In 1949, Ogden Nash penned his famous poem “Line-up for Yesterday” for Sport magazine. In it, he recalled baseball greats of the past in alphabetical order. I find the poem’s enduring cultural value rather puzzling. I am strictly a reader and writer of prose, but I know doggerel when I see it, and much of what Nash wrote was just that. To make matters worse, he inserted himself into the poem in the letter “I” since he was such a fan of the game. His “Q” entry was Don Quixote, which somehow morphed into Connie Mack. (I admit, I had to reach to find a player whose name started with “Q”; see below.)
I have borrowed—or should I say stolen—Nash’s title, format and A-B-C-B rhyme scheme, and employed them with a different sport: basketball. I herewith offer my respects to 26 hardcourt greats, men who coached and played the game with the utmost skill.
A is for the towering Alcindor
Later known as Abdul-Jabbar,
With 38,000 points for the Bucks and Lakers,
He is the top scorer by far.
B is for Barry
Early sustainer of the ABA,
Despite a prickly personality,
His teams always found a way.
C is for Chamberlain,
The indefatigable Wilt,
Who hit triple digits one night in ’62,
A mark for which he felt no guilt.
D is for Drexler
A.k.a. Clyde the Glide,
His dunks were so fierce,
Grown men would run and hide.
E is for Erving,
In the bloom of Doc’s youth,
Red, white and blue ball in his hands,
Brother, could he ever bring the truth.
F is for the silky-smooth Frazier,
Won the ’67 NIT as an SIU Saluki,
At Madison Square Garden,
His game was downright spooky.
G is for Gaines,
The one and only Big House,
Won 800 games at Winston-Salem,
Was never mistaken for a mouse.
H is for Hawkins,
How the majestic Hawk could sky!
Unjustly expelled from the U. of Iowa,
He made amends in the by-and-by.
I is for the toothless Issel,
Starred for the Baron at UK,
More of the same for the Colonels and Nuggets,
Down in the paint he made them pay.
J is for Jordan,
Simply the greatest of all time,
Carried the Bulls to six titles,
And did it in a style most sublime.
K is for Knight,
Now with a head full of gray hairs,
As well known for coaching hoops,
As for throwing chairs.
L is for Lemon,
Made the Washington Generals cry,
Had a great handle for the ball,
But in the NBA that stuff just wouldn’t fly.
M is for the lithe Maravich,
He never won a ring,
Despite a gaudy forty-four PPG in college,
In the pros, same thing.
N is for Naismith,
The game’s founder in 1891,
Cut the bottom from the peach basket,
And in the process, multiplied the fun.
O is for Oscar (Robertson),
Averaged a triple-double in one season,
Got a long-delayed championship in Milwaukee,
Fans there thought it mighty pleasin’.
P is for Pettit,
Gentleman from down Baton Rouge way,
Won it all in ’58 with Hagan, Macauley and Martin,
Could probably still play today.
Q is for Quick,
Mississippi native drafted high by Baltimore,
Kicked around for a few years,
If only he’d learned how to score.
R is for the lanky Russell,
He of the green and white,
Secured the trophy 11 out of 13 seasons,
His defense was airtight.
S is for Shaq (O’Neal),
Opponents had to stay on their toes,
He could slam, he could jam,
But oh my goodness, those free throws!
T is for Taylor,
Creator of Converse All-Stars,
Perpetually enthusiastic about the game,
Should have written his memoirs.
U is for Unseld,
Nobody threw an outlet pass like him,
Won it all with the Bullets in ’78,
Had a lousy record as coach and GM.
V is for Van Lier,
Called “Stormin’ Norman” for good reason,
Tenacious, aggressive and combative,
The fires had gone out after his 10th season.
W is for the stately Wooden,
All-America guard at Purdue in the 1930s,
Took UCLA to basketball valhalla,
Never got down and dirty.
X is for Xavier (McDaniel),
Strong finisher on Seattle’s fast break,
Also adept as a rebounder,
Sure could shake and bake.
Y is for Young,
Freewheeling and verbose,
Member of UH’s Phi Slama Jama,
A washout in the pros.
Z is for Zaslofsky,
Jewish master of the two-handed set shot,
Among the NBA’s founding fathers,
Tough to handle when he was hot.
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