“I teamed up with Jim Brown to support Muhammad Ali and his decision not to take part in the Vietnam War.”
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Bill Russell knew exactly how he wants to be remembered long after he’s gone.
“If someone asked me to write my epitaph, I would keep it short and simple,” he wrote in his book, Go Up For Glory.
That short and simple epitaph is told in six words: “Bill Russell. He was a man.”
This man, who dedicated his entire life to social justice before taking his last breathe on Sunday at age 88, was the epitome of selflessness. This man, who was strong in every sense of the word, set the stage for generations after him. So they too can stand tall and proudly declare: “No, I will not shut up and dribble.”
This man faced constant roadblocks. But he never turned back, never allowed his enemies to dictate where or when he can fight, speak, thrive or pursue his dream. This man grew wiser and became more motivated despite the odds, finding inspiration from the true champions of his time and keeping faith in the road ahead.
This man, who was inspired by a defiant woman who refused to give up her seat on a bus in 1955, raved about his hero’s courageous act, saying her bravery left a “lifelong impression on me.”
“Rosa Parks, a Black seamstress, was arrested for refusing to give up her seat to a white rider on a public bus in Montgomery, Alabama,” Bill wrote in his book. “A young minister from Atlanta, Martin Luther King, Jr., led a boycott of the Montgomery bus system. For nearly a year, Black people stayed off the buses until a 1956 U.S. Supreme Court decision outlawed segregation on the buses. Over the next few years, sit-ins ended segregation in restaurants and hotels, and Black people who had been denied the right to vote were registered for the first time.”
In that same year of Rosa’s arrest, two white men brutally murdered Emmett Till, accusing him of flirting with a white woman. This horrific tragedy, Bill said, was another one of the defining moments that ignited his desire to fight for justice.
“They beat him severely, gouging out an eye before shooting him in the head and dumping his body into a nearby river,” Bill wrote. “His mother insisted that his casket be open at the funeral, so the whole world could see the brutality of what had been done to her son.”
On June 12, 1963, the NBA legend lost another one of his heroes — Medgar Evers — an American veteran who was shot down down in his driveway in Jackson, Mississippi.
“Despite knowing that his civil rights work could get him killed, Medgar Evers had the courage to keep fighting so that others might live in freedom,” Bill wrote.
Following in Medgar’s path, Bill emerged as a prominent voice for social justice in the 1960s — while at the same time continuing to rack up championship rings on the court.
“I teamed up with Jim Brown to support Muhammad Ali and his decision not to take part in the Vietnam War,” he said. “When I was asked if I had any objections to what John Carlos and Tommie Smith did when they raised their fists in protest at the 1968 Olympics, I said, ‘Just one. I didn’t think of it first.'”
Before the historic March on Washington, Bill said he met with Martin Luther King, Jr. in Atlanta.
“Dr. King asked me to sit on stage with him at a pre-march rally,” he wrote. “I declined, feeling I would be a distraction. I sat in the second row as Dr. King delivered his famous ‘I have a dream’ speech.”
Bill gave thanks to many more fighters, noting trailblazers such as Charlie Evers, Ralph Abernathy, Stokely Carmichael, Jim Brown and Malcolm X. Closer to home, Bill found inspiration from his grandfather Jake, a Louisiana sharecropper who once told his landlord that he would not farm the area again.
“Nigger, don’t tell me what you ain’t gonna do,” the farmer replied before threatening to bring the KKK.
“Several cars pulled up that night and began to empty just before Jake fired his shotgun into the darkness,” Bill wrote. “The men piled back into their cars and drove away. Jake never heard from the white farmer again.”
Growing up in Oakland, Bill treasured his library card. The library, he said, is where he “began to develop his own ideas about race.”
Fueled by knowledge and inspiration, Bill prepared for the challenges he would encounter as a basketball star in Boston — a place he once labeled as “the most racist city in America.”
Boston, Bill said, was undergoing a racial transformation when he arrived in 1956, “primarily because of a large influx of Black people from the South.”
“The Black community suffered from inferior schools, overcrowded homes and limited economic opportunities,” Bill said.
Referring back to one racist incident, Bill said “hundreds of white demonstrators pelted a caravan of twenty school buses carrying students from nearly all-Black Roxbury to all-white South Boston.”
The next day, the Celtics star led a meeting with a group of Black students and their parents who gathered in the basement of a Catholic church.
“We were going to meet in a high school auditorium but the school board turned us down,” Bill told the group.
“An atmosphere of hate, distrust and ignorance has infested our city,” he continued. “I lament every dilapidated, antiquated, rat-infested firetrap of a school in Roxbury. There’s a fire here in Roxbury and nobody is listening and the fire that consumes Roxbury will consume Boston.”
Some of the students, Bill said, “rode to school the next day with me in the driver’s seat.”
In today’s world, we see Black athletes being told to “stick to sports.” We see them cheered when they break records and bring championships, but otherwise chastised if they dare to become more than an athlete. This was Bill’s experience as well.
“Many of the same people who cheered me at Boston Garden reacted in horror when I tried to purchase a home in the all-white suburb of Reading,” the Celtics star said. “My wife, Rose, came home in tears as she watched residents sign a petition against the sale.”
When Bill joined the Celtics in 1956, there were only 15 Black players in the league. At that time, NBA owners such as Philadelphia’s Eddie Gottlieb were hoping to limit the number of Black players.
“The majority of our fans are white. How long do you think they’ll pay good money to watch colored players take over our game?” Gottlieb said, also suggesting that each team should be limited to two Black players.
Legendary coach Red Auerbach, along with Celtics owner Walter Brown, walked out of the meeting after hearing Gottlieb’s comments, Bill said.
Gottlieb and some others may be rolling in their grave if they see the NBA’s demographics today. They may be fuming even more if they see Black athletes who are more than an athlete. But Bill…he can rest in peace. Because Bill made the world a better place.
That was Bill Russell. He was a man.
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