he said, “did an Overbrook player (Hazzard) launch Wooden’s reputation” as the ultimate winner in the coaching profession — excluding, of course, Phil Jackson (crowned 11 times) — “but an Overbrook player (Andre McCarter) was instrumental (14 assists) in Wooden attaining his 10th and final championship in 1975.”
Then there’s the untold (or long forgotten) explanation, volunteered Goodrich, about how UCLA lucked into Hazzard.
In 1957, Abe Saperstein somehow was allowed to sell Globetrotter Woody Sauldsberry’s contract to the 76ers. The team was run by miserly Eddie Gottlieb, who once asked a player to return 12 cents he mistakenly gave him in excess meal money months before. One of the NBA’s founding fathers, Gottlieb supposedly pledged to make Saperstein a partner if he fed him some talented Trotters — Andy Johnson was next in ’58. It never happened and they had a falling out.
At any rate, the 6-foot-7 Sauldsberry became the 76ers’ second black player. Jackie Moore, a LaSalle teammate of Tom Gola, was first in ’54. When he was released three seasons later, the quota system of one or less employed by the league’s eight teams, tolerated Sauldsberry acquisition. Hence the release of Lear in ’56 after Philly’s home-grown draftee played a total of 14 minutes in three games. This practice was expanded to two black players upon Johnson’s arrival. Sauldsberry was from Winnsboro, Los Angeles. In those days, players and fans had no respect for your game if you weren’t from Philly or New York, or at least had proved yourself at The Palestra or Madison Square Garden. That perception faded fast when Sauldsberry and Johnson, by way of North Hollywood High and the University of Portland, demonstrated they could ball as well as a brutal disinclination to back down when challenged.
Both players were quickly accepted by the fans and they made themselves available to the community. Such accessibility allowed Hazzard to get close enough to Sauldsberry to notice both wore size 14 shoes … the biggest score of his childhood.
At the same time, Sauldsberry would watch Hazzard play whenever possible, and that turned out to be Wooden’s biggest score … although it’s not as if UCLA even wanted him. In fact, Wooden had never made a play for hot shot on the East Coast. Goodrich says the first time he so much as heard of Hazzard was when Willie Naulls mentioned him as someone the coach might want to consider.
Wooden valued Naulls’ opinion probably more than any of his former players. He was UCLA’s most prolific scorer and, if not for a fairly formidable San Francisco Dons’ outfit, frontloaded by Bill Russell and K.C. Jones, Naulls’ ’55-56 teams might very well have won back-to-back titles.
At Sauldsberry urging, Naulls had checked out Hazzard. Wooden asked for his assessment.
“I know he’s pretty good, I just can’t tell how good compared to other players.” Then Naulls added, “I also saw a New York kid named Connie Hawkins. I know for sure he’s really good.”
Sight unseen, Wooden offered Hazzard a full scholarship. Sauldsberry advocated he seize the opportunity. There was one slight hitch: Walt didn’t have the grades to get into UCLA, so he enrolled at Santa Monica JC.
Goodrich’s first glimpse of Hazzard was at a Bruins practice the coveted local HS senior scorer had been invited to attend.
“I saw this guy dressed in a janitor’s uniform shooting on the other side of the gym and he looked pretty impressive … especially since he had about 1,001 keys dangling from his belt.”
Before life-altering introductions were made, Wooden said softly, “He can really play. We hope to have him here next season.”
Strangely, Hazzard did not play a tick for Santa Monica. Then again, once Wooden worked him out, he must have figured it’d be wise to hide him from colleges in the area until he became eligible and officially had enlisted.
In theory, that made sense as long as Hazzard hung out exclusively with UCLA’s campus custodians. Instead, he joined Kirby Shoes, an AAU team comprised of former college players.
Goodrich laughed as he recollected turning to page five of the Herald Examiner’s sports section every other day and seeing Hazzard’s name in headlines.
“Here is this freshman and he’s competing with and against much more experienced players and Walt, by far, is superior!” Goodrich gushed, still in awe to this day. “Every night he went for 30-to-40. His leaping leaner was the first floater in the paint I remember seeing.”
Goodrich couldn’t think of another guard who ever came to the West Coast with such skills and flair.
“Walt had a tremendous impact on UCLA from the moment he arrived. He set a standard of excellence for me and everyone who followed. I know we’ve seen a lot of pure passers in college — Magic, Rodgers, Cousy, Pistol Pete, Ernie DiGregorio — but he takes a back seat to no one. Walt had great vision, a flamboyant imagination and a mature understanding of the game.
“I really enjoyed playing with him. Coach Wooden told me what he expected the first day of practice. He told me to go without the ball, work off screens and when Walt got me the ball, do something with it. We perfectly complemented each other.”
Despite going for an unremarkable 13 points in the clinching, 98-83, victory over Duke, Hazzard was voted the Final Four’s most outstanding player. His partner in conquest, a future no-brainer Hall of Fame inductee, exhaled for 27.
Goodrich halted the hint of negativity before it escaped my mouth. Hazzard’s timeless teammate had his back.
“Walt got his fourth foul midway through the second half and had to come out. That’s the way it goes sometimes. He was our team leader from day one. Obviously, coach was in charge, but Walt ran the show.”
Hazzard’s heart condition had hospitalized him since April. Four days after he died at 69, family and friends gathered at Rose Hills Cemetery in Whittier, Calif., for a private service. The traditional Islamic ceremony took place at the gravesite. There was nothing said, no homage, no music, just silent prayers. Then the casket was buried and more silent prayers followed.
In Philadelphia, Sonny Hill gave two full hours of Brotherly Love to Hazzard on his Sunday radio show. Wali Jones had the mike to himself the first 30 minutes. Then it was Hal Lear’s turn for reflection and reverence. Next was Ray “Chink’ Scott, who had tried to steer Walt to his West Philly HS. Fittingly, Andre McCarter finished strong.