The High And The Mighty

The Houston Rockets were perched on a precipice above the deep, dark abyss of a 2-0 deficit in the NBA finals when Akeem Olajuwon looked down and stuck out his tongue.

"I just don't see any way they can beat us here," said Olajuwon on Saturday afternoon. "Now that we're at home, in our own building, in front of our own fans and feeling comfortable. No way." He said it again and again, with feeling. He told anyone who asked him about a possible 4-0 Celtic sweep: "Ha, that's a joke! That would be a very big joke. I can't believe you are really serious to even ask me that question."

The Rockets did indeed beat Boston 106-104 in Sunday's Game 3 at the Summit, just as Olajuwon said they would, although heaven knows how many miracles they had to call in to do it and whether or not they have any left.

But give the Rockets credit—the fifth sweep in NBA championship history seemed not just possible, but likely, before Houston shucked its chains on Sunday. Invective lower than a snake's belly was being hurled at that familiar target, Ralph Sampson, as well as at Houston's starting guards, Robert Reid and Lewis Lloyd, who, in Games 1 and 2 in Boston Garden, were outscored (70-34), outrebounded (24-12) and outstolen (9-4) by the Celtic backcourt of Dennis Johnson and Danny Ainge. Even Olajuwon found no very big jokes in the Garden. "It was our worst game of the year," he said after Game 2. "I was ashamed."

Actually, if there was a scarlet letter to be worn, Sampson deserved to wear it. In Game 1, a 112-100 Celtic victory, Sampson drew his third foul less than five minutes into the game and sat out the rest of the half. He returned in the second half, sort of, missing 12 of 13 shots to finish the game with two points, seven rebounds and frown lines that didn't disappear until the Rocket plane touched down in Houston four days later. Nor was he much of a defensive force inside—Kevin McHale had 21 points, Robert Parish 23. Parish was particularly effective and appeared no more nervous than his wife, Nancy, who sang the national anthem before the game.

Almost all of the Rockets' red glare was provided by Olajuwon, a man who saw no allure in the lore of the Garden. "I don't know that tradition," said Olajuwon. "I'm not from around here." But he plays as if he were. In Game 1 he scored 33 points, had 12 rebounds and won the enduring respect of the Boston defense, which took to doubling him in the second half. "We felt we could not play Olajuwon one-on-one," said Celtic coach K.C. Jones. "We had to go make him give it up." And whom, Jones was asked, did the Celtics assign to that task? "Hell, I don't know," he said.

Hell he didn't. It was Larry Bird, who has the hands to strip basketballs, the bulk to block big bodies and the reputation to keep referees from blowing whistles as he does so. Bird finished the game with 21 points, 8 rebounds, 13 assists and 4 steals, a line that heralded the fact that the week—even including Sunday, when he had a triple-double in defeat—would be Bird's. Two days after Game 1, he received his third straight Most Valuable Player Award and showed considerable stage presence before the media horde.

Only two other players had won three straight MVPs, and Bird mentioned both in his acceptance speech. "I'm proud to be in a group with Bill Russell," said Bird. "But Wilt Chamberlain talks a little bit too much for me." Then Bird went on to talk a little bit, too. He said: "I just felt there was no one in the league who could stop me if I was playing hard." Or: "For the first time every team tried to double me. Trying to beat two guys was a lot more fun." Or: "What makes me tough to guard is that once I'm near the three-point line, I can score from anywhere on the court. It's kind of hard to stop a guy who has unlimited range."

The Celtics won Game 2 117-95 in a Garden so hot that vendors could have panfried scrod on the parquet. Bird did panfry Houston with 31 points, 8 re-bounds, 7 assists and—get this—zero fouls. Letting Bird play without a personal foul is like giving Fred Astaire an extra set of taps on his shoes. And the way he put up those numbers was as impressive as the line itself. Early in the second quarter he had given up his dribble deep in the corner, just a step inside the three-point circle. After a defensive switch, Olajuwon covered him. Bird stuck out his arms as if to make one of his familiar two-handed passes, and Olajuwon turned around and headed for the boards. But Bird pulled the ball back, went into his rocker step and stuck the jumper. The resulting tableau suggested a dog taking off in pursuit of a stick that his master only pretended to throw. It was later that evening that Olajuwon (21 points, but only four in the second half) would mention the word "ashamed." And he would also say of Bird, "He's the greatest player I've ever seen."

By then three things were obvious: First, the Rockets' defensive rotation was too slow or simply nonexistent—the Celtics had been able to whip the ball around and get off an open jumper almost at will. Second, Olajuwon needed help to deal with the double-and triple-teaming that made the lane more congested than a fern bar at happy hour on Friday. Third, Sampson's level of play would have to improve. In Game 2 he had 18 points but only three more rebounds than stitches. He received five of the latter when Parish inadvertently elbowed him under the left eye during a stratospheric scramble for a loose ball.