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Some Princetonians were slow to warm up to the idea of Bradley as a professional. But they came around. Bradley came to be known as a former Knick as much as a former Princetonian. March 12: Bradley's Maintaining His Princeton Image There was this fellow, a Princeton chap, who didn't like it much when Bill Bradley came marching home from the playing fields of Oxford to become a crass professional. The proper Princetonian thought no good could possibly come from it.
He said, "You would have to understand what Bill Bill Bradley meant to Princeton to understand what I'm talking about. Bradley was such a great player and a great person at Princeton, he was more than just a basketball player. He created a mystique far beyond basketball. He achieved something close to perfection in his role as a basketball player. Anything he does in the pros cannot possibly match it, and he can only tarnish his image." Bradley, who is aware of such thinking, allowed himself a smile after the exhilaration of the Knickerbockers' 121-101 victory over the Philadelphia 76ers last night. "Was that fellow here?" he asked. If the Princeton man had been at the Garden, he would have found it hard not to get caught up in the adulation for the Knicks in their race-horse conquest of the tough 76ers. The spectators piled crescendo upon crescendo on the Knicks. They did almost everything but break out into a college-boy chorus of:
We eat our beans and rootey toot-toot, Bradley came in for two ovations last night, one in each half. These love-ins are in poignant contrast to the old feeling of Sodom and Gomorrah that prevailed at Knicks games. The hard core of pro spectators-win or lose-was the betting gentry in the loge seats. Their cynical presence fouled the atmosphere. The gamblers are still present, but the emphasis is less on the point spread as it is on the crucial matter of victory or defeat for the home team. This tawdry image of pro basketball is probably what disturbed the Princeton man. To him Bradley's decision to play pro ball was akin to a descent by Jack Armstrong into Hades.
It's not turning out that way. Bradley is finding out what life is all about. He even got himself engaged in a bit of fisticuffs with Terry Dischinger last week. But he maintains his boyish innocence while playing a significant role in the success of this Knicks team. Bradley has this constant hang-up about what people will think of him-his Princeton image if you will-but a real person is beginning to come through. There's even an ingenuous comical quality emerging. At the time of the recent snowstorm, when people were talking about difficulties they encountered, Bradley piped up with, "Yes, they ran out of eggs and lettuce at the store." Then, when somebody remarked about his cooking for himself, he said, "I make a great steak." There's the business about stuffing the ball through the basket. When he went through a stretch of missing easy breakaway lay-ups, he said, "Yes, It's bothering me. I think I'm going to stuff the ball the next time." He had a breakaway last night and it seemed the opportunity to stuff. He didn't stuff. He jumped high and put up a soft lay-up. It was suggested he didn't stuff because the stuff shot is the kind of action that offends his aesthetic sense of the beauty of the game-the kind of thing he talked about when he was at Princeton. "Not so," he said, "There was a Sixer right behind me. To stuff, I would have had to gather myself up to get up high and I would have had to slow down. I'm not that fast. I might have been caught." He said he had stuffed only twice in his career, once in high school and once in college. He said, "I know what you are driving at-the business about a lack of flourishes and the straight line being the shortest distance between two points. But I am not against stuffing. If I were taller, I certainly would stuff the ball." Whether the Princeton man would admit it, the essential thing about Bradley at Princeton is that he was a winner. These days, as a tainted professional, he's got the same thing on his mind. Bradley always has been modest about his basketball talents. He is generally low-key with a self-depractory humor. At a time when too many people are talking and thinking at the top of their voice, Bradley commands respect and comes across as Presidential. At first his political bearing was just this side of boring. He has improved considerably. Marty Glickman, the eminent broadcaster and announcer coach at NBC who knew Bradley from his days at Princeton, once said, "At first, when I heard Bill speak, I might send him a note to make suggestions about how he could improve as a speaker. As time went on, I found him so improved so impressive, I had no need to give him any more tips. Bradley's appealing humor came across in an interview I heard in which he was asked to compare his old Knicks team with the powerhouse Bulls of the time. He said, "I think we match up fairly well in most areas. Let's see. At one guard we have the Bulls'Michael Jordan against the Knicks' Walt Frazier; give that to the Bulls. At the other guard we have the Knicks' Earl Monroe over the Bulls' Johnny Kerr. Give that to the Knicks. I pick the Knicks' Dave DeBusschere over Horace Grant and our Willis Reed over any of three Bulls centers. At the other forward position, the Knicks have me and the Bulls have Scottie Pippin….Help!"
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Bradley Making It -- In His Own Quiet Way 
