Mr. Success: Byron Scott

How do you define a winner? Words and actions work for us! Byron Scott is a man of his word and a man of action. As a player, he had that uncanny ability to do whatever his team needed, whenever his team needed it. As a coach, Scott has been able to convey this quality to his key guys. He sat down with OMNI to talk about his life in basketball. 

Photo caption: Byron Scott, coach of the New Orleans Hornets 

You grew up playing literally in the shadow of the L.A. Forum. How does the neighborhood today compare to what it was in the 1970s? 

Inglewood is a little nicer now than when I was growing up. It was rougher then. Inglewood is between Compton and a couple of other places where you wouldn’t want to get lost. There were gangs and violence and drugs, though it was not as bad as everyone thought it was. To me, in fact, it was great growing up in Inglewood. I had a support system of young guys who were my friends. They thought I had a chance to do something special, so they tried to keep me out of trouble.  

Did your basketball skills accord you special status in that regard? 

It did. Around Inglewood, and even south in Compton and Watts, everybody  knew who I was, so it was almost like a hands-off approach to me. At the time I didn't like that—I didn't want to feel like I was better than any of the guys I hung out with, or anybody else. Now I look back and I see what they were trying to do. It was their way of saying, “You’re the one who’s going to make it out of here, we want you to have that chance, we don’t want anything to happen to you.” I view what they did now as a great honor.  

You gave an awful lot back to kids in Southern California once you made it to the NBA. You held a Challenge for Children All-Star Game that generated millions for local programs. What were some of the experiences you had that compelled you to do this kind of work? 

I've always been big on the idea of helping kids. Coming from a family that had two strong parents and knowing a lot of kids who grew up without a mother or a father, I understood the importance of providing support. The Challenge for Children event actually started when I received a letter from the parents of a child named Marshall, who was fighting cancer. He had been in remission but was now back in the hospital. I went with my wife, my business manager and his wife to visit Marshall, and ended up spending time with every child on that ward. When we got back in the car nobody uttered a word for about ten minutes. We all had tears in our eyes. Finally, I said, “Look we’ve got to do something. We have to create a charity event to support these kids.” We came up with the idea of an all-star basketball game, a celebrity tennis tournament and a black tie and sneakers dinner. It ended up being one of the biggest events in Orange County and raised more than $12 million over the course of about a decade. 

You were a headline-maker at Morningside High School on the basketball court. How many people know you played a pretty mean quarterback?   

Yeah, I did a little bit of that. Our football team was pretty good my junior year. Before my senior year, though, the football coach, Coach Hawk, asked me not to play because he thought my future was in basketball. I also pitched for the baseball team. I can’t explain it, but I was one of those guys who was very blessed as far as athletics were concerned. I could go out and play any sport without a whole lot of teaching.  I would just watch other players do it and was able to pick it up.  

When the college recruiters came around, you had a chance to stay local and attend UCLA. Why did you choose Arizona State? 

The Arizona State assistant coach, Jim Newman, was great. He talked to my parents about the basketball program, but he talked more about the education the school offered. He said that I would not only have an opportunity to learn—the school would make sure I went to class and I did learn. That got my attention. My mother’s, too. After I made my decision she revealed to me that Arizona State was her first choice for me. I guess I understood in high school that if I didn't get my grades right, they could take sports away from me, so as a teenager I told myself that I wasn't going to let that happen. But in terms of taking advantage of educational opportunities, it wasn’t until college that I truly saw the light. 

When you played with Alton Lister and Fat Lever on the Sun Devils, did you see a difference in their talent and attitude that told you they could continue elevating their level of play? 

For sure. Fat Lever wasn’t very flashy, but he did everything well. He played hard, he was a heck of a defender, a good rebounder for his size, a good passer—I knew from day one that he had a chance to make it to the NBA. Alton Lister, with the skills he had at 7-1, I knew he would definitely play in the NBA. Those guys were a big reason I chose Arizona State. 

When did you start to get that “sky’s-the-limit” feeling yourself?  

I began to sense it the first day of practice, when I went against those two guys and realized I was on the same level that they were. If they were projected as NBA players, then I knew I had a shot at it as well. No disrespect to them—I just thought if I was close to them talent-wise, that I would have a chance as long as I continued to work as hard as they did.  

You were the first guard taken in the 1983 NBA Draft, and then you were traded to the Lakers over the summer. Not only were you playing in your hometown, but you were teammates with your favorite player, Bob McAdoo.

I was in heaven! I first met Bob in the locker room before a preseason game. Jerry West introduced me to all the guys—Magic, Kareem, James Worthy, Jamaal Wilkes—but being introduced to Bob McAdoo, and seeing how big he was, what can you say? I was meeting my childhood idol. I remember him smiling and saying, “Welcome to the team.” That was one of the best days of my life. 

From his days in Buffalo, McAdoo had a cloud over him where people said, “He’s not a winner.” But when it’s you and Randy Smith and three guys no one ever heard of, you can only win so many games. What did you see in him as a Laker that defined him as a winner? 

At that point he had all the scoring titles and individual accolades you could have. To him, it was all about a ring. He wanted to win a championship—he didn't care what role he had on the team. He wanted to be a part of something special. When we beat Boston in 1985, I remember him holding that trophy and he said, “Baby B, it took me fourteen years to get one of these. You got one in your second year. You don’t know how blessed you are.” That made a big impression on me. 

How much did you absorb from Pat Riley during your Laker years? He obviously saw something in you as a player that made him think you'd make a fine coach. Did you sense that, too? 

It was something that only he saw. I honestly don’t know where it came from. We were talking one day and he said, “You’ll understand someday when you become a coach.” I looked at him and said, “You’re crazy. I’m never going to become a coach.” I shrugged it off and didn’t give it a second thought. Years later, in Indiana, Larry Brown asked me if I’d ever thought about coaching. I said, “No, not really.” He said, “I really think you would make a good coach.” That’s when I remembered Riley’s words from five or six years earlier, and I kind of stored that in the back of my mind after that.  

What did you find so unappealing about the thought of coaching for a living? 

I don’t know. But I’m glad Brown brought it back up, because at that time I was 32 and was starting to wonder what I would do after my playing career. I had matured a bit and was starting to see that coaching might be the ideal outlet. 

As a player, you were able to see those moments that separated winning and losing, and channel the pressure of those moments into positive actions. As a coach, is that something you can teach?  

I don’t think so. You either have it within you or you don’t. In Los Angeles, we had players who wanted the ball in their hands when the game was on the line—me, Coop, James, Magic, Kareem. We all felt the same way. There have been teams with superstars who didn’t want the ball in their hands at those moments. So no, it is not a skill, it is not something you can teach. As a coach, what you have to do is look inside your players and try to bring that out.  

How do you define that quality, not just in basketball players, but in people? 

You can’t be afraid to fail—that’s a big part of it. In my case, I did not have to be the hero, but I was never afraid to be the goat either. A lot of people like to separate themselves from that situation in basketball and in life. The people I meet outside of basketball who are successful also feel this way. They have the same mentality and attitude toward success and failure as athletes who love to take the big shot.  

With the Lakers and Pacers, you had a string of 12 years where you made the playoffs. Your last season in the NBA, 1995–96, the string was broken after you signed with the Grizzlies. When you look back on that record, obviously it's a team thing, but you must take some personal pride, too. 

Oh, definitely. I always took pride in playing in April and May. It was disappointing going to an expansion team knowing I would not have a chance to extend that run, but my wife put it into perspective when she pointed out that it was the best thing that ever happened to me. In what respect? She said if I never lost as a player, how would I know how to deal with losing as a coach?  

She had a good point. 

I agree. 

You spent your last season as a player in Greece, with Panathinaikos. Your teammates included Dino Radja and OMNI publisher Johnny Branch, and you won the European championship. It’s a great story, but why Europe? 

I had always said to my wife that once my NBA career was over, I’d like to play overseas one year. It was a goal of mine. I wanted to get a feel of what European basketball was like. She had been to Greece and liked it, so she said fine, if you get an offer to play in Greece, take it. And it turned out to be a great experience. Once again, I played on a team that won a championship. You know, if you’re an American player over there and you lose, it’s your fault. But when you win, you come home and your front yard is filled with roses. JB can tell you—when you win over there, they love you to death. 

You were one of basketball's good guys. Can a bad guy be winning player, or do you have to open your heart a little to be part of a championship team? 

That’s an interesting question. You know, there are guys I didn’t like whom I consider to be great, winning players. You don’t have to get along with everyone on your team to play championship basketball, and maybe some of these guys really were jerks. If so, then my answer would be no, you don’t have to have twelve “good guys” on your team to win. What you do have to have, however, is twelve guys who are good teammates.