Is this the greatest personal honor in his life?….
The tentativeness of the question elicited the familiar whooping roar of laughter occasionally emitted by this publicly serious man.
“When he was about 77, my father and I were talking,” Russell answered. “And he said: ”˜You know, you’re all grown up now, and I want to tell you something. You know, I am very proud of the way you turned out as my son, and I’m proud of you as a father.’
“My father is my hero, O.K., and I cannot perceive of anything topping that,” Russell continued, his voice becoming husky….
No American professional athlete to date better embodies the concept of “hero” in American history than Bill Russell.
Amen, Henry. I’ve been a fan since I first began watching the Celtics in the 50s. Bill towers above so many of today’s crowd of athletes.
Bill Russell is one of the few things that might make me watch a basketball game. He’s also an enigma. If you told him you really liked watching him, he’d likely shake his head and say you didn’t get it; I was part of a *team*. Okay, I don’t get it. He’s really exceptional. He’ll have to live with it.
[i]You know, I am very proud of the way you turned out as my son, and I’m proud of you as a father.’ [/i]
I have a bit of a problem with this. It’s a little too easy to be proud of your son when he’s Bill Russell. The parent’s opinion doesn’t always count for that much. Too many parents are disappointed in their children simply because their children did something much different from what they wanted.
Let’s not put parental opinion on too high a pedestal.
#4, I think the point there was that the father said he was proud of how Bill turned out as his son and as a father, not how Bill turned out as one of the greatest basketball players of all times. I think parental accolades are the greatest things we can get – because afterall, parents know us better than anyone else, and they know our abilities and limitations, and if they say they are proud of us, who better to know if that pride is deserved.
Speaking of fathers and sons, I’ll never forget my Dad taking my brother and me to the Boston Garden in ’66 to see the Celtics play the 76ers. A classic Russell vs. Chamberlain match-up. The Garden was sold out that night, but my Dad negotiated three tickets from a a fellow who seemed to exist in some permenant shadow of the Garden. The Celts won.