Lenny Wilkens: The winningest basketball coach of all time

Ebony, April, 1999 by Kevin Chappell

HE has the regal presence and even temperament of a college professor, and Lenny Wilkens says he probably would have been a teacher if not for his knack for basketball.

But his physical quickness as a NBA player and mental sharpness as a coach--and his desire to be the best at both--have kept him away from the classroom and on the court for the last 40 years.

Called the best NBA coach ever by some, Wilkens became an undisputed basketball legend when he surpassed Boston Celtics great Red Auerbach in 1995 to become the winningest coach in NBA history. During his 26-year career, he has accumulated more than 1,100 victories, coached 17 winning seasons and took his teams to the playoffs 15 times--all without the luxury of having a true superstar on his roster:

He has been named one of the NBA's Top 10 coaches of all time and also one of the Top 50 players in league history, and is the only person ever to be inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame twice as a professional--as a player in 1989 and as a coach a few months ago. He has an NBA championship, an All-Star Game MVP trophy, a Coach of the Year award, an Olympic gold medal, and is "still good looking" according to Marilyn Wilkens, his wife of 36 years.

Indeed, Wilkens has aged well on and off the court. Since graduating from Providence College in 1960, he has gracefully become a husband, father, grandfather and basketball legend. But if you think he's satisfied, think again. As the 60-year-old Bronx, N.Y., native relaxes in the study of his cozy Seattle home, he says his work is far from done. In his sixth year as coach of the Atlanta Hawks, Wilkens says he is more invigorated than ever, having more fun than ever--and, in some respects, is angrier than ever.

Wilkens is one of the few Blacks who has survived what has been called the NBA "blackout"--the systematic denial of head coaching jobs to Blacks. In a league that historically hasn't been too fair to African-Americans, Wilkens says he has been the exception, in part, because he was fortunate enough to achieve quick success as a coach, and because he "wasn't going to be denied."

But even today, as he rewrites the record books, some people continue to want him to prove himself. He's heard it all: He's too quiet, too laid back, too nice, too patient. But he has been around long enough to be able to read between the lines. A sport dominated by Black athletes, there are some who, no matter what, continue to think that a Black man can't be a good NBA coach. Wilkens admits that the stereotypes and double standards have, at times, eaten at him. "How the hell could I do all of this?" he asks rhetorically, pointing to the dozens of awards that make up his trophy wall in his home. "Wherever I've gone, I've won. I'm a competitor. I want to win. I want to compete. I'm a bad loser. You don't see it after the game. I try to control myself. Unless I get too many dumb questions, then occasionally I react. And when I have reacted, then they say I'm `smug.' They don't say that about the White [coaches]. They're geniuses. Larry Bird didn't yell and scream. Is he laid back? They don't say that about him. So why do they say that about me? I've won a championship. I've taken every team I've coached and made them competitors. So they can say what they want. But the facts are out there."

And what makes his accomplishments even more special is the journey he travelled to achieve them. Growing up in a single-parent household in the Bronx, "a lot of times people didn't think I was going to make it, but I was determined to prove them wrong. That's something I've had inside of me since I was a kid," says Wilkens, who took the man-of-the-house role after his father died when he was 5. "When you grow up without a dad in a tough neighborhood, you have to prove yourself all of the time. I didn't mind doing that, because it was a way of life. I was going to prove to you that I was as good as you."

He watched his hero Jackie Robinson prove himself time and time again, year after year, on the field as well as off. "I remember sitting in the bleachers as a kid and watching him play," he says. "The thing about Jackie Robinson was that he never complained about his situation. He went out there to show you he was as good as you ... He was my role model. He never made excuses for himself. So I wasn't going to."

Throughout his life, Wilkens has had many chances to make excuses. His childhood took an unexpected turn when his father died and the family was forced to go on public assistance to make ends meet. "We didn't have anything," he says. "It was a struggle. We didn't have the new clothes like everyone else ... But what we had was respect and love. It amazes me even today at what my mother was able to go through. I never saw anyone pray as much as she did. So I'm a testament that prayer works."

He says the one thing he remembers most about his mother, Henrietta Cross Wilkens, was her disdain for laziness. "My mother didn't like anyone who was lazy," he says of his mother, who is now 83 and lives in New York City. "She would not let us be. I always had a job. I had a job since I was 7. I delivered groceries. I was a stock clerk in a store. I washed floors in this lady's house. I've tarred roofs, painted houses. I've loaded sugar trucks."