Remembering Lenny Wilkens — The Quiet Leader: No Shouting, No Ego, All Class

Twelve years ago today, I had the privilege of interviewing one of the most gracious, thoughtful, and quietly powerful men ever to lace up a pair of sneakers or hold a clipboard ,the great Lenny Wilkens ,on my radio show, SportstalkNY.

Today, I’m heartbroken to write about his passing. Lenny left us yesterday at age 88 — fittingly, just one day before the anniversary of that interview. On my author website, I’m not limited to the Mets-centric stories I write for Kiner’s Korner; here, I can reflect on the many remarkable people I’ve been fortunate to interview over the years. Sadly, that often means remembering guests from my radio show who have passed on ,and this one, like so many others, hits hard. I can still hear that calm Brooklyn cadence, the humility in his voice when talking about the people who helped him get there, and the utter absence of ego from a man who won more basketball games than almost anyone in history.

He was inducted into the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame three times ,as a player, a coach, and a member of the 1992 Dream Team. That’s the basketball version of hitting for the cycle and then throwing a no-hitter. He was an All-Star as both a player and a coach, an NBA champion with Seattle, an Olympic gold medal coach with Team USA, and a man so steeped in class that even his opponents rooted for him.

But what struck me that night wasn’t the résumé. It was the man.

Lenny’s story began in Brooklyn, where life wasn’t always easy. He spoke fondly of his early basketball influences and the people who guided him. “When I first went out for the team, like Tommy [Davis] said, we actually had 15 guys on that team. But Mickey Fisher only played eight, and I was number 15. My mother wouldn't have understood it, because I needed to help the family. My dad had passed, and she was a single mom raising us. It was tough, it was difficult. So I had a little job after school to help. But I started to play CYO ball, I started to play on the playgrounds and during gym periods, play against the varsity players. And Tommy stayed after me that I should come out for the team, that I could help them, I could make the team. And then he and a priest friend from my parish finally convinced me. And I went out my senior year, and I guess I surprised myself and everybody else. I made the starting five. And all the top teams, we beat them, and I played very well.”

Oh by the way, that Tommy Davis was the Tommy Davis who’d go on to win two National League batting titles with the Dodgers and later suit up for the Mets. Two Brooklyn kids, one bound for the big leagues and the other for the Basketball Hall of Fame, both starting out on the same neighborhood courts.

Lenny spoke about the coaches who shaped him early on, especially Father Thomas Mannion. “He'd put chairs out and he'd tell me I had to use both hands dribbling around. And he was an optimist. When I would get down or upset, he'd look at me and say, ‘Well, who promised you?’ You know, like nothing's promised. And I'd look at him, and later on I started to understand that. But he wrote a letter to Providence, told them about me. The coach didn't see me play, but I did play. I was eligible for all the postseason high school tournaments. And I played in a tournament, and our team played against all the high school All-Americans. And I got the most valuable player, and we won the tournament.”

College ball at Providence built on those lessons. Lenny reflected, “I was always encouraged at Providence. And Father Mannion remained a close friend. Tommy Davis was still a close friend, and he was playing for the Dodgers. And so they inspired me. And I was always told, don't get discouraged easily. If you didn't succeed at first, try again. And so I always felt like when I was on the court, I could handle my own. I knew I could defend people. And I just felt like I was going to make them respect me. So I enjoyed the game. Basketball was quick, it was physical, aggressive, and I loved it. And I just believed that I had a presence. And I knew that I could get the ball to wherever I wanted it to be. And so I think that was a huge advantage for me.”

He reflected on the old freshman-ball system, something many college programs have abandoned. “Well, I like the old system. I felt that when you're a freshman, if you have to play freshman ball, it not only gives you a chance to mature and grow in the sport, but the same in college, in the surroundings—you know, maturing as an adult. So I felt freshman ball was very good for the young players because it took some of that pressure off that is on the varsity and you can learn your fundamentals probably a little bit better. I think that when they come in now and they can play varsity ball right away, I don't feel they're ready.”

In a separate conversation off the air, he summed up the same philosophy more succinctly: “You need time to grow up before you grow famous.”

Classic Lenny: a line that should be embroidered on every NCAA rulebook.

In 1960, the Knicks had the No. 3 pick and told Lenny they were interested. But they picked Darrell Imhoff instead. Lenny went sixth to St. Louis. When I teased him about that on the air, he laughed. “At that time, it didn’t disappoint me,” he said. “I wasn’t sure I’d play pro ball anyway.”

That right there tells you everything about Wilkens. A man of faith and humility, not entitlement.

When he joined the St. Louis Hawks as a rookie, the learning curve was steep. “I thought it was remarkable. Because I began to know who these pros were. You know, I didn't really follow pro basketball in college. Like I followed pro baseball. I could tell you who on the top 6, 7, 8 teams in baseball. I could tell you all the players. I couldn't tell you who all the players were in the NBA. But as the season went on I began to respect these guys I was playing. I was playing with a couple of great players, Bob Pettit and Cliff Hagan. And Pettit was a guy that I saw. He came to play every night. I don't care if he wasn't feeling well or whatever. He was a guy that you could write in the book every night that he was going to get you 10 plus rebounds. He was going to get you 10 plus points. I mean, he was so consistent. And he was a guy I really respected him and Cliff Hagan because my locker was next to Cliff. And I would see how he would prepare and get ready for a game. So that first year was very exciting because a lot of exciting things happened. We beat the Lakers. We went on and played the Celtics in the Finals. It was just... no one could have written the story any better than that. And for me it was a great learning year because I realized I could compete at that level.”

Even his military service influenced the way he led on the court. “I had troop duty. And before the season started, once I got through my basic officers orientation course I was established to the 1st battalion. And one of my responsibilities was the training, conditioning for the battalion. And so I would make... there was an airborne battalion right next to us at Fort Lee. And so because I wanted to stay in shape I'd make them train. And I would train with the airborne division. So they were in great shape. And the guys respected me because I was out there doing it. And I think that that experience in dealing with young guys and working with them, eventually they were shipping officers overseas. And even though I was about to become a 1st lieutenant I had to run the student battalion. And I remember we had a couple of guys AWOL. And I had to bone up and learn because we had to discipline guys. And that was my responsibility. But I had two of the greatest 1st sergeants ever. And these guys, I don't care what anyone says. They run the military. They know. And so I learned from them. And they were very willing to help teach me what was expected, what was needed. And things like that. So that experience really helped me when I came out of the military because there were times when I had to run a practice or show leadership with the team, and I wasn't afraid of it.”

Coaching brought its own challenges, but Lenny approached them with the same philosophy he had learned as a player and as a soldier. “Three of the teams I thought that I maximized their talent. And that was certainly when I took over Seattle. They were 5 and 17. And I took them to the championship round. We turned it around. When I was in Cleveland, I thought that the young players I had, I helped them grow, mature and made them a contending team. And so I thought that was great. And then Atlanta, I thought that I maximized the use of the talent that we had there and we were a competitive team. The biggest disappointment certainly was New York because when I came there it was in January and they weren't going anywhere. People were saying they were terrible. They couldn't make the playoffs. And I felt, my staff and I, that we turned the team around and we got into the playoffs. However, a trade was made that I didn’t agree with. Isaiah Thomas and I had different opinions, and just before the playoffs, we traded two players for Tim Thomas. The full context was part of a complicated three-team deal: the Knicks sent Michael Doleac and a future second-round pick to Atlanta, and Keith Van Horn went to Milwaukee, while Atlanta sent Nazr Mohammed to New York and Milwaukee sent Joel Przybilla to Atlanta. Lenny felt that the two players he had traded could have been key contributors in the playoffs, and losing them made the postseason that much tougher.."And they both were playing good for me. And I thought in the playoffs they would be a real factor. But not having them, we lost in the playoffs to New Jersey. And that was very disappointing. And after that I kind of lost interest in being with that franchise.”

He told me his proudest coaching stops were Seattle, Cleveland, and Atlanta. “In all three, I thought I got the most out of what I had,” he said. “We grew, matured, and competed.”

His biggest disappointment? “New York,” he said bluntly. “I felt my staff and I turned the team around , but a trade was made before the playoffs that I didn’t agree with. After that, I kind of lost interest in being with that franchise.”

Even in criticism, he was diplomatic ,never bitter, just matter-of-fact.

Even beyond basketball, Lenny’s generosity and commitment to helping young people shone through. “The foundation, every year we have a big dinner auction on a Friday night, a golf tournament on Saturday. And we raise a lot of funds. We raise funds for mostly for the Odessa Brown Children's Clinic, which is a clinic in Seattle in the low-income area, provides health care. There are a lot of young people, a lot of people, period, who don't have health care. And I know what that's like because my dad died when I was five, and we didn't have health care. And we had to go to the local clinic, which was at St. Mary's Hospital at that time, growing up in Brooklyn. And they didn't always want to see you or treat you nice, and, you know, waiting lists. You had to wait around, and if they got to you, fine. At the Odessa Brown Children's Clinic, these young people are treated with dignity, like a human being. And I think that everybody should be entitled to health care when you live in a country like this. We also work with—it's called Rainier Scholars. We give them funds, and they help young people who are talented enough in academics but can't afford to go to college. They help them to get into schools and give them stipends. We also work with high schools in the Seattle area. We work with a Dr. Chappie out of Children's Hospital who is working with concussions, diagnosing concussions much earlier. Because all too often, later on, it can be fatal to a lot of people. So those are things that are important, and they're important for young people, and I'm all about that.”

When I think about that interview now, twelve years to the day , one theme runs through it: service. Whether it was serving his country, his players, or his community, Lenny Wilkens led by example.

He told me, “You show people how to have success and then you can raise their expectations.”

He did that everywhere he went.

There are coaches who win games. There are players who fill highlight reels. But there are only a few people who elevate an entire sport ,who make everyone around them better just by the way they carry themselves.

That was Lenny Wilkens.

From the playgrounds of Brooklyn to the bright lights of the NBA, from Providence to the Dream Team, from the courts of CYO to Olympic gold he never stopped teaching, never stopped leading, and never stopped believing.

Rest easy, Coach. The world just lost one of its all-time point guards — in basketball, and in life.

Listen to the full interview below: