Barnett's tenure with Warriors worth celebrating

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Take a few moments to appreciate Jim Barnett, the Warriors' television analyst, this coming season. It will be his 29th on the job, and his last, before he enters the next phase of his basketball life.

Barnett's contract will expire in the spring, and as he met with team president Rick Welts and marketing executives to discuss the future, there was "mutual agreement," said Barnett, that he join Bob Fitzgerald on the Comcast telecasts for one more season and then move into an ambassador's role with the club, entailing speaking engagements, community functions "and whatever else they'd like me to do."

This development has nothing to do with the quality of Barnett's work, which has been first-rate from the beginning. He has the energy and enthusiasm of a man half his age, with a wealth of NBA knowledge that will be difficult to replace. But he'll turn 70 next July, forcing both parties to take a hard look down the road.

"Nothing lasts forever," Barnett said over a Thursday lunch in San Francisco. "I've had a great run, and I trust this organization. I'll still be at every game, and I'm very happy they want me around."

Barnett's television work dates to the 1985-86 season, when he teamed with Greg Papa - "one of the best guys in the business, an absolute pro and a guy who taught me a lot." He was there for the '87 playoff upset of Utah, the magical "TMC" seasons and a lot of lean years leading up to the epic playoff run in 2007. "I just kind of fell into broadcasting, and it really suited me," he said. "Whatever the team may be doing, to me every game is different, fresh. I still get that charge going into an arena."

Barnett praised the work of Fitzgerald, his partner for 17 years and one of his greatest admirers. "Jim's still an elite broadcaster at the top of his game," Fitzgerald said. "What makes him so great is that he had a long playing career, back in the '60s and '70s, so he's seen every player, every year, every style, and can bring that into context. Yet he completely relates to Steph Curry, Chris Paul, all the current guys. He's absolutely on top of it. And he's a tremendous storyteller. This is a guy with my father's experience and the infectious enthusiasm of my (15-year-old) son."

Jim Barnett (left), and Bill Russell during the unveiling event for the Bill Russell Wall of Champions at McClymonds high school in Oakland California on March 26th 2013. The event also included the unveiling of a newly renovated team room, weight room and aerobics room, in addition to a short practice led by current Warriors players Jarrett Jack and Harrison Barnes. less Jim Barnett (left), and Bill Russell during the unveiling event for the Bill Russell Wall of Champions at McClymonds high school in Oakland California on March 26th 2013. The event also included the unveiling ... more Photo: Sam Wolson, Special To The Chronicle Photo: Sam Wolson, Special To The Chronicle Image 1 of / 3 Caption Close Barnett's tenure with Warriors worth celebrating 1 / 3 Back to Gallery

That enthusiasm came roaring forth during our two-hour lunch date. Barnett's thirst for travel is a product of his upbringing in an Air Force family, living in South Carolina, California, China, Orlando and Georgia before moving to Riverside County for his teenage years and then on to the University of Oregon. He developed into a veritable whirlwind of a basketball player, frenetic in his attack and fearlessly driving the lane against the game's most legendary players.

"I wasn't a great shooter, but I was quick, and I loved taking the ball to the hole," he said. "I could beat guys off the dribble, take two or three steps and I'm at the rim. You remember Terry Teagle? I could get hot like that. Streaky. One night (for Portland) I got 42 points, then the next night I scored two. Defensively, I couldn't stop the great ones - no one could - but I could stay in front of guys. Annoy 'em. Try to throw 'em off their game."

Barnett was drafted by the Boston Celtics as the eighth overall pick in 1966, and teammate John Havlicek called him Crazy Horse, a name that stuck, "because I was running around like a wild man with no idea what I was doing." Later in Barnett's career, Hall of Fame coach Alex Hannum took to calling him "Nutsy."

But the crazy man found his stride, lasting 11 years in the NBA, scoring 18.5 points a game for the 1970-71 Portland Trail Blazers, averaging 21.2 points in the Warriors' 1972 playoff series against defending champion Milwaukee and racking up 8,857 points overall, including five straight years averaging 80 percent or better from the free-throw line.

In a career that took him through Boston, San Diego, Portland, Golden State, New York and Philadelphia from the 1966-67 season through 1977, Barnett became a teammate of Havlicek, Bill Russell, Elvin Hayes, Rick Barry, Nate Thurmond, Pete Maravich, Walt Frazier, Earl Monroe, Bill Bradley and Julius Erving, not to mention Pat Riley and Phil Jackson. He also played with Sihugo Green, Jumpin' Johnny Green, Art "Hambone" Williams, John Q. Trapp, Harthorne Wingo and Joe "Jellybean" Bryant, Kobe's dad. As our conversation progressed, I felt as if I'd dropped in on the history of the league.

He spoke of blocking "three or four shots" by Oscar Robertson, at which point the Big O decided that would never happen again. He recalled being so frustrated by Jerry West's pull-up jumper - "even if you're right in his face" - he finally decided to back eight feet off West and dare him to shoot. ("He missed," Barnett said with a laugh.) He once tried to frustrate the great Chet Walker by picking him up just inside halfcourt and "stepping right in front of him, so he'd run over me. Really pissed him off. Walker never said a word. He raised his forearm under my chin, knocked me off my feet, onto my back and out cold. I had no idea where I was. I got myself together to shoot the technical, but I never stood in front of Chet Walker again."

There were many more stories, some of which I'll fit into NBA columns as the season goes on. But there were a couple of off-the-court episodes that really defined Barnett and the sheer determination that shaped his career.

Thanks to the influence of Celtics executive Red Auerbach, Barnett was able to join the National Guard - a vital alternative in the late 1960s for anyone trying to stay out of Vietnam. "But I didn't go in right away, then I had knee surgery, and there was a point in February '68 where I hadn't gone to a meeting in six months," he said. "All of a sudden, I get this letter telling me that if I didn't join a National Guard unit in California in two weeks, I'd be drafted into the U.S. Army for a two-year stint."

Barnett frantically asked around, placed a few phone calls, without resolution. It was panic time. He decided to drive to the National Guard headquarters in Sacramento and ask for a meeting with the highest-ranking officer. "Went right in and pleaded my case," Barnett said. "The next day, I was in a California unit. Why? Because he saw a human being. Two people, face to face."

What Barnett pulled off two years earlier, at the San Francisco airport, wasn't merely enterprising. It was flat-out astonishing.

It was the summer of '66, Barnett had just flown into Los Angeles from an AAU basketball trip in Europe, and he had two pressing issues: He had to report to the Celtics' camp within five days, and his marriage was on the rocks. He and Sandy had been married during their collegiate days at Oregon, but they'd broken up, and she was living in her hometown of Portland.

"I needed to get up there immediately," he said. "But I flew into L.A. during one of the biggest airline strikes in the history of the country. Thousands of people were just milling around the airport, stranded. I had a ticket to San Francisco, then on to Portland, but there was such a backup, they told me I couldn't get out of L.A. for two days."

In those days, airport security bore no resemblance to the post-9/11 madness. "I had to get on that plane," he said. "I sort of stood off to the side while people were boarding, and as soon as the ticket-taker turned his head, I went behind him and got on the plane. Went straight to the bathroom and locked the door. Probably stayed in there a half-hour, and somehow, nobody came to get me. Now we're out on the tarmac, the plane's taking off, and I'm in the toilet (laughter).

"When I come out of there, I've got no seat. I'm sort of standing around in the back until one of the stewardesses got wise. She wasn't happy. She told me that when we landed in San Francisco, I'd be arrested.

"So we get there, and everyone gets off the plane but me. The maintenance guys had been dropped off by a truck, and they were coming through the back of the plane. I'm thinking, I can either go forward and get arrested or somehow get out of this."

As he looked out the open back door, there was no ladder - only a 15-foot drop onto asphalt. "I threw out my bag and jumped," he said. "Stung the hell out of my feet, but I rolled out of it OK and started running. Nobody else is gonna jump like that - they're gonna have to go through the terminal to catch me. And there were no fences! I ran straight out to the street, hopped in a cab and took it up to the city."

But now what?

"Hitchhike," he said. "I'd done a lot of that in those days. I hitchhiked all night long, all the way to Portland. Got there around 9 or 10 the next morning, saw my wife and saved my marriage. It lasted 30 years."

It's no wonder than when you approach Jim Barnett, you see a man enamored of life, free of stress, thrilled with the here and now. Warriors fans will enjoy another season of his expertise, at which point he'll become a spokesman for the organization, aiming to inspire people with his storytelling and the power of positive thinking. He'll be the right man for the job.