A friend of mine is convinced a minimum of seven members of the Hall of Fame committee (nominees require 18 of 24 votes to gain induction) has Jamaal Wilkes confused with John Wilkes Booth.
“Who are these voters?” column contributor Bill Feinberg demands to know. “I’m sure that they are somewhat deserving on some level, but shouldn’t you take care of the truly deserving before voting in the women and children?”
My towering regard for Wilkes is not exactly clandestine. During my Hall of Fame enshrinement speech two years ago, in a rare coherent moment, I admonished the association for slighting Wilkes, Dennis Johnson, Chet Walker, Artis Gilmore, Mel Daniels, Tex Winter, Roger Brown and others.
Last summer D.J. was posthumously honored at Springfield. This August Winter and Gilmore will receive their long overdue Hall recognition. The newly-formed ABA Committee righted the wrong re The A Train. Additional worthy red, white and blue alumni (Mel, Roger, Slick Leonard, Willie Wise, James Jones, Louie Dampier, Ron Boone, Zelmo Beaty, Joe Caldwell, Mack Calvin and Bobby Jones) will follow in ensuing years, as the rule stipulates, one at a time.
Meanwhile, the newly-formed Veteran’s Committee flagrantly omitted Walker (and Richie Guerin) by choosing Satch Sanders, while the standard committee incomprehensibly stiffed Wilkes. Again!
How can this keep happening when Wilkes has so many illustrious, zealous and blunt Hall of Fame advocates? Jerry West, Bill Sharman, Pat Riley, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Rick Barry, Earl Monroe, Bill Walton, Bob Ryan and Jackie McMullen are all very much in favor of induction.
At the same time, it certainly doesn’t help Wilkes’ cause that the Lakers have not retired his number. Their unacceptable explanation is they don’t retire numbers of players not in the Hall.
In other words, the Lakers believe they’re bigger than the Hall of Fame.
If that’s not infuriating and frustrating enough, some Hall voters, I’m told, diminish Wilkes’ donation to five championships — two at UCLA, two as a Laker and with the Warriors, the lone one in franchise history when he was rookie of the year, I might add — because he was the second or third most productive player on those teams.
As if it’s a crime to have less talent than Walton, Barry, Kareem and Magic. As if great teams don’t need regal role players to support superstars. Correct me if I’m off base, but don’t Tommy Heinsohn, Sam Jones, Joe Dumars, Robert Parish, D.J. and many other Hall of Famers belong in that same category?
Wilkes was a pivotal part at both ends of those championships. In 11 seasons (I don’t count his 195 minutes in 13 games as a Clipper in 1985-86. Even wise men don’t know when to retire), he averaged nearly 18 points and 6.3 rebounds. Statistics don’t tell the whole story, because Wilkes sacrificed so much of his game to accommodate and complement his teams’ leading men . . . and did whatever the coach needed, like play power forward when L.A. strangely acquired Adrian Dantley.
Wilkes was a terrific defender, sweet passer, great (unorthodox) jump shooter and never was afraid to take it to the basket. He knew how to play the game, how to space the floor and was as deadly living off Magic as James Worthy — running to his spots, of which he was poison-perfect from eight of them.
The Department of Injustice is on this case . . . and Walker’s.
“I will restate the obvious,” column contributor Len Gilman accentuates. “If Chet never played in the NBA, he should be in for Hall strictly off his college career at Bradley. I won’t bore you with the particulars, but I assume that’s why Bill Bradley got in. Same goes for Walton.”
Clearly, Walker must’ve really ticked off a lot of people with no long-term memory loss. He was the second best player to Wilt (OK, maybe Hal Green was No. 2, by a fraction) on the 1967 champion 76ers, arguably the NBA’s all-time God Squad, and was the go-to guy alongside Bob Love on Dick Motta’s unbending Bulls for six seasons.
He averaged (Hall inductee) Chris Mullin numbers (18.2 points) over 13 seasons, except he also went to the rack for 7.1 per rebounds — almost identical to his recordings in 105 playoff games.
What’s more, Walker didn’t give up as many points as he scored, as Mullin (17,911) did. I’m just playing; I know Chris reads this and I couldn’t resist making him twitch.
I used to love how Sanders would arrive at Celtics games in his jaunty cap, a bowler, and a suit with his trademark bow tie. That look alone is grounds for inclusion into the Hall of Fame. But not at the expense of Walker or Guerin (for now, I’ll leave the number at two) the first year the veteran’s committee convenes.
It doesn’t get any classier than Sanders. He is a gentleman and stand-up defender who won eight rings as Bill Russell’s sidekick opposite Heinsohn and fifth spoke on the wheel, if you don’t count nuclear subs Frank Ramsey, Sam and KC Jones. He also was great at blocking out, allowing Russell to rebound.
Fine. I say Sanders belongs in the Hall of te Very Good. Never did I estimate him to be Hall-of-Fame material. In fact, until I reread this column before sending it in, I didn’t realize he averaged 9.6 points and 6.3 boards over 13 regular seasons.
Fact is, I grimaced whenever he touched the ball on anything other than the fast break.
Dennis Rodman, on the other hand, should have gotten into the Hall of Fame the second year he was eligible. That’s what he gets for acting like a freak (forgive me for terming it an act) off the court and losing his mind so often between the lines.
All craziness considered, the feral forward still managed to get plenty of support from those that mattered a lot sooner than many people expected . . . and rightfully so.
When the radioactive dust settled, Rodman’s five championships, seven rebounding titles (second all-time to Wilt’s 11) and demonic defense on the same consecrated scale as Russell and Caldwell were too overwhelming to let personality oddities disfigure judgment.
peter.vecsey@nypost.com