When I moved to Boston after graduating law school in 1979, I knew very little about basketball. For me, at the time, the only sport worth watching was baseball, and I quickly became a fan of the Boston Red Sox. It wasn't long, however, before I started to take notice of the Bird-era Celtics teams. My first real exposure to the Celtics came in June of 1981. I worked near City Hall Plaza, and decided to wander out to see the Celtics Championship celebration on the steps of City Hall. The Plaza was packed with fans going wild as the Celtics players arrived at City Hall. One of the fans held a placard commenting on the dietary habits of Moses Malone, who had made disparaging remarks about the Celtics at the beginning of the Finals. Larry Bird, seeing the sign, voiced agreement with the comments, the crowd cheered, and I had a new sports hero. (I was still young enough to consider sports stars heroes in 1981).
The next season I had the opportunity to buy into a share of season tickets with some of the lawyers I worked with. I decided to do it, and haven't looked back since. (Despite some pretty awful Celtics teams after the Bird era, I now have my own half-season tickets and am not ready to let go yet.) During the old Boston Garden era, our seats were in the upper rows of the balcony, about as far away from the action as you could get. But the team was so exciting in those years that it almost didn't matter where your seats were. My wife and I went to several games each year, and had the good fortune of being there for Game 7 of the 1984 Finals. (The game was played on our second wedding anniversary; my wife was, and still is, a very good sport. I took her to dinner in the North End before the game, and we had a table near Bill Walton, who was not yet a member of the Celtics, but who must have been thinking about it at the time.) We also were at the game later in the decade, when Bird stole the inbound pass from Isiah Thomas in the final five seconds of the game, and handed it off to Dennis Johnson, who scored the winning basket. I thought, and I supposed everyone around me thought, that the game was over when Detroit had possession and the lead with five seconds left in the game. I guess no one bothered to tell Bird or DJ. It was the most amazing play I've ever seen in decades of watching live NBA and MBL games. I was even more amazed when Bird explained afterwards that once he stole the ball, he started counting down from five and dished to DJ when he got to three. Talk about presence of mind.
What I found most interesting in those years was watching the team turn on the gas at will when needed to get ahead of their opponents. And Bird was always amazing. He always gave 100%, never let down, and pushed himself and his team past the point of exhaustion whenever necessary. He was positively Churchillian. (Never give up, never surrender!)
Watching the Bird-era Celtics was inspiring for a young litigator. I worked a lot of late nights and weekends in those days, and if I got tired or wanted to quit for the day, I'd think about how a champion does not let up, but is able to summon his last ounce of energy to make that final play or, in my case, to read just one more decision or document that would give me the extra edge to win in court the next day. This sounds corny, but Bird really did inspire me to push myself in my own professional pursuits.
And now I'm finding inspiration in basketball again, this time in the pages of Bill Simmons' "The Book of Basketball." In the first chapter of the book, he talks about what makes a winning team. He writes:
Can't this lesson of success in basketball apply to any organization? Doesn't the success of any enterprise, whether it's a for-profit business or a nonprofit institution, depend at least in part on the same team ethic and selflessness that characterizes a championship basketball team? Aren't these rhetorical questions? They are, because the answer is obvious. And this lesson taken from the basketball court applies to any law firm worth its salt. The more the individual lawyers within a firm learn to like each other and subdue their own, personal, selfish ambitions for the good of the organization and its members, the more that organization will succeed, to the benefit of all of its constituencies (clients, partners, associates, and staff). Subordination of individual agendas for the greater good is the hallmark of champions. It's a slam dunk.
And, as long as I can draw life lessons from basketball, I suppose I can continue to justify the outrageous cost of the season tickets. Which I mention in case my wife is reading.
The next season I had the opportunity to buy into a share of season tickets with some of the lawyers I worked with. I decided to do it, and haven't looked back since. (Despite some pretty awful Celtics teams after the Bird era, I now have my own half-season tickets and am not ready to let go yet.) During the old Boston Garden era, our seats were in the upper rows of the balcony, about as far away from the action as you could get. But the team was so exciting in those years that it almost didn't matter where your seats were. My wife and I went to several games each year, and had the good fortune of being there for Game 7 of the 1984 Finals. (The game was played on our second wedding anniversary; my wife was, and still is, a very good sport. I took her to dinner in the North End before the game, and we had a table near Bill Walton, who was not yet a member of the Celtics, but who must have been thinking about it at the time.) We also were at the game later in the decade, when Bird stole the inbound pass from Isiah Thomas in the final five seconds of the game, and handed it off to Dennis Johnson, who scored the winning basket. I thought, and I supposed everyone around me thought, that the game was over when Detroit had possession and the lead with five seconds left in the game. I guess no one bothered to tell Bird or DJ. It was the most amazing play I've ever seen in decades of watching live NBA and MBL games. I was even more amazed when Bird explained afterwards that once he stole the ball, he started counting down from five and dished to DJ when he got to three. Talk about presence of mind.
What I found most interesting in those years was watching the team turn on the gas at will when needed to get ahead of their opponents. And Bird was always amazing. He always gave 100%, never let down, and pushed himself and his team past the point of exhaustion whenever necessary. He was positively Churchillian. (Never give up, never surrender!)
Watching the Bird-era Celtics was inspiring for a young litigator. I worked a lot of late nights and weekends in those days, and if I got tired or wanted to quit for the day, I'd think about how a champion does not let up, but is able to summon his last ounce of energy to make that final play or, in my case, to read just one more decision or document that would give me the extra edge to win in court the next day. This sounds corny, but Bird really did inspire me to push myself in my own professional pursuits.
And now I'm finding inspiration in basketball again, this time in the pages of Bill Simmons' "The Book of Basketball." In the first chapter of the book, he talks about what makes a winning team. He writes:
Those teams were loaded with talented players, yes, but that's not the only reason they won. They won because they liked each other, knew their roles, ignored statistics, and valued winning over everything else. They won because their best players sacrificed to make everyone else happy. They won as long as everyone remained on the same page. By that same token, they lost if any of those three factors weren't in place."The Book of Basketball," p. 40.
Can't this lesson of success in basketball apply to any organization? Doesn't the success of any enterprise, whether it's a for-profit business or a nonprofit institution, depend at least in part on the same team ethic and selflessness that characterizes a championship basketball team? Aren't these rhetorical questions? They are, because the answer is obvious. And this lesson taken from the basketball court applies to any law firm worth its salt. The more the individual lawyers within a firm learn to like each other and subdue their own, personal, selfish ambitions for the good of the organization and its members, the more that organization will succeed, to the benefit of all of its constituencies (clients, partners, associates, and staff). Subordination of individual agendas for the greater good is the hallmark of champions. It's a slam dunk.
And, as long as I can draw life lessons from basketball, I suppose I can continue to justify the outrageous cost of the season tickets. Which I mention in case my wife is reading.
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