What You Didn't Read in "A Conversation With Bob Cousy"
In December 2008, I published "A Conversation With Bob Cousy" on Hoops Addict. Here are portions of my interview with "Mr. Basketball" that did not appear in the original article.
Amy O'Loughlin: In your book, Basketball Is My Life (1957), you tell the story of the State Department good will tour of Europe that you and Red Auerbach took in May 1957. You talk about meeting your older half-sister, Blanche, from your father's first marriage, who lived in Nice. You discovered "where some of [your] athletic ability came from" when you learned that she played on France's national women's championship basketball team. That must have been quite a surprising thing to learn.
Bob Cousy: She was a national cyclist. For the Resistance she ran the underground during [World War II]. She managed a hotel in Nice. She had a physiotherapy degree. She was an amazing lady and she had great drive . . . . And, yes. Her athletic ability was something. Neither my mother nor my father were athletic in any way, so I have no idea where our talent came from.
O'Loughlin: Did you know this before you met her?
Cousy: I don't remember when I became aware of it, but I think it was during that period. As I said earlier, [our family] had a dysfunctional situation. I had [intended] to meet her in Rome during one of my trips, but I got sick in Iraq, to the point of near death. The conditions were so bad. I lost twenty pounds in a month. It was bad stuff. I couldn’t meet her because I had to cancel the rest of the trip. I worked through Senator Kennedy's office [to bring her to this country]. She had gotten divorced and [her ex-husband] had her child. She didn’t get along at all with my mother. I told her: I'll get you over here. I'll get you set up in an apartment near [my parents], but you can't live with them. You can have communication and contact, and she understood given the situation with my mother. But then when she got here, my father one day —he was a funny little guy and he never said much at all—he went out for a loaf of bread and never came home for ten years! He went off and lived with his daughter. Don't get me wrong; I loved my mother, but she and my father [ran] a dysfunctional household. My mother was an intense, demonstrative, very competitive French lady, who hated the Germans with a passion. My father was born in Alsace-Lorraine, which at the time was German. He was completely apolitical. He couldn’t have cared less. But, when he was eighteen, he got conscripted in the first word war and fought with the Germans. A few years later, he remarries. He marries my mother, and thankfully they come here. The Second World War breaks out and we're getting all this terrible news about those "dirty Germans." And my mother's taking it out on my poor father. He was a nice, nice man. He wouldn’t say a word; he just worked and worked . . . . So, I could understand why my father would [want to leave the house]. I was determined that this would never happen [in my marriage]. My bride and I have been together for fifty-eight years and we've never had a household like that. Anyway, my sister died before my father did. She had ovarian cancer. But she took great care of him [when he fell ill]. They bought an old trailer and lived on a farm first in Riverhead, New York, and then in New Jersey. She died prematurely. I was coaching at the time [for the Cincinnati Royals] and I was in Los Angeles when I got the message. I flew back and went out to Riverhead. [My father] had had a stroke and he didn’t realize what had happened with his daughter. We took him with us to Cincinnati. My mother used to call, and I'd play cupid. He'd say, "Who was that?" I'd say to him, "That was your wife. All she did was ask about you and how you're doing." "Oh, no she didn't," he'd say. I'd tell him, "No, really. Yes, yes. She did. That's all she could talk about, and she misses you terribly." "No, she didn’t say that." And then, I'd do the same thing to my mother. I'd tell her that all my father does is talk about her and say how much he misses her. We were driving back [to Worcester]—our daughter was finishing high school in Cincinn, so my wife stayed behind—but my father was with me. I had it all arranged: we were going to stop in New York for dinner, and then continue on here. So, we stopped at the house. My father walks in. My mother was at the stove—my mother was a great cook—and my father looks over her shoulder and says: "W hat are we having for dinner?" It was the first time he saw her in ten years and the first thing he said to her since he went out for the bread! It broke me up. I thought it was a great line! Anyway, we have dinner and I'm looking at my watch because it's eight o'clock and I've still got a three-and-a-half-hour drive to make —and I look over and I see them sitting there holding hands. My father says, "Get the bags." He moves back in, and it's like a second honeymoon. That lasted about three weeks.
Bob Cousy: She was a national cyclist. For the Resistance she ran the underground during [World War II]. She managed a hotel in Nice. She had a physiotherapy degree. She was an amazing lady and she had great drive . . . . And, yes. Her athletic ability was something. Neither my mother nor my father were athletic in any way, so I have no idea where our talent came from.
O'Loughlin: Did you know this before you met her?
Cousy: I don't remember when I became aware of it, but I think it was during that period. As I said earlier, [our family] had a dysfunctional situation. I had [intended] to meet her in Rome during one of my trips, but I got sick in Iraq, to the point of near death. The conditions were so bad. I lost twenty pounds in a month. It was bad stuff. I couldn’t meet her because I had to cancel the rest of the trip. I worked through Senator Kennedy's office [to bring her to this country]. She had gotten divorced and [her ex-husband] had her child. She didn’t get along at all with my mother. I told her: I'll get you over here. I'll get you set up in an apartment near [my parents], but you can't live with them. You can have communication and contact, and she understood given the situation with my mother. But then when she got here, my father one day —he was a funny little guy and he never said much at all—he went out for a loaf of bread and never came home for ten years! He went off and lived with his daughter. Don't get me wrong; I loved my mother, but she and my father [ran] a dysfunctional household. My mother was an intense, demonstrative, very competitive French lady, who hated the Germans with a passion. My father was born in Alsace-Lorraine, which at the time was German. He was completely apolitical. He couldn’t have cared less. But, when he was eighteen, he got conscripted in the first word war and fought with the Germans. A few years later, he remarries. He marries my mother, and thankfully they come here. The Second World War breaks out and we're getting all this terrible news about those "dirty Germans." And my mother's taking it out on my poor father. He was a nice, nice man. He wouldn’t say a word; he just worked and worked . . . . So, I could understand why my father would [want to leave the house]. I was determined that this would never happen [in my marriage]. My bride and I have been together for fifty-eight years and we've never had a household like that. Anyway, my sister died before my father did. She had ovarian cancer. But she took great care of him [when he fell ill]. They bought an old trailer and lived on a farm first in Riverhead, New York, and then in New Jersey. She died prematurely. I was coaching at the time [for the Cincinnati Royals] and I was in Los Angeles when I got the message. I flew back and went out to Riverhead. [My father] had had a stroke and he didn’t realize what had happened with his daughter. We took him with us to Cincinnati. My mother used to call, and I'd play cupid. He'd say, "Who was that?" I'd say to him, "That was your wife. All she did was ask about you and how you're doing." "Oh, no she didn't," he'd say. I'd tell him, "No, really. Yes, yes. She did. That's all she could talk about, and she misses you terribly." "No, she didn’t say that." And then, I'd do the same thing to my mother. I'd tell her that all my father does is talk about her and say how much he misses her. We were driving back [to Worcester]—our daughter was finishing high school in Cincinn, so my wife stayed behind—but my father was with me. I had it all arranged: we were going to stop in New York for dinner, and then continue on here. So, we stopped at the house. My father walks in. My mother was at the stove—my mother was a great cook—and my father looks over her shoulder and says: "W hat are we having for dinner?" It was the first time he saw her in ten years and the first thing he said to her since he went out for the bread! It broke me up. I thought it was a great line! Anyway, we have dinner and I'm looking at my watch because it's eight o'clock and I've still got a three-and-a-half-hour drive to make —and I look over and I see them sitting there holding hands. My father says, "Get the bags." He moves back in, and it's like a second honeymoon. That lasted about three weeks.
O'Loughlin: What do you think of Barack Obama?
Cousy: I may vote for him, even though I've been in McCain's corner for a while. Yet for two or three or four years I've been saying I know McCain doesn’t have a chance. But, in my mind, McCain's the only guy talking without a forked tongue and telling it like it is. For years, he's taken unpopular positions and disregarded the voters in terms of what might help him or not. He had gone against [President] Bush; now, he's becoming more conciliatory. I'm sure everybody is telling him that he's got to move closer to the middle. They're saying he's a flip-flop, but they're saying the same thing about Obama. That "flip-flopping" has a negative connotation. But, Geez, I think I'd want our leader to be a flip-flopper, because conditions are constantly evolving and changing. It seems to me [having flexibility] is a plus rather than a negative. Given my feelings about Civil Rights in this country . . . before I die I'd love to see a black president just as I would a female president. Men have screwed this world up for hundreds and hundreds of years. Let's give the ladies a shot at it. . . . I think I'll probably go for Obama. In terms of worldwide relations, the world would not believe that we would vote and elect a black president.
I do have to say that in my judgment we don't shine very often. But, we do shine when we're dealing with adversity or handicaps. This is what brings out the best of us, I think. I've seen it so often. The rest of the time we should be ashamed of ourselves. When people are dealing with hardships, it often makes them determined to overcome and all the good instincts—the best of what we have to offer—comes to the fore. If you're tested, you can rise above.
Cousy: I may vote for him, even though I've been in McCain's corner for a while. Yet for two or three or four years I've been saying I know McCain doesn’t have a chance. But, in my mind, McCain's the only guy talking without a forked tongue and telling it like it is. For years, he's taken unpopular positions and disregarded the voters in terms of what might help him or not. He had gone against [President] Bush; now, he's becoming more conciliatory. I'm sure everybody is telling him that he's got to move closer to the middle. They're saying he's a flip-flop, but they're saying the same thing about Obama. That "flip-flopping" has a negative connotation. But, Geez, I think I'd want our leader to be a flip-flopper, because conditions are constantly evolving and changing. It seems to me [having flexibility] is a plus rather than a negative. Given my feelings about Civil Rights in this country . . . before I die I'd love to see a black president just as I would a female president. Men have screwed this world up for hundreds and hundreds of years. Let's give the ladies a shot at it. . . . I think I'll probably go for Obama. In terms of worldwide relations, the world would not believe that we would vote and elect a black president.
I do have to say that in my judgment we don't shine very often. But, we do shine when we're dealing with adversity or handicaps. This is what brings out the best of us, I think. I've seen it so often. The rest of the time we should be ashamed of ourselves. When people are dealing with hardships, it often makes them determined to overcome and all the good instincts—the best of what we have to offer—comes to the fore. If you're tested, you can rise above.
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