Dr. Jack and That Crazy Blazermania

I was a big fan in 1977.  Hell, if you lived in Oregon there was no getting around it.

I was living in Lebanon, Oregon that spring and early summer as Dr. Jack and Bill Walton led the Trail Blazers--or Trailblazers as the team's name was written frequently then.

I watched all six games with my friends in Lebanon, a series of great moments.  Julius Erving, Dr. J., who unlike Jack Ramsay wasn't a PhD at all, and powerful, talented George McGinnis were handled by the less talented Blazers, who focused on teamwork and ran relentlessly.

Shortly after the big victory parade in downtown Portland, I moved to the city.

Been here ever since, and I've seen a lot of players and coaches come and go.  One of the original expansion Blazers, Rick Adelman, almost coached them to the title again in 1989 and 1992, but couldn't repeat Ramsay's magic.

Ramsay was a big deal here in Portland, and I talked with him late one evening in Delphina's Restaurant in Northwest Portland after a tough loss that I'd watched on television.  Jack was enjoying a late dinner alone and came up to the bar for some reason.  I asked him why Clyde Drexler had played so poorly and appeared to be in one of his regular, pouting funks at the time.

"I wish I knew," Ramsay said.  I could read the extreme disappointment on his face.

But he did know, he just wouldn't say it to a stranger. Drexler was a young prima donna, it was easy to see. He was loafing because he could, and that was about the worst thing you could do if you played for Dr. Jack.


TS