How to Make Contact

Basketball, as everybody knows, is a noncontact sport. At least that's what Dr. James Naismith had in mind when he invented the game in 1891. An "enjoyable form of recreation for mature individuals," he called it, and to keep it cool he specified that "no shouldering, holding, pushing, tripping, or striking, in any way, the person of an opponent shall be allowed." But Naismith figured without the pros--and particularly without the Boston Celtics, who won the National Basketball Association championship last week by trouncing the San Francisco Warriors in the roughest five games of basketball that memory could recall.

Target for Tonight. The Celtics' No. 1 objective was to stifle Warrior Center Wilt ("The Stilt") Chamberlain, the 7 ft. 2 in. giant who once scored 100 points in a single game. They had just the man for the job: brooding, bearded Bill Russell, 30, pro basketball's dark genius of defense. Time and again Chamberlain went up to shoot, and there was Russell to block the shot.

Time and again Chamberlain lunged for a rebound, only to bounce into a shoulder or knee. Other Celtics tugged at Wilt's jersey, stepped on his toes, impaled him on their elbows. In the first game Chamberlain scored only 22 points, and Boston won 108-96. In the second game frustration finally got the better of Wilt: without warning, he hauled off and floored Celtic Clyde Lovellette with a whistling right to the jaw. Boston still won 124-101.

"We've got to beat the Celtics at their own game," said San Francisco Coach Alex Hannum. The Warriors retaliated enthusiastically, won the third game 115-91. The referees were blowing their whistles like riot cops. But big-time basketball is both hard-nosed and tricky, and the refs did not see half of it. The secret, explained Boston's Jim Loscutoff, is sneaky hands: "The idea is to stop your opponent from gaining momentum. You can't actually grab him; you feel and let go, feel and let go, and when he starts to cut, you feel him a little longer." By the time the fourth game ended (the Celtics won it 98-95), both squads were mostly walking wounded. San Francisco's Gary Phillips was out for the duration with a back injury, Guy Rodgers was playing with a dislocated thumb, and Al Attles was limping around with a pulled thigh muscle. Boston's John Havlicek had a gash on one knee, and Tommy Hein-sohn sported a magnificent shiner.

Dressed to Kill. Back in Boston for the fifth game. Bill Russell walked into the locker room dressed all in black. "It's my funeral suit," he explained. "I wore it to the Cincinnati Royals' funeral in the semifinals two weeks ago. Tonight I'm wearing it for the Warriors." For most of the game. Chamberlain might as well not have been on the court. Blood was dripping from a cut on his left hand, and at half time he had scored only twelve points. Midway in the third quarter. Boston had an eleven-point bulge. Then Chamberlain began to hit--a jump shot, a hook, another jump. Point by point, the Warriors whittled away the Celtics' lead.

With 19 seconds left in the game. Boston led by only two points 101-99. Trying for the clincher. Forward Heinsohn fired and missed. Everybody converged on the basket, clawing for the rebound. Chamberlain reached up, but Russell got there first. "Flailing like a wheat thresher, he bounded high into the air, plucked the loose ball off the backboard and, all in the same motion, rammed it through the basket--"all the way up to my elbows." he said later.

Fists clenched. Bill Russell flung up his arms in a gesture of victory. The Celtics trooped off the court, richer by $3,618 per man and world champions for the sixth year in a row. It was a record unmatched in U.S. professional sports, topping the New York Yankees' five straight (1949-53) World Series successes and the Montreal Canadiens' five straight (1956-60) Stanley Cup victories.

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