Attendance was sparse. The audiences that did show up, accustomed to wrestling and boxing and hockey, expected some blood with their sport, and the early players, many of them brawling World War II veterans, were happy to comply. In one 1949 game between New York and the new Baltimore franchise, one hundred personal fouls were called and three bloody fistfights broke out on the court. In 1949, the National Basketball League collapsed altogether, and its five surviving franchises linked up with the BAA, which then changed its name to the National Basketball Association.

That same summer, Auerbach asked Mike Uline for a three-year contract. Some of the players, unhappy with Auerbach’s hard style, had tried to persuade Uline to get rid of him, and Auerbach felt a three-year contract would establish his absolute authority. But Uline, afraid that his money-losing team might not last three years (and indeed it didn’t), refused, and Auerbach quit. After a brief hiatus as an assistant coach at Duke University, Auerbach was hired by Ben Kerner, the owner of the Tri-Cities Blackhawks. “I’ll give these customers a real show if you’ll pay the fines,” Auerbach told Kerner upon his arrival.

He also completely rebuilt the Blackhawks, making more than two dozen trades. By the end of the season only three of the original players remained, but the Blackhawks made it into the playoffs. Kerner had publicly promised Auerbach complete autonomy at the beginning of the season, but then in the spring, over Auerbach’s objections, he traded John Mahnken, who’d played for Auerbach on the Caps, for Boston forward Gene Englund. Auerbach felt there was no point in being a coach unless he had total independence. Without it, he thought, his job would consist primarily of toadying up to the owner. There were coaches like that in the league, coaches who spent most of their time trying to placate the owner and anticipating his desires, but Auerbach had no interest in becoming one of them. When the season was over—the Blackhawks lost to the Anderson Packers in the playoffs—Auerbach told Kerner he was quitting. He had no immediate prospects. He had failed to get along with the two professional owners he’d worked for. But he had established a reputation as a coach who could win, and he was thinking he might return to college basketball, where he would at least enjoy the independence that had eluded him in the pros. And then, for the third time in his life, a critical opportunity presented itself.

 

THE BOSTON CELTICS had not made it into the playoffs that year. They had in fact finished in last place in the Eastern Division, and their coach, Alvin “Doggie” Julian, felt discouraged. Julian had a reputation as one of the best basketball coaches in the country, but that reputation had been made on the college level, when he won an NCAA title during his tenure at Holy Cross College. He had never been able to adjust his tactics to the aggressive pivot style of play that predominated in pro ball, and the NBA’s grueling travel left him exhausted. Though he had one more year left on his contract with the Celtics, Dartmouth College had approached him about becoming its basketball coach, and he was inclined to accept. At the Celtics’ breakup dinner on March 17, 1950, he turned to Walter Brown, the team’s owner. “Walter, I think you better get yourself a new coach,” he said. “Somebody else could probably do a better job, because I know I have made quite a few mistakes this year.”

“Doggie, I’ll repeat here what I’ve said so many times before,” replied Brown, who was unaware that Julian was in discussions with Dartmouth. “As long as I have anything to do with the Celtics, you’re going to be the coach.”

But after thinking it through over the weekend, Julian told Brown the following Monday that he was quitting. The news dismayed and irritated Brown, who felt that a man he trusted had abandoned him, and now, with the college draft only a month away, he had to scramble around to find yet another coach. Brown’s real passion being hockey, he didn’t follow basketball closely, and had little idea of who might replace Julian. But he had the natural salesman’s gift for seeing the promotional potential even in adversity. After Julian’s departure was announced, he told Howie McHugh, the public relations man for the Celtics, to call some of the local sports reporters and invite them down to the Garden for a meeting.