The first item of business for Wattrick was to relieve the head coach of his duties. Check. His second move was even bolder than firing Wolf.

DeBusschere and teammate Rod Thorn—known best to modern NBA fans as an executive with the Bulls, Nets, and Sixers—regularly roomed together on road trips, and they were in their hotel room that day.

“Dave got a call from Don Wattrick and asked me, ‘Would I mind leaving the room,’” recalls Thorn. “Fifteen, 20 minutes later, he called me back in and said he had just been named a coach of the Pistons.” DeBusschere was 24 years old at the time. 

DeBusschere’s hiring as coach was strange because there was a far more qualified candidate within the organization. Earl Lloyd had been in the running to replace Wolf. Lloyd had previously been a Pistons assistant coach under McGuire, and was still employed as a team scout. He had the experience of playing in the NBA for a decade, as the first Black player to appear in a game in the league’s history. In his capacity as a scout, he had been influential in the Pistons drafting Howell.

Joe Caldwell, who was Detroit’s lone rookie that 1964-65 season, had become close to Lloyd. “I was kinda like under Earl Lloyd, more or less, in training camp,” says Caldwell. “And I thought he was a man for the job.”

Wattrick also believed Lloyd was the man for the job. But one detail got in the way.

“The quote that he had for Earl Lloyd was that ‘If you were a white guy, you’d solve all my problems,’” says former Pistons forward Ray Scott. Wattrick simply did not have the stomach to be the GM who hired the NBA’s first Black head coach.

He had no hesitation, however, about becoming the GM who hired the youngest head coach in the history of U.S. professional sports when he awarded the job to DeBusschere.

“I think almost all the players were shocked, because you just never heard of a 24-year-old coach,” Thorn says. “I think even he was surprised by it, when he was offered the job.”

DeBusschere had experience in balancing two jobs. Up to that point in his career, he’d spent his offseasons pitching for the Chicago White Sox and their minor league squads.

But he had no coaching experience, and was still learning the ropes as an NBA player. Taking on the role of player-coach was a whole new challenge.

“[Wattrick and Zollner] thought that he had the ability or the acuity to operate in both positions. … But it was a disaster,” says Scott. “I thought that Dave should have been working on his game at 24 years old, not being concerned about the game of others, and substitutions, and rotations, and scheduling, and all of those things.”

According to Thorn, DeBusschere’s coaching limited the team’s best player … DeBusschere.

“I think it took away from him as a player,” says Thorn. “To me, he didn’t play himself at the minutes he should have played. During those days, top-flight players played close to 40 minutes a game.” DeBusschere averaged 35 minutes per game in his first season as player-coach.

The Pistons improved only marginally, as they went just 29-40 to close the season following DeBusschere’s promotion. Their overall record of 31-49 left them short of making the playoffs. Despite the poor fit and ho-hum results, the Pistons decided to keep DeBusschere in the job for the 1965-66 season.

“As long as Wattrick was there, Dave was gonna be there,” Scott says. “Because this was Wattrick’s idea.”

DeBusschere gave up playing baseball after his relationship with the White Sox soured. This allowed him to be present at the beginning of training camp, which helped him to get in full basketball shape as the campaign tipped off. That season, he became an All-Star for the first time, but the Pistons were even worse, with a record of 22-58.

The Pistons picked some help in the draft in the form of Dave Bing, the All-American guard out of Syracuse University. Bing would go on to become a Hall of Fame player, but his career did not start smoothly. Bing was not given a spot in the starting five, and he couldn’t understand why.

“He was not a good communicator,” Bing says of his early days playing for DeBusschere. 

“When the season opened and Dave called the starting team and he didn’t call me, I was hurt. And then I had much more to prove. I think I was the outstanding player on the team, in the exhibition season, and there was not a thought in my mind that I wasn’t gonna be the starting guard.”

Bing suspects that DeBusschere’s friendships with his teammates interfered with his decision-making and judgment.

“He was very close to Tommy Van Arsdale,” says Bing. “Because they were friends, I think it was tough for him to make a decision to say, ‘Tom, you’re not gonna start anymore. Dave’s gonna start.’”

Meanwhile, the Pistons were headed toward another losing campaign. With eight games left in the season, DeBusschere resigned as coach, on March 7, 1967. 

“I think he got sick of it,” says Scott, who had been traded to the Washington Bullets earlier in the season. “He could see that it wasn’t going anywhere for him.”

Without the burden of coaching, DeBusschere could now put a lot more focus on his original job.

“Dave became a much better player when he no longer had to coach. And then when he was traded to New York, he really blossomed,” says Bing.

DeBusschere was traded to New York in December 1968, after one more full season in Detroit. While there, he evolved into one of the league’s premier defenders. He earned a spot on the All-Defensive first team in each season he played for the Knicks, as he helped ignite the golden era of the franchise.

His unexpected move into management came way too early in his career, and stalled his progress as a player. But after righting the ship and winning a couple of rings in the process, DeBusschere eventually made his way back into a leadership position—this time after his playing career. In the mid-’70s, he acted as the final commissioner of the ABA before the league merged with the NBA. Then in the early ’80s, he returned to the Knicks and served as their executive vice president and director of basketball operations—titles he held until 1986. He was inducted into the Naismith Memorial Hall of Fame, as a player, in 1983.

Richie Guerin: The Drill Sergeant 

Many of DeBusschere’s struggles with the dual role could be chalked up to his youth and inexperience, but not every player found the coaching role to be a poisoned chalice.   

After a standout career at Iona College in the early 1950s, and a two-year stint serving in the Marines, Richie Guerin rose to NBA prominence when he became a star for the New York Knicks. The native New Yorker was a three-time All-NBA guard and a six-time All-Star in the seven full seasons he played for his hometown team. His offensive production peaked during the 1961-62 season, when he averaged 29.5 points and 6.9 assists.

Guerin was known for his signature set shot. It would catch defenders off guard, as the shooting technique was becoming archaic by the 1960s.

“He would take the ball and put it up, like he’s gonna pass it with two hands. And then he’d just flip it,” longtime opponent Jim King says of the set shot. “It would’ve been a 3-pointer. He would shoot it way out and he had great touch on it.”

Despite Guerin’s elite play as an individual, the Knicks made the playoffs only once during his seven full seasons there. In October 1963, two games into his eighth season, he was traded to the St. Louis Hawks—joining the talented cast of Bob Pettit, Cliff Hagan, Zelmo Beaty, Bill Bridges, and Lenny Wilkens. The Hawks beat the Los Angeles Lakers in the first round of the 1963-64 playoffs—Guerin’s first series victory—but lost to the San Francisco Warriors in seven games in the Western Division finals.

Two months into the following season, however, the Hawks were a mere .500 team and morale was becoming stagnant under head coach Harry Gallatin. Forward Mike Farmer was in his third season with the Hawks as the team was beginning to tread water.

“It’s just one of those things where it wasn’t a real good mix,” recalls Farmer. “It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t what you would call everybody jumping into each other’s arms every time there was a good play made. It was just kind of show up and do your work and go home.”

Tension was building between team owner Ben Kerner and Gallatin as the inconsistent play continued.

Jeff Mullins, a Hawks rookie guard at the time, was sitting on the bench one night in December 1964 during a game that ended in a loss. 

“All of a sudden I hear this voice screaming across the court,” recalls Mullins. “Mr. Kerner used to sit right at half court, on the other side of the court. And he’s screaming, ‘Harry! Get Chico [Vaughn] out of there! He stinks!’”

Kerner’s rant continued after the game. This signaled the beginning of the end of Gallatin’s coaching tenure with the Hawks.

“He comes in the locker room screaming at everybody,” Mullins says of Kerner after the game. “He was mad at everybody, calling them fat and lazy and outta shape. And about less than a week later, Harry was fired and Richie was inserted as a player-coach.”

The Hawks eventually steadied the ship after the then-32-year-old Guerin gained the additional job title. They went 28-19 to close the season after the coaching change.

As far as his coaching style went, Guerin sculpted a philosophy centered on toughness.

“Very strong personality and he played very hard,” Mullins says. “He coached the same way. He didn’t mind getting in your face if you were stepping outta line.”

“He wouldn’t back down. He wouldn’t kowtow to anything, but he was not overboard,” Farmer says. “He didn’t go screaming and hollering, and being really vindictive if guys didn’t do what he wanted.”

Unlike DeBusschere, Guerin was experienced enough on the floor to construct a coaching identity with the same traits. But what worked as a player didn’t always fly as a coach. He and his Hawks backcourt mate, and multi-time All-Star, Lenny Wilkens weren’t exactly the best of colleagues.

“Our relationship wasn’t that good,” says Wilkens, who would later become a player-coach himself. “We just didn’t click. That’s all.”

Mullins also has lukewarm memories of his experience with Guerin, as he had to learn to share a backcourt with his own coach.

“He was a set shooter and driver, go-to-the-basket kind of guy. I was more of a jump shooter, and he wasn’t crazy about my jump shots,” Mullins says of he and Guerin’s clashing styles. “Although, I will say this: Playing for Richie for a year and a half probably helped my game because I’d learned to go to the basket a little bit better than I had before. I was mostly a jump shooter until then. It was probably a good experience even though I didn’t like it all the time.”

The Hawks finished with a 45-35 overall record, but were bounced by the Baltimore Bullets in the opening round of the 1964-65 playoffs. Guerin was retained as head coach. 

The following season, with Pettit now retired, Guerin reconfigured the team around Beaty, Wilkens, and new arrival Joe Caldwell. The team had a losing record, but still managed to make it to the 1965-66 Western Division finals. Guerin’s authority strengthened as the age gap between him and his players increased.

“Richie was my first NBA real coach,” says Caldwell, who funnily enough had only played for DeBusschere in Detroit before becoming a Hawk. “[He] taught us about what we had to do about eating, sleeping, taking care of our bodies. … I thought he was a hell of a man.”

The young Hawks became familiar and comfortable with Guerin’s tenacious brand of coaching.

“He’d swear if [an offensive opponent] was going down the lane,” Dick Snyder says of Richie’s coaching persona. “He’d say ‘If you don’t knock him down the next time, I’m gonna fine you!’”

“You’re late, you get fined … You miss a plane, you pay your own fare,” says Caldwell, recalling Guerin’s rules. “[It made] you responsible. You become responsible men, as well as basketball players.”

The Hawks advanced to and lost in the Western Division finals for the second straight season in 1966-67. About three weeks later, the expansion draft was held for the newly founded Seattle SuperSonics and San Diego Rockets. To avoid the draft, Guerin announced his retirement as a player—the same way he had before the previous expansion draft, for the Chicago Bulls, before unretiring—planning to un-retire and suit back up for the Hawks again. But the Sonics had caught on and decided to call his bluff. They selected Guerin to make sure he stayed retired, in an effort to neutralize their Western Division competitor.

“Seattle drafted him, and all of us were shocked,” Snyder recalls. “He figured, ‘Hey, my age and everything. They’re not gonna take me. I’ve been a coach. They’re not gonna wanna have me up there.’”

Guerin remained retired as a player and continued to coach the Hawks, sporting a suit and tie on the sideline. The 1967-68 team would go on to win 56 games, a franchise record, while securing the top seed in the Western Division. This earned Guerin Coach of the Year honors. However, they were eliminated in the opening round, four games to two, in an upset against the Warriors.

Following the season, the Hawks relocated from St. Louis to Atlanta after Ben Kerner sold the franchise.

A month into the 1968-69 season, the Hawks made another notable deal with the Sonics. They shipped out Dick Smith in exchange for Guerin’s player contract, making him eligible to suit up for the team once again and regain the title of player-coach. 

Guerin’s role as a player was greatly reduced in his return to the floor. He appeared in only 27 games while averaging just 17.5 minutes a night in the regular season, down from 80 games and 28.4 minutes during his previous season on the court. The Hawks returned to the Western Division finals, but once again failed to advance, getting eliminated by the Lakers in five games. Guerin played just three times during the Hawks’ 11-game playoff run, offering minimal production.

In the summer of 1969, the Hawks held their rookie camp, which featured recent draft picks Butch Beard and Grady O’Malley. Both got acquainted with Guerin as they sought to secure a spot on the roster. “[Richie] ran a very tough rookie camp,” recalls O’Malley. “There was no bullshit. People were expected to come in and be ready to play.”

Beard had been selected with the Hawks’ first draft pick (10th overall) and was eager to make a good impression at the rookie camp. He went the extra mile to do so. “I’ll never forget when I went to camp in the summer,” says Beard. “And I’m out there running up and down all the time. He finally came over to me. He said ‘Look, you don’t have to be in every drill.’ He said ‘You’ve made the team. We drafted you. You’re gonna be here.’ So that took some pressure off of me.”

O’Malley, on the other hand, was selected by the Hawks in the 19th round of a 20-round draft, and faced a more uphill battle. Coming off his standout career at Manhattan College, he had a standing scholarship offer at Boston College Law School. He would eventually seek that law degree and went on to have an almost 48-year career serving in the U.S. Attorney’s office. But he decided to try his hand at the NBA before walking down his ultimate path.

Though he made it through rookie camp, O’Malley was not promised a spot on the team. However, Guerin invited him to training camp for another shot at making the roster. “Richie, in terms of the camp, was pretty demanding,” says O’Malley as he reminisces on his second round of auditioning for the Hawks. “He expects you to be playing two hours in the morning, two hours in the afternoon. If you wanted to win a spot, then you had to play as hard as you could play. And I did. I went down there with the kind of mentality that I wasn’t a high draft pick, obviously.”

The mentality was rewarded.

“At the end of the tryouts I went up to him and I said ‘What are my chances?,’ remembers O’Malley. “And he just whacked me on the back with some sort of a rolled-up piece of paper or something like that and just said ‘You made it, kid.’ Greatest feeling in the world, obviously, for me.”

Making the transition to full-time coach, Guerin appeared in just eight games during the 1969-70 regular season, hitting only three shots from the field in 64 total minutes. With the help of future Hall of Famer Walt Bellamy, the Hawks finished with the best record in the West. Guerin was named one of the coaches of the All-Star Game for the second straight year.

In the postseason, the Hawks met up with the Lakers once again in the division finals. In Game 1 in Atlanta, the Hawks lost by four. The Lakers had a 60-32 advantage in free throw attempts—including 39 combined attempts for Jerry West and Elgin Baylor. In remarks to the press afterward, a ticked-off Guerin called out the officials for being one-sided. With his trademarked rough edges showing, he warned that there would be “a lot of blood spilled” on the court in Game 2 and that “certain players may not be around” by the end of said game.

After being fined $1,000 for criticizing the officials and threatening his opponents, Guerin let it be known to the press that he was serious about standing up for his players and teammates. “My players aren’t going to get pushed around again, that’s for sure,” Guerin said at the time.

Despite having an equal number of free throw attempts the next time around, the Hawks went on to lose Game 2 at home—and they lost Walt Hazzard for the rest of the series to injury.

With the guard rotation suddenly diminished, Guerin decided to play. He logged 21 minutes in a one-point loss in Game 3, recording a mere two points and three rebounds. 

“And then we played the fourth game, and Richie is really cooking,” says Beard. “And he didn’t put me in.”

Game 4 served as a Renaissance moment for Richie Guerin the player. He put up a line of 31 points, five rebounds, and three assists while shooting 12-for-17 from the field. It wasn’t nearly enough to stop the Lakers from completing the four-game sweep, as they won by 19 with West and Baylor putting up 39 and 31 points of their own. Guerin played 35 minutes, many of them coming in place of Beard, the team’s backup point guard all season and a player who’d logged 32 minutes in Game 3.

Guerin expressed regret after the game.

“And then he came over to me and he says, ‘That was my mistake,’” Beard says. “Because Walt had gotten hurt. And [Richie] wanted me to have that experience. So he came over and he says ‘I’m sorry. I should have played you. I should not have been greedy and played myself.’”

That was Guerin’s finale as a player: He decided to retire and commit to being a permanent full-time coach. He was a fascinating case of the conflict of interest inherent in playing and coaching and coaching at the same time. At a critical moment, Guerin the coach became subservient to the desires of Guerin the player.  

Guerin holds the record for most games coached as a player-coach with 372, with a record of 199-173. After two more seasons of coaching the Hawks, who featured a young Pete Maravich, Guerin left the sidelines in 1972 for the front office, becoming Atlanta’s general manager. He was inducted into the Hall of Fame as a player in 2013.

Lenny Wilkens: The Early Days of a Future Coaching Legend

While Lenny Wilkens didn’t always see eye to eye with his teammate/coach Guerin, he would go on to follow in his footsteps later in his career. A champion as a coach, and a staple of NBA sidelines for decades, Wilkens spent his first eight seasons as the starting point guard of the St. Louis Hawks, laying the foundation for his Hall of Fame career and showcasing his dazzling scoring and passing ability.

In the 1968 offseason, the Hawks—then in the process of relocating to Atlanta—decided to move on from Wilkens.

“The franchise was sold to Atlanta and [the new owners] invited the team down for a luncheon,” says Wilkens of his final days as a Hawk. “And they didn’t invite me. But I knew that they wanted to get rid of me.”

The Hawks traded Wilkens to the Seattle SuperSonics in exchange for Walt Hazzard. The Sonics were headed into only their second season of existence, and the roster was made up mostly of players who had less than three seasons of experience. The Wilkens acquisition provided them with an injection of veteran leadership.

“He was a breath of fresh air,” says former Sonics forward Tom Meschery. “I had nothing against Walt Hazzard, but Walt was just not the same kind of pass-first, team director. Which is really what Lenny Wilkens is. He is like an orchestra director.”

The Sonics finished the 1968-69 season with a 30-52 record, an improvement of seven wins from their inaugural campaign. In the middle of the offseason in 1969, Al Bianchi resigned as head coach. After weeks and weeks of consideration, Sonics GM Dick Vertlieb had dinner with Wilkens. “And when we had dinner, he talked to me and he wanted me to be the player-coach. And I told him he was crazy,” says Wilkens. “And he said ‘Well, you run the show anyway.’ He thought that I could do it.”

Wilkens was initially skeptical, but felt that accepting the job was the only viable option. “We were so close to training camp that I decided I would do it, because bringing someone else in who didn’t know the players would just set us behind,” says Wilkens. “So I decided I’d try it and see. I knew how to run a practice. I knew what the talent was, who should have the ball, how to get it to them, things like that.”

Wilkens sought an extra incentive for taking on a second job. “Oh, yeah. They had to pay me for being the coach as well,” he says when asked whether he received additional salary. “I made sure of that. I wasn’t gonna do it for nothing.”

Wilkens became just the second Black head coach in the history of the league—joining Bill Russell, who had recently retired from playing following his three-season stint as the Boston Celtics’ player-coach.

Wilkens found his teammates to be receptive to his promotion to head coach, since he’s already earned their trust as a leader on the court. “I was captain of the team and they thought that I knew what I was talking about. They were very responsive.”

Wilkens brought in the head coach of the University of Washington, Marvin Harshman, to observe one of the team’s practices and to offer advice. He also leaned on veteran teammates Meschery and Rod Thorn for assistance.

“In some ways Rod was kind of Lenny’s surrogate on the bench,” remembers Meschery. “I was on the court with Lenny. We would nod at each other or I would give him a look. Or I would whisper something to him occasionally if I thought there was something that I could pass on to him.”

Wilkens had demonstrated an ability to keep track of everything on the court, which only helped him off of it.

“If you’re a player-coach, you gotta be a fast thinker,” says Meschery. “Because not only do you have to run the play, not only do you have to be the guy that’s running the play, but you also have to be thinking about what the hell the forward’s gonna do, what the hell the center’s gonna be doing. … But you’re kind of having to see the whole court, and make decisions on the fly. And Lenny was unusually adept at that.”

Dick Snyder, a former teammate of Wilkens in St. Louis, joined up with him again in Seattle. “Lenny could look around and do anything he wanted to do with the ball in his hand, and absolutely never had to worry about that,” says Snyder. “It was just automatic. So he didn’t focus on what he was doing all that much. He knew what he was doing and he did it.”

Wilkens continued to play at a high level despite his added coaching duties. He led the league in assists in 1969-70, and was named the All-Star Game MVP in 1971. In each of the four seasons Wilkens was on the team (including three as a player-coach), the Sonics improved their win total from the previous season. None of the seasons resulted in a playoff appearance, however, and ownership lost interest in Wilkens as a player-coach.

Wilkens felt like he still had some playing years left, and preferred his salary as a player. He relinquished his coaching duties. The Sonics hired Tom Nissalke as their new coach. They then made an additional personnel move to accommodate him.

“They traded me away as a player because they were afraid the players would listen to me and not the new coach,” Wilkens recalls.

Wilkens landed with the Cleveland Cavaliers. He was initially unhappy with the trade, but he learned a lot playing under coach Bill Fitch.

In the offseason of 1974, following two seasons in Cleveland, Wilkens was considering retiring from playing. While in Seattle, where he still lived during the offseason, Wilkens became friendly with Portland Trail Blazers owner Herman Sarkowsky.

Sarkowsky was based in Seattle, where he worked as a real estate developer. He was also a part of an ownership group trying to land an NFL expansion franchise, which eventually became the Seattle Seahawks.

Sarkowsky talked Wilkens into becoming head coach of the Blazers. Wilkens’s player contract was also purchased from the Cavaliers, much to Wilkens’s surprise upon his arrival. “I didn’t realize they had acquired my playing rights as well,” says Wilkens. “So I wound up being a player-coach for Portland.“

Wilkens brought along the now-retired Meschery, his old teammate/assistant coach from the Sonics days, to reprise his role as his assistant. The Trail Blazers had just selected center Bill Walton with the first pick in the NBA draft, fresh off his illustrious career at UCLA.

I spoke with Walton before his passing in late May of last year, and when I asked him to describe his feelings about playing for Wilkens, he said: “Excitement, privilege, honor.” 

Wilkens was the starting point guard for 11 of the first 12 games of the season, averaging nine points and seven assists in 31 minutes per game. Eventually he settled into a reserve role and averaged just 15 minutes the rest of the season, appearing in 65 games total.

Walton showed great promise in his rookie campaign. However, he was limited to just 35 games with bad injury luck that would persist throughout his career. The Blazers finished the season 36-44, coming up short of a playoff berth.

In 1975, with strong input from Wilkens, the Blazers drafted Lionel Hollins and Bob Gross. Wilkens decided it was best to be a full-time coach to focus more attention on developing the younger players, but he would still participate as a player in practice from time to time. 

“If somebody was hurt or something, I could fill in,” recalls Wilkens. “I knew all the plays and everything, and I was in good shape.”

Walton’s injury troubles occurred again during the season. The Blazers had a winning record in the 51 games he appeared in, but a disappointing 37-45 overall record. Walton’s health, plus the learning curve of the young roster, was difficult to overcome. Tensions arose within the organization.

“Lenny was shortchanged by all of us,” Walton said. “He did not have the power or support of management.”

Sarkowsky was no longer running the team. He had sold his ownership stake in 1974, a few months after hiring Wilkens so that he could close the deal on the ownership of the Seahawks.

Larry Weinberg was now the managing owner of the Trail Blazers. He and Wilkens began to butt heads over the direction of the club. Neither would budge, leading to Wilkens being dismissed by Weinberg.

Jack Ramsay was hired as his replacement. In stunning fashion, the Blazers went on to win the championship the following season in 1977, as Walton experienced a prolonged period of health and emerged as one of the best players in the league.

While Wilkens obviously wasn’t a part of the team then, he was happy about their success and felt pride in the role he played in helping build and teaching the championship nucleus.

“I felt good because it was the team I put together,” says Wilkens. “All it did was make my confidence grow even more so that I knew what I was doing.”

“I love Lenny Wilkens and gratefully learned so much from him,” said Walton.
Wilkens continued his career as a coach a few years later when he returned to the sideline for the Sonics, leading the franchise to back-to-back NBA Finals, winning the championship in 1979. He served as head coach for a number of franchises, was at one point the winningest coach in NBA history and retired in 2005 as the all-time leader in wins. He is one of five members of the Naismith Hall of Fame to be inducted as both a player and coach. But not as a player-coach.