The Sons of Westwood: John Wooden, UCLA, and the Dynasty That Changed College Basketball

4. Alone in a Crowd

4 “ Alone in a Crowd f reshmen are not allowed to talk to reporters.” Every time a writer approached Lew Alcindor with a tape recorder, pencil, and paper, he replied with this standard line. During his freshman year, the UCLA athletic department received more than one hundred requests to interview him, an unmatched volume for any player nationwide. His high school coach had refused to allow the press anywhere near him, and now journalists would have to patiently wait another year to talk with him. J. D. Morgan maintained that UCLA “always” had a policy that prohibited freshman interviews, a rule that no writer seemed to remember. John Wooden claimed that the policy was not made up, but that there had never been any requests to interview a freshman. UCLA sports information director Vic Kelley explained that Morgan and Wooden were simply complying with the wishes of Lew’s parents, an accusation that Alcindor later denied. Whatever the truth, the origins of the “gag” rule mattered less than its consequences. Alcindor’s silence generated greater curiosity and anticipation over his first game and his first interview. Despite his notoriety as a high school phenom, the public wanted more from him. They knew that he was going to be a great basketball player, maybe the best ever, but they really wanted to know what he was thinking.1 No player in the history of college basketball created more media interest and public controversy than Lew Alcindor. As the best player on the best team, he was expected, not predicted, to lead UCLA to an undefeated season and win the national championship. Anything short of perfection would have been considered a failure. Under intense pressure, “the most publicized player of the decade” endured overwhelming attention and constant scrutiny. Photographers, writers, and autograph seekers hounded him everywhere he went. Public fascination with Alcindor persuaded newspaper and magazine editors to expand their coverage of college basketball. For UCLA he was a valuable commodity, responsible for endless ticket lines, attendance records, and lucrative gates at numerous arenas. Public interest in him also added stress to John Wooden’s life. He had experience dealing with standouts like Walt Hazzard and Gail Goodrich, but now he had to handle the increasing demands of coaching college basketball’s biggest celebrity.2 College athletes rarely defied the sports establishment, but Alcindor’s developing racial consciousness inspired him to challenge preconceived notions about how a black athlete was supposed to act. When he came to UCLA, most writers described him as sweet, respectful, and humble. One Los Angeles Times writer noted that he had been warmly received by basketball fans because “they can see his manner on the court—polite, casual, and emotionless.” Beneath the veil of his perceived nonchalance and youthful innocence was “a certain sensitivity and introspection not common in athletes,” a seriousness and an anger over racial inequality. He echoed the rhetoric of Malcolm X, exhibited racial pride, and questioned the myth of an integrated American Dream. For some whites, it was very unsettling.3 Most people were shocked when he said that California was not the racial paradise that the public had imagined. “What everyone hears about California isn’t true,” he told Ebony magazine. “I expected to see a lot of aware people and there aren’t. California runs a game on the rest of the country. It pretends to be liberal but it really isn’t.” He realized that the virulent racism that most Americans associated with the South was not a regional problem. “The South is in Montgomery, Alabama,” he said. “But the South is also in Cicero, Illinois. The South is in Great Neck, Long Island. The South is in Orange County, California. It’s everywhere.” He could have added that the South was in Westwood, California, too. Although strangers exalted him for his athletic accomplishments, Alcindor rejected whites’ acceptance solely 80 . Chapter Four on the basis of his talent, knowing that without basketball, he would have been treated, in his words, as just another “jive nigger.”4  Watts was burning. On a hot and sticky August night, a white California highway patrolman stopped a swerving car on suspicion of drunk driving. When he confronted the black suspect, a group of black residents gathered in the street, eyeing the officer with contempt. The police had a reputation for stopping black motorists without cause and whacking them with their batons, or...