Aspiring To Higher Things

"Hubie and [present Hawks coach] Kevin Loughery are different types," McMillen says. "Hubie would analyze and refine the game. Kevin looks at certain factors in a game and draws conclusions. Both are successful, but Hubie played by rote and Kevin by ear."

When McMillen came to the NBA he knew he was going to have to improve his game to have a rewarding career. "I never was quick and wasn't a very good jumper," he says. "Besides having the white man's disease [inability to levitate], I have terrible feet. They've always given me trouble.

"There wasn't much I could do about that, but I could do something about being weak-which I was-and about my defense. I lifted weights. I watched people play defense, thought about it, practiced it. And I kept working on my shot, as I always have."

The Hawks are in the Valley of the Sun on a gray winter day when a raw wind blowing down from the Mogollon Rim makes Phoenix look and feel like Harris-burg, Pa. with sooty cactus. The team and the place have both seen better days. Two of the bigger Hawks are down and out because of injuries. The biggest one-of such a size that he is called Tree-is hobbling on recently surgically scarred wheels. Phoenix is the second stop on a six-game Western trip, and the Hawks have come to the Valley with a seven-game losing streak.

Under the best of circumstances, the Hawks are only a respectable team. Their specialty is defense. They lead the NBA in this category, which has kept them in contention for a playoff berth this season despite manifold injuries. And it's defense that they're working on in a Phoenix gym at midday. While Tree Rollins nurses his limbs on the sidelines, five Hawks run Phoenix plays and the other five play defense. The patterns are complex, 10 men responding quickly to five basic plays, each of which have three or four variations.

McMillen is conspicuous, the tallest Hawk still firmly on his feet, and the only white one, a grayish piece of chalk in a bundle of charcoal sticks. But he isn't conspicuous because he's a Rhodes scholar or Phi Beta Kappa, behaving more intelligently than others. He is struggling with the free-form choreography, panting and sweating, perhaps a little busier than some who are more agile then he is.

"Tom still has his shot, but he's probably more important to us because of his versatility and defense," says Hawk Assistant Coach Mike Fratello. "He's great at keeping the ball away from people. He had one of the best defensive games I've ever seen in the playoffs, against Washington's Elvin Hayes [in 1979]. Everybody in the NBA has talent, but some of those have come and gone. Defense is something you learn by working at it."

Fred Carter is a Hawk assistant coach still young enough to play a few minutes at a time. Therefore, he is the coach who goes one on one with the troops for instructional purposes. "They warned me that Tommy Mac was dangerous," says Carter, who was known as Mad Dog when he played for the Bullets, 76ers and Bucks. "They were right. I think he's knocked six people out of practices this year. We call him Slaprock. He's not a thug out to hurt people; it's just his game—leaning, pushing. I don't think there has ever been a man with sharper elbows, even with the pads he wears."

After an evening spent mostly with and on Slaprock, Alvan Adams, who averages 15 points a game for the Suns, has only 11 points. He is sprawled on a locker-room bench. "Tom is always working on you," he says. "I had a shot in the second half. I thought I was open by 15 feet, and all of a sudden he got there, those elbows going. Tough ballplayer."

Adams is gracious, but McMillen has had a mediocre night, with only four points and five rebounds as the Hawks lost 94-90. To make matters worse, early in the game he came down the wrong way on one of his bad feet. He limped moderately until the third quarter and more noticeably thereafter, after falling hard on his left knee. He didn't come out, because there is no one to replace him, and on the trainer's table the knee is stiff, swollen and painful. McMillen grimaces as a local physician probes at and twists it. "No boogying tonight, Tom," the medic says jovially. "In fact, a week or so off might be a good thing. Go home and have them take a look."