Life on the Run by Bill Bradley Page B

accordingly. To rookies and substitutes he says, “If we miss a practice, it’s up to you to find a place to work out on your own. Just make sure when and if you’re ever called upon to play you’re in shape.” To veterans he says, “No one drinks in the main bar of the hotel where the team stays. That one belongs to me.” And, “If you manage to get lucky, don’t fall asleep on top of the covers. I don’t want any colds.” To all players he says, “If we win you will have a lot of free time; if we lose you belong to me.” In his first year as coach we lost often, and during one twenty-five day stretch we played eight games and had twenty-one two-hour practices. Everyone learned quickly that life was more pleasant if we won.
    Other men Holzman’s age who become coaches in the NBA have difficulty communicating with black players. They overdo their understanding of blackness so that it comes off artificial. Or, they can’t understand black pride or individuality, and sometimes even slip into a careless use of a code word like “boy.” Holzman never makes racial mistakes. Everyone is subject to the same treatment. It seems natural that he senses the right course, for he grew up a Jew in a non-Jewish world, where discrimination was a very real part of his own life. He understands the dividing line between paranoia and reality. He also had coached black and Latin players in Puerto Rico for seven summers prior to becoming the Knicks’ head coach. It was there that he learned the flexibility in approach that allows for different life-styles and different values on his teams. It was there that he learned to discard his own non-basketball perceptions when they clashed with a player’s in an area unrelated to the game. It was there that he learned to enjoy a way of life different from his own in New York.
    Holzman knows that whatever happens on the team, the next day brings another game. Whenever crowds become vicious he says that it is nothing compared to Ponce, Puerto Rico, where frequently after games the visiting teams had to wait at center court for an hour, surrounded by police, until the fans calmed down. I have the feeling that the Ponce experience has given him confidence in handling any player in any situation.
    Some coaches who try the professional ranks can’t take the road schedule physically or emotionally; being away from home for 100 nights a year is too disorienting. But for almost ten years Holzman was the New York Knicks’ chief scout, traveling constantly throughout the United States from November to April. He set his own schedule, booked his own plane and motel reservations, made his own appointments, and picked his own game to watch. He became accustomed to the vagaries of road life. The strain of the away-from-home schedule as a professional coach is for him merely a continuation of well-formed travel habits.
    Many coaches in the NBA do not understand the press and public relations job that a coach has to master. Holzman had seen six Knick coaches fired while he was the chief scout. At a certain point, the press had always contributed to each coach’s downfall and each victim had assisted his own demise with careless remarks in unguarded moments. Holzman never says anything bad about anybody to the press; if possible, he says nothing. That way, players do not read the paper to find out what the coach thinks of their game, and no sportswriter can extract from him the name of a player on whom to pin defeat. Left with little material from the source, the writer develops his own interpretations. Holzman’s “cooperation” exasperates some reporters, but it works beautifully. He has mastered probably the most tricky aspect of being a New York coach. He will probably never be a celebrity. But then, he only wants to be the Knick coach.
    In technical terms, Holzman avoids the average professional coach’s mistaken emphasis on offense. Many coaches assume that a professional team can run more