Bill Russell doesn't get enough credit for being arguably the biggest game-changing player in the history of team sports; perhaps only rivaled by Babe Ruth. Before Bill Russell, basketball was a floor-bound game, dominated by slower, plodding guys who couldn't jump over a phone book but were very tall, like George Mikan or Neil Johnston. That was basketball, a game that shunned athleticism in favor of height and not-so-consequently, shunned Black players. The acting of jumping on defense was actively discouraged; players were told not to leave their feet. Simply put, the game was nothing like what it would become.
As a high schooler, Russell was undervalued. He was tall and quick and bouncy, but he didn't grasp the fundamentals of what people wanted out of a basketball player; which were basically that he couldn't reliably put up a hook shot. People didn't understand the impact he could have defensively and what being a vertical athlete could mean to basketball. While most college coaches would love to have a raw, 6'10, bouncy athlete on their team, there was real skepticism about Russell as a player, which is why he only got one scholarship offer, to San Francisco.
At San Francisco, even as he emerged as an obviously dominant player to modern eyes, there was a lot of skepticism about Russell as a player. Sportswriters scoffed at his lack of offensive fundamentals and his untraditional playing style. Nobody had ever really blocked shots before Russell; the closest would be players like Bob Kurland, who committed what we would know call goaltending, around the basket. Russell coming over as a help-defender and blocking shots was never seen before, and people didn't understand it. Some argued that he was a bad defender, because he would leave his own man to go make a play. Few eventually realized the kind of impact he was having on the court.
Russell fully arrived as a player during his junior season at San Francisco, but even as Russell dominated the game, the skepticism remained. It really wasn't until the NCAA title game, where San Francisco beat La Salle and Tom Gola, that Russell was finally acknowledged as a great player. Gola and La Salle were the reigning national champions and Gola was perhaps the most famous college basketball player in history at that time; but Russell held him to only 16 points and San Francisco dominated La Salle.
An undefeated season and another national title would follow. Yet, people still doubted if Russell would be an effective basketball player at the next level. He wasn't taken first overall in the draft, even though he was clearly the most dominant player college basketball had ever seen. To some people, Russell just wasn't what a basketball player should be because he actually jumped and played above the rim.
Red Auerbach understood it; he understood the way the game was changing and what Russell, already the penultimate winner in college basketball, could do as the engine of his team. He understood the defensive value that Russell brought as a player, and how his rebounding, shot blocking, an outlet passing would be the critical component to take his talented (but perennially disappointing) Celtics team to the next level. He understood that black athletes were the future of basketball, and that playing a vertical game was critical to evolving into the future while other teams dug in their heels and blew Russell off as a gimmick that wouldn't work in the NBA.
Russell came to the NBA and completely changed the game. Mikan was retired, but ground-bound stars still ruled the game. One of them was Neil Johnston, who had led the NBA in scoring in three out of the previous four seasons, and the Philadelphia Warriors were the reigning champions and the class of the Eastern Conference. In Russell's third career game, on Christmas Day, 1956, Johnston immediately went to work on Russell, setting up for his patented hook shot that had won him three scoring titles. Russell blocked it. Johnston tried again. Russell blocked it. Johnston tried a third time. Russell blocked it. Johnston was held to 14 points on 5-17 shooting. Johnston would retire two years later; and Tommy Heinsohn would say "Russell played Johnston right out of the league."
Johnston wasn't the only one who wouldn't survive the Russell Revolution. Almost overnight with the arrival of Russell, the old guard of the NBA was dead. Ed Macauley would only make it two more seasons after being traded for Russell, Harry Gallatin, Vern Mikkelsen, Mel Hutchins, all men who made multiple all star games and All-NBA teams, would see their status as top post players be erased as quickly as one of their weak, fundamentally sound, hook shots.
Over time, more players would come into the game that played like Russell, with Wilt being the most famous. But Russell was the first; the first "athletic" Center, the first guy to block shots, the first guy to play above the rim. Everyone knows that he was a great winner and a great teammate and a super-clutch player and all of that, but he was the FIRST guy to basically play basketball in the way people now consider the normal standard. Outside of Ruth introducing the home run to baseball, it's hard to think of a player who was a bigger innovator to their sport than Russell.
By the time Russell's career wrapped up, the NBA was completely different and it was crawling with quick, athletic big-men in the Russell mold. Willis Reed, Elvin Hayes, Gus Johnson and with many more on the way (including his eventual replacement in Dave Cowens). Russell's edge in physical superiority had waned, especially in his battles with Wilt. That is of course when the second aspect of Russell brilliance of a player kicked-in; that cerebral understanding of the game and the compulsion to win. Later in his career, Russell wasn't blocking a dozen shots a game, but his understanding of how to organize his team (literally, he was the coach), turn it on at the biggest moments, and stay poised under pressure, were invaluable aspects to his success and every bit as important to winning as were his obvious physical gifts and innovative playing style.
Russell and Jordan stand alone as the two greatest players in NBA history for that rare combination. Both men possessed game-changing athleticism, but also had a rare drive to succeed and win, at almost any cost and to an unhealthy degree. Jordan's competitiveness has been well documented, but Russell was every bit as motivated by the fear of losing, to the degree that he was still puking before games, even with two fists full of rings. You could add LeBron to that class as well; although the modern nature of his career and hopping between teams makes him harder to compare.
Lastly, Russell's advocacy for social justice and change have been well-celebrated over the last 18 hours or so since he died; and it's really pleasant to see how that hasn't been forgotten. Personally, Russell's experience in Boston held an important mirror up to the history of racism in the city and what that means for today.
The most famous racial incident in the history of the city is probably the busing riots; but for a teenager when I first learned about them, that was a complicated issue. As an adult it is easy to see the racially charged anger that led to the riots, but at the time it was explainable to me that people would be upset about their kids being shipped away from their neighborhood schools and that the riots were not entirely race-related.
With what happened to Russell though? People breaking into his house and shitting in his bed? How could you possibly explain that as other than horrifying racism? The consistent anger he felt towards the city was a reminder of the kind of environment he lived through when he should have been universally celebrated. And what did that environment that Russell endured say about my parents, who grew up and were shaped during that time period, or my grandparents, whose generation modeled the city under that sort of behavior?
It's a constant reminder in my life about what racism is like in Greater Boston; that people who grew up in an environment where what happened to Russell wasn't viewed as a massive tragedy and in some circles was certainly condoned and encouraged, are still around today and often in positions of power. What happened to Russell, and countless other Black residents of the city, wasn't that long ago and some of it still certainly still takes place today, and we as a society have got to do better.
What Russell did wasn't easy. He was outspoken and constantly vigilant in his intolerance for racism and disrespect. He was criticized for sportswriters for not being the model negro, the grateful athlete who could be respected for being a trailblazer as long as they didn't mention to often why they had to blaze a trail in the first place. It was notable that on his social media, right after announcing his passing, it was mentioned that he led the first integrated basketball camp in Mississippi, shortly after Medgar Evans was killed. That sounds like a truly incredible accomplishment, the kind of thing you could easily make a Remember-the-Titans-style movie about, and I had never heard that before, and I feel like I know more about Russell than 99% of the population. For Russell is was just another thing he did in his life.
It's amazing to think that at the time, Russell was viewed as prickly and sore with the media. Because he wasn't the grateful, happy-to-be-there athlete that the media demanded, and because he didn't keep his mouth shut and play ball like Jackie Robinson was told to do, and because he was justifiably angry about the horrible racism he had endured throughout his life, he was seen as a bitter and angry man.
That contrasts with basically any time we've seen him over the last 40 years on video, or any personal stories you hear from people who were around him. He always came across to me as funny, charming and someone who absolutely loved life. I can still hear his trademark, yuck-yuck laugh ringing in my ears. He never comes across as bitter or angry, just someone who was acutely aware of the cruelties that were unjustly directed at him as a Black man who excelled.