Michael Cooper knew pressure. The NBA’s 1987 Defensive Player of the Year had won five rings with the 1980s Showtime Lakers, blocking shots alongside Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and finishing “Coop-a-loop” passes from Magic Johnson for dunks. But in 2000, things were different. He wasn’t in the game, he was coaching it from the sidelines for the WNBA’s Los Angeles Sparks. And despite Cooper being named coach of the year, the Sparks fell short in the playoffs to the Houston Comets.
“When we lost that,” Cooper says, “people said, ‘Coop, you’re supposed to be this great coach. And you can’t get the Sparks over the hump.’” It was hard to swallow. When most people come up short at work, the world doesn’t know about it – or debate it on live television. “With fame comes consequences,” says Cooper. “You have to take the good and the bad.”
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Cooper, who was inducted into the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame last summer, has an interesting relationship with fame. Though he was on the Showtime Lakers, he never quite felt famous in the 1980s. He wasn’t a big-name college player when he came out of the University New Mexico and his rise in the public consciousness was a slow burn. Cooper became the Laker’s premiere sixth man, coming off the bench, sublimating his ego for the sake of wins.
“I felt famous,” Cooper says. “But I felt famous as a team. The team was very good, and people appreciated that. When I was walking down the street, if people knew basketball, they knew who I was. But they didn’t see me as an individual [star] – it was more the team.”
Others on the Lakers, though, got major attention. Particularly Johnson. If LA lost, Magic would take the blame. Cooper was able to avoid the worst criticism because he wasn’t one of the big stars. He remembers the 1981 playoffs when LA lost to the Rockets. Johnson took a bad last shot and the Lakers lost out on a chance to repeat as champions.
“The media talked about that all summer,” Cooper says. “For me, I had the luxury – I was able to receive credit when I did great things, and I was able to hide when I didn’t do great things.” That was not the case, though, when he was hired by the Sparks. “But all that changes when you become a coach,” he says. “Coaching – you can’t hide.”
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On the court, Kenny Anderson never hid. Ever since he was at middle school in New York City, people have been writing about the point guard. “Oh my god!” Anderson days. “Thirteen years old! I’ve been getting press, media since I was 13! I grew up in it. I was good with it.” Anderson, who was a star at a young age in the city that loves its floor generals, says he was able to succeed thanks to those who looked out for him. “I had great mentors,” he says.
Anderson, who was raised by his mother, Joan, says he looked to the family of another New York City prodigy, Kenny Smith, as an example. Smith, who is five years older than Anderson, was also a point guard. An All-American, Smith succeeded in the city’s pressure-packed scene and went on to star at the University of North Carolina and make the NBA. It was Smith’s family, along with several other coaches and local figures, who helped show the future Georgia Tech star and No 2 pick what to do.
“His family was very important to me,” Anderson says. “I saw how he was growing up, saw how he was raised.”
When Anderson was a teenager, every newspaper in New York wrote about him – from the Times to the Daily News. They chronicled each game, seemingly every pass and shot. They debated where he would go to college and what his pro chances were. Anything and everything they could find to write about was fair game. Somehow, it never became too much pressure for Anderson, who would eventually become an All-Star with the New Jersey Nets. For others – even pros – it’s not that easy.
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“I was a humble kid,” Anderson says. “A humble young man, that’s just how I grew up. I had a great life.”
Still, no childhood can prepare anyone for what NBA life is like. Not only are your best days lauded but your mistakes are picked over and your salary is discussed on television. “That was crazy,” Anderson says. “The salary and all the things that happen with your money. That was difficult at times. I didn’t know they were able to do that. Woah! But it is what it is. I was easygoing. I moved on.”
Salary is one thing – but what if fans start to follow you? For Robert Parish, a four-time NBA champion and Hall of Famer, life as a 7ft 1in basketball star had its ups and downs. People started at him because of his height, even without his fame. How did he handle the scrutiny? “That depends on how aggressive people are,” Parish says. “I still think it’s flattering and it’s a compliment that people recognize me and what I accomplished … [but] sometimes people get a little pushy.”
Parish says even in retirement people will still see him on the street and all but move his longtime partner, Esther, out of the way so they can speak to him. “I don’t like that,” Parish says. During his playing days, Parish says people would trail him around. “People have followed me home, followed me to the game, followed me to the airport. I didn’t feel threatened. I just thought they were taking it too far – it’s not that serious!”
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For Cooper, who earlier this year led his Miami 305 team to the Big3 championship, one of the beauties of working in sports – beyond the recognition – is that there is almost always another game just around the corner. “There is always a chance to make up for your losses,” Cooper says. “You lose a game one night, you can come back and score 30 and people will forget.”
He experienced that up close with the Sparks. After losing in 2000 to the Comets and seeing them with the title again, Cooper heard the complaints from fans. Despite his Showtime Laker pedigree, he didn’t get his team to the promised land, even with one of basketball’s all-time greats, Lisa Leslie, on the Sparks. Cooper took the criticism to heart, but he didn’t ever let it break him.
“It made me a better coach the following season,” Cooper explains. “I got back to the drawing board. The next year, we were able to break the stranglehold Houston had.” Indeed, in 2001, the Sparks won their first WNBA title. Cooper and company could celebrate at last. “People said, ‘Wow, I guess you can coach! I guess you do know what you’re doing’” Cooper says, with his trademark chortle. (The Sparks won their second title the following season.)
But few in pro hoops have won as many games as Cooper in their careers. Anderson, whose 90s New Jersey Nets team didn’t always rise to the level of expectations set for them, knows that. “I got negative attention,” he says. “It was all based on what I said and what I did. It was fair – hey, that’s just how the ball bounces. I understood that because I was a public figure I had to watch what I said and did. If I didn’t, it was coming back [on me].”
Not everyone, Anderson notes, is able to handle that kind of weight.
“I was built different,” he says. “I was able to overcome that because of the growth [from] the people that raised me.”
