(3 of 6)
This year's team maintains the standard. The Walton gang includes the likes of Dave Meyers, a rangy shooting threat from outside; Marques Johnson, a strong, aggressive freshman forward; Tommy Curtis, a bandy-legged spark plug and ball handler; and Keith ("Silk") Wilkes, a high-scoring forward who may be the second-best college player in the nation. As usual, the bench is overloaded with reserves who could start for most other teams.
Teaching that raw talent to cohere into N.C.A.A. champions is John Wooden's contribution. Since coming to U.C.L.A. 25 years ago, Wooden has won 584 games and lost but 141. Though the straitlaced deacon of the Christian Church looks hopelessly out of sync with today's loose and kinky players, Wooden, 63, gets them to play his brand of basic basketball year after year. The days are past when Wooden would instruct players to wear high-topped black sneakers, but he still concentrates on the proper execution of every move, from dribbling to blocking shots.
Because Walton is the dominant player and personality on the team, Wooden goes out of his way to maintain a good relationship with his center. It has not always been harmonious. "We've had our moments about haircuts and Bill's style of dress on the road," admits Wooden. But each has softened a bit to accommodate the other. During the basketball season, Walton keeps his thick red hair trimmed well above his shoulders. Wooden, for his part, accepts Walton's sandals and jeans, and even excused his star from spending the night before the home game against Notre Dame with the rest of the team in a motel. "I've changed," says Wooden. "The times have changed. You can't be rigid and unyielding." Says Walton: "I don't have blind reverence for authority. People I respect earn my respect. Coach Wooden has earned it."
No Hiding Place. Mutual admiration is easy when the victories keep coming. This year there have been a couple of close calls (against Maryland and U.S.C.), the one-point loss to Notre Dame, and the 61-57 loss to Oregon State. Wooden admits: "We are not as hungry this year as we were the past two years." Walton, whose play was hampered by a back injury in January, rode silently with the Notre Dame loss, though the defeat in South Bend was the first time Walton had been on the losing side in six years of play. Afterward, when he heard that Wooden's wife Nell had been harassed by a group of Notre Dame supporters, Walton said quietly, "It's a shame how some people forget that basketball is just a game."
Walton himself rarely forgets. Few superstars have managed to keep their athletic careers so separate from their personal lives, although the size that serves him so well on the court becomes an attention-getting brand as soon as he steps on the street. "When you're this tall, there's no place to hide," he complains. To be less conspicuous, Walton slouches in chairs until he is eye level with companions and walks close to buildings to camouflage his height. When celebrity hunters do approach, a weak smile crosses Walton's puckish face, and he professes to be just another guy named Bill.