“We were the Cosa Nostra of basketball,” said Heinsohn, who also coached the Celtics for their 1974 and 1976 titles. “We thought it was our thing.”
He was known to a later generation of fans as a casual television analyst. His passion, exuberance and openness made him a colorful and controversial personality.
“One thing I learned a long time ago is that there is no control over what people think of you,” said Mr. Heinsohn, who once appeared in a famous Miller Lite commercial with NBA umpire Mendy Rudolph pushing him out of a bar. “Some people said of me, ‘Hey, it’s great to see someone with excitement’. Others said I was a screaming ass.
“And all I can say is, ‘That’s me, buddy.’ I’m involved and when I’m involved I let everything hang around. I’m not worried about my image. “
In a statement, the Celtics said: “For all his achievements as a player, coach and broadcaster, it is Tommy’s rich personality that defines the man. A loving father, grandfather and husband. A talented painter and lively golf partner. Unofficial mentor to decades of Celtics- Coach and player. A frequent constructive critic of umpires. Creator of the “most Celtic stat” of them all, The Tommy Point. And a boundless love for all things Boston Celtics, a passion he shared with fans for over 64 years.
“As long as the Boston Celtics exist, Tommy’s spirit will stay alive.”
The Celtics Ownership Group, led by Wyc Grousbeck and Steve Pagliuca, added to the team’s statement, “This is a devastating loss. Tommy was the ultimate Celtic. Over the past 18 years, our group of owners has relied heavily on Tommy’s advice and insight, and has been praised in his hundreds of stories about Red Auerbach, Bill Russell, and how the Celtics became a dynasty. He will be remembered forever. “
Thomas William Heinsohn, born August 26, 1934, was raised in Union City, New Jersey, where he attended St. Michaels High School before enrolling at Holy Cross.
“My mother bought me a brand new suit to go to college,” he recalled. “We were poor, but she wanted me to have that. It was a powder blue suit with pinned pants – you know, thin at the bottom. I think I made quite an impression with that. “
Mr. Heinsohn made a more lasting impression on the field, where he was the captain of the crusaders and a first team All-American. He achieved a school record of 51 points against Boston College at the Garden and led the Crusaders to the 1954 National Invitational Tournament title and two NCAA postseason offers.
Before the Celtics selected him as their territorial choice in the 1956 draft, Mr. Heinsohn considered playing for the Amateur Athletic Union team in Peoria, Illinois, and trying his hand at this year’s Melbourne Olympics, where he would join future teammates from Boston, Russell and KC Jones would have played on the US gold medal team.
Instead, he signed with the Celtics and played an invaluable starting role in their 1957 title fight. In Game 7 of the last series against the St. Louis Hawks, Mr. Heinsohn scored 37 points and took 23 rebounds, leading the Celtics to a double overtime triumph. It was the franchise’s first NBA championship.
“I could only play easily and without fantasies,” said Heinsohn, who was named the league’s rookie of the year. “The guys, Cousy and Bill Sharman, who were here the whole time to win a championship were so concerned that they couldn’t get out of the way that day. I just went out and played. “
Mr. Heinsohn scored 12,194 points during his career, which is an average of almost 19 points per game, despite smoking cigarettes in the locker room before the game and at halftime.
“If Heinsohn wanted to kill himself, that was fine with me,” said coach Red Auerbach years later. “As long as it didn’t slow him down.”
Intensely competitive
Nicknamed “Tommy Gun” and “Ack-Ack”, Mr. Heinsohn was the team’s designated shooter who didn’t need encouragement to aim and shoot.
“Give Tommy credit for a cause,” the Celtics playmaker Cousy once remarked. “He never shoots without the ball.”
Shooting was Mr Heinsohn’s job, said Auerbach, noting that his teammates would love to hold the ball every now and then. Mr. Heinsohn, who appeared in a time without the 3-point long-range shot, used a bowless sweater and a clever hook, but could also storm and make his way to the basket.
“He would knock his grandmother down for 2 points,” remarked teammate Frank Ramsey.
Mr. Heinsohn, who was 6 feet 7 inches and weighed 220 pounds, was the “volunteer” tapped to obstruct Wilt Chamberlain, the 7-foot Titan, so that Cousy and Russell could work freely.
“It worked for a while, but Wilt understood and didn’t like it,” said Heinsohn. “Finally he said, ‘You do this again, I’m going to hit your ass.’ And I said, “Bring your lunch.” And sure, the next time he threw me on the floor. “
Mr. Heinsohn, who was Auerbach’s preferred target for locker room lectures, was used to absorbing abuse for the benefit of the team.
“Red would say Tommy, you have to do this, Tommy, you have to do this – and that goes for you too, Russell,” said Mr. Heinsohn.
Mr. Heinsohn took the biggest flak for his role as president of the players’ union, whose members threatened not to participate in the 1964 All-Star Game in the Garden unless the NBA owners agreed to set up a retirement plan.
“Heinsohn is number 1 in all of my athletic relationships,” said angry Celtics owner Walter Brown, who thought Mr. Heinsohn was disloyal.
The owners and players came to an agreement before the tip, and after Mr. Heinsohn produced another title in the garden three months later, Brown turned around.
“No living being – horse, dog or human – has ever given as much to the competition as Tommy contributed to the Celtics,” he said.
Transition to coaching
Mr. Heinsohn still had one season ahead of him; his career was interrupted by a foot injury at the age of 30. He retired in 1965 with one final ring, which Mr Heinsohn believed was reduced because he watched the final minutes of the final victory over the Lakers from the bench.
“It was heartbreaking for me to see Willie Naulls play in my position and the Celtics ousting their seventh title in a row without me,” he wrote in “Heinsohn, do you never smile?” with co-author Leonard Lewin.
Auerbach, who resigned as coach after the 1966 season, offered him the job, but Mr. Heinsohn refused.
“I couldn’t deal with Russell,” he said to Auerbach. “Russell would never play for me. I couldn’t motivate him. “
So Auerbach appointed Russell player-coach, and Mr. Heinsohn returned to his off-season job: selling insurance. But when Russell retired after three seasons, Mr. Heinsohn succeeded him.
Selling insurance is nowhere near as fulfilling as life on the pitch.
“I got used to instant results – in 48 minutes I was either winning or losing,” he said.
What he inherited in 1969 was a massive rebuilding project on Causeway Street, and that season’s record (34-48) was the worst since 1950. But with proven veterans in John Havlicek, Tom Sanders and Don Nelson and talented young players Dave Cowens, Jo Jo White and Don Chaney, Mr. Heinsohn, established a fast-paced style of running that left the rivals legless and breathless. After reversing the trend in his second campaign, he was named NBA Coach of the Year.
“I felt like I saw something that I had created,” he said.
The Celtics won the crown in two of the following three years, but when the team collapsed in the 1977/78 season, Mr. Heinsohn, who signed a multi-year contract extension in the spring, was fired after nine years. 427 wins and six playoff appearances. He was replaced by Sanders. Auerbach said it was “the hardest thing I’ve ever done”.
Mr. Heinsohn (“I’m not afraid of the world.”) Was philosophical about his dismissal.
“I had the roller coaster ride,” he said. “I went to Playland and walked up and down and looked in all the mirrors. I’ve done all of this. And I never looked back on anything. “
Creative with words and color
Mr. Heinsohn continued his engagement with the Celtics as a color commentator on the team’s television shows with play-by-play announcer Mike Gorman. They would deliver the longest continuous on-air collaboration of any professional sports team.
“Tommy doesn’t really do color,” noted Gorman. “In his heart he still trains the Celtics and always will be. It doesn’t matter who the coach is, and it’s not disrespect to the coach. This will always be Tommy’s team. Tommy will train this team until he takes his last breath. If it were possible to still play for this team, it would be him. “
Mr. Heinsohn’s extensive comment with his hometown inflection was little participatory. The man who had been the league’s most important coffee shop philosopher during his coaching days – his credentials ranged from Romeo and Juliet to Henry Clay, Ebenezer Scrooge to Bigfoot – was a master at creating word images in the air.
Throughout his life he also showed a gift for creating paintings on canvas.
Painting has been one of Mr Heinsohn’s favorite pastimes since childhood when he was disappointed to receive a baseball glove as a Christmas present instead of a pastel set.
“When I started it was something I could do myself,” said Mr. Heinsohn, who once dreamed of retiring to Gloucester to paint. “It’s really like a friend. It keeps me involved in something. Its relaxing. It is fun. It’s a social exercise. It’s an intellectual exercise. “
Mr. Heinsohn, a frequent exhibitor who sold some of his paintings and gave others away, was interested in landscapes, many of which he discovered on road trips around the country.
In his Cleveland hotel room, which overlooked a wall, Mr. Heinsohn was drawing a still life of his boots on a side table when snow fell outside.
“You have to keep doing it,” he said. “Sport is an art. Painting is an art. It’s about mastering the basics and nurturing your creativity. “
Mr. Heinsohn’s most cherished portrait was that of his second wife, Helen, whom he called “the redhead of Needham” who died in 2008 after a six year battle with cancer.
“My joke has always been, ‘Nothing can happen to me because Tommy can’t find his socks,'” she once said.
