My Buddy, M.L. Carr

In ninth grade, my twin brother Tom and I managed to acquire what seemed to be the most sought-after job the city of Detroit had to offer. All of the boys at Covington Junior High were uncontrollably jealous of the Doctoroff twins--the new Detroit Piston Ballboys.

Rejoicing in my own private nirvana, I eagerly set off each game day for Cobo Hall, determined to help make 1978-79 the Detroit Piston's first championship season.

Picking up jock straps, rebounding basketballs during pre-game warm-ups, pouring Gatorade into Dixie Cups and folding socks were only a few of the integral contributions to the team.

My buddies: Bob Lanier, Kevin Porter, Ralph Simpson, Eric Money, John Shumate, Chris Ford, Ben Poquette and M.L. Carr. Once childhood heroes, these were the guys I worked with. In December, when the Detroit Piston Basketball Corporation Christmas cards arrived, there I was--along with the players, coaches, secretaries and janitors wishing the Motor City fans a happy Noel.

There were more perfect moments than anyone could have hoped for: playing Mattel Electronic Football with Ben Poquette; having big Bob Lanier call me a "dumb white boy" after I ran over his size-22 foot with a vacuum cleaner. And then giving me a big smile.

Amid all this unbridled joy one Piston rose above all my other idols. M.L. Carr, Detroit's smooth small forward, was the kind of player who could burn an opposing team all night and then walk off the court joking with his foes.

With us, he showed respect when he didn't really have to and treated us like people, not servants. Before games M.L. would take on the twins in frantic games of two-on-one--frantic for us anyway. We scrambled all around his 6-ft. 6-in. body, trying to steal the ball, or at least touch it, as he held it far above out heads and laughed.

***

Four years later, former Piston Head Coach Herb Brown is teaching basketball to high school girls somewhere in Arizona. Ben Poquette is a scrub with Utah, and Bob Lanier is closing out his playing days in Milwaukee.

But here in Boston, M.L. Carr, is playing every game as an invaluable sixth man for the World Champion Boston Celtics, and he has earned the reputation in Bean-town that he enjoyed in Detroit. His energy and good humor on and off the court have prompted the Boston press to dub him the Celtic's spark plug.

Four years later, and I don't play basketball as much as I used to. Despite our separation, M.L. seemed just as happy as ever to get together for a talk about the game and his career.

Playing for the Celtics "is a dream," he says. "When I was a kid. I used to dream about playing on the team that had Russell and Chamberlain. When I got the opportunity through free agency, I left Detroit to come here."

M.L. adds that he feels "fortunate to be playing for the Celtics; on some teams everyone's a star, [but] the only star here is him" (pointing cross court to Boston Celtic patriarch Red Auerbach). The general manager and former coach launches into a midday dance along the sidelines of the Boston Garden when M.L. gestures.

"But why does everyone love you, M.L.?"

"Well, I'd like to think that the respect I receive is not because of basketball," he says. "The thing I try to do is use a philosophy which I've developed over the years: Give respect, and you will receive it. Everyone desires respect, and I have fun at what I do. Hey, it's not hard to say 'Hi' to a kid at a mall."

M.L. Carr describes Celtic Pride as "being able to rise to any occasion and give 100 percent. You won't be victorious every time, but you should know that you've given it your all and that everyone around you is giving the same."

Like all basketball fans. Auerbach only lauds M.L.: "I've probably said it 1000 times; M.L.'s got great chemistry. He hustles. He gives everything. He's an asset to the club. He's a typical Celtic and a great person."

M.L., you deserve everything that's come your way.