<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
8601240606
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
860530
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Friday, May 30, 1986
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL CHASER
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1D
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1986, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
ROCKETS' HUMAN SACRIFICE ACCEPTS BIRD'S CHALLENGE
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
BOSTON -- He is the kid with his finger in the dike. The fisherman who
hooks a great white shark. The prince with a slingshot who rides off to slay
the giant.

  He is the man who must cover Larry  Bird.

  "What do you do to stop him?" someone asked Houston's Rodney McCray.
  "I do my best," he said, shrugging.
  What else can you ask for? What else can you do? How do you stop the top
basketball  player on the planet? How do you keep the ball from arcing into
the basket, or banking in off the glass, or whipping into another Celtic's
fingertips for an easy lay-up -- as it has done unceasingly  in the first two
games of this NBA championship series? How do you  stop a guy who can score
with your hands, your teeth, and your bad breath in his face?
  "Does he have any weaknesses?" McCray was  asked. "Anything you can
exploit?"
  "None that I've seen," he said.
  "How do you stop his assists?"
  "You hope the guy who gets the ball misses the shot," he said.
  This was Wednesday, 
  a day before the Celtics would beat the Rockets for a 2-0 lead in the
series. Bird would lead the way again, throwing in baskets from everywhere,
firing pinpoint passes, scoring 31 points. He was  magnificent. What can one
man do?
  "Can you box him out?" someone asked.
  "It's hard," he said, "because he's always moving. He's in one place,  then
he's gone."
  "Did he take it to you?"
  "He takes it to everybody," McCray said.
  "He such a good scorer and passer," a TV man asked, "yet what about him is
overrated?"
  "Nothing is overrated," McCray said.
No choice to make  What  did he feel like during these questions? What could
he feel like? Like a budding novelist sent to debate Norman Mailer. Like a
iron worker asked to paint the Brooklyn  Bridge. Solo. Everyone figured
McCray's job was impossible. If he held Bird to 20 points, five rebounds and
five assists he'd be doing great, right?
  McCray sees it another way. He guarded Denver's Alex English in the second
round  of the playoffs. And James Worthy in the Western  Conference final
against the Lakers. He had no choice then. He has no choice now. He is the
small forward, so is Bird. No choice.
  "What makes him  so tough?" someone asked. 
  "You can't figure out one or two things and stop him," McCray said. "He
just does something else. He hurts you so many ways."
  "How does guarding him compare to guarding  English and Worthy?"
  "They both add up to a Larry Bird," he said.
  In this  series, Bird's job is more glamorous: shoot, score, rebound, pass.
The juicy stuff. McCray gets the peel: defend, get  in the way, box out. And
then, if you can, do the other things.
  Insiders know that McCray, 6-feet-8,  and Bird, 6-feet-9, are more similar
than people realize. Both specialize in the nooks and crannies  of the game,
the intelligent maneuvers, the defensive tricks.  But Bird has the numbers
people notice (25.8 points, 9.8 rebounds), while McCray (10.3  points, 6.3
rebounds) must depend on the finely  trained eye for appreciation.
  "Does it bother you that Bird gets so much more attention?" someone asked.
  "Not if we win," McCray said.
Go for the challenge  Larry Bird in motion is simply awesome.
Three-pointers are tossed in like apples to a barrel, drives come from the
left or the right, no air space is safe from a pass. He has, at some point,
embarrassed every player who  guarded  him. He did it to McCray Thursday night
in the Celtics' 117-95  victory.
  "If you did have a choice," someone asked McCray, "to guard Bird or someone
else, what would you choose?"
  "Bird," he said,  "for the challenge. If you do a good job on him and you
win the series, you can feel confident about your defensive capabilities.
  "And if he scores a lot of points on you, hey, he scored that many  points
on a lot of other people,  too. He's the best player in the league. It's a
challenge just to see what you can do against him."
  So on he goes, to Game 3. He is Michelangelo with a ceiling to  finish, the
bricklayer sent to build a pyramid, the quiet guy who pays a dollar to get
into the ring with the carnival strongman.
  If this series ends quickly, it will likely be because Bird proved
unstoppable -- too sharp, too deadly, too great. But if it goes six or seven
games, it will mean McCray is absorbing the best of the best player on the
planet. A lot of it. 
  "What do you predict?"  he was asked.
  "Don't know," said the man  with the dirty job that somebody has to do.
But either way, I am going to need some serious rest when this is over."
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<DISCLAIMER>

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