Learning to Act With the NBA Greats

PHOENIX.  It's All-Star Weekend, and I've come here with Father William Kilkenny and the boys of St. Brigid's CYO Bombers all the way from Brighton, Mass. as part of the NBA's outreach to underrepresented minorities--Irish-Americans--for a weekend of fun, hoops and intense instruction in the basics of basketball acting.

Tommy Heinsohn, Boston Celtics great, practicing the "set shot", Irish-American hoop innovation.

"Can we have some water?" little Devan Colclough, my scrappy point guard, asks the priest, who will attend a break-out session with Dallas Mavericks owner Mark Cuban on "Intimidating Your Opposing Pastor Through Emotional Outbursts."  We've come here on a shoestring budget, funded by collections the kids have wrung from reluctant motorists by "canning" cars stopped at red lights along high-speed Nonantum Road, begging them to drop the coins from their change caddies into coffee cans.

"We finished the bottle back in New Mexico," the outwardly stern but inwardly gruff priest says.  "Going without water will be good training for when you burn in hell until the end of time."

I tousle Devan's hair as we get out of the van.  "Don't worry--there'll be plenty of allegedly healthy sports drinks inside," I say as we head into U.S. Airways Arena to meet some of basketball's greatest actors.

Wallace:  "I wasn't even in the building!"

"Wow," Timmy Hogan says as he spies Rasheed Wallace, who is conducting a master class on Simulated Outrage.  Wallace is a proponent of the "method" acting techniques developed by Konstantin Stanislavski, who treated basketball drama as a serious endeavour that required dedication, discipline and an almost fanatical belief in one's perpetual innocence.

Konstantin Stanislavski:  "After you throw an elbow, you must will yourself to believe that it is not attached to your arm!" 

"You guys need to believe in what you're doing," Wallace is saying, his face contorted into his trademark expression of anguish.  "When a ref calls a ticky-tacky foul on you for clothes-lining a point guard driving the lane, you have to persuade him, a national TV audience and your own bad self that you weren't even in the building when the guy broke his own nose."

Isiah Thomas questions a Leon Wood call:  "Are you watching the game in Braille?"

We move on to a session in progress that features Boston Celtics coach Doc Rivers and 2008 NBA Finals MVP Paul Pierce, who are holding forth on "Dramatic Duos: Working the Refs From the Bench and the Floor."  "An apparently unflappable coach who saves his explosions for just the right moment will have a greater impact than somebody who blows like a teakettle the whole game," Rivers says, drawing a pointed contrast with Rick Pitino, his unsuccessful predecessor.

Pitino:  "A foul--my kingdom for a foul!"

A hush falls over the crowd as a tall white man joins Wallace's session.  "See that guy over there," I say to Marty O'Brien, a 5'2" low-post prospect I've been working with after school.  "That's the greatest actor in NBA history."

Bill Laimbeer, the Greatest of All Time

"Now I want to introduce a very special guest," Wallace says as the guest's face takes on a look of bogus humility.  "Four-time NBA All-Star, two-time NBA Champion--Bill Laimbeer."

Scarlett O'Hara:  "As God is my witness . . ."

"Thanks, Rasheed," Laimbeer says with a self-effacing tone.  "You know," he begins, "I got a lot of criticism in my career for being a lousy actor."  The kids are all ears, especially Brendan O'Shea, whose ears stick out like taxi cab doors.

Brendan O'Shea

"Johnny Most used to call me 'Stanisflopski'," Laimbeer recalls bitterly, referring to the Celtics' broadcaster who covered the team's fierce Eastern Conference rivalry with the "Bad Boy" Pistons of the '80's and 90's.  "I took my art seriously, and today I'm going to lead you through a dramatic interpretation that will help you get in touch with your inner rage--the scene from 'Gone With the Wind' in which Scarlett O'Hara curses the Yankees in the garden of Tara."

Laimbeer composes himself, and a hush falls over the room.  Suddenly his face becomes contorted, his hands slap his head, and he falls to his knees, tears welling up in his eyes.  "As God is my witness," he moans, "I don't even know Larry Bird!"