Walt Frazier The NBA legend and style maven holds court

You’ve always been a style icon. When did you become interested in fashion?
I always liked fashion, even in high school, but I never had the money to do it consistently. I had some nice outfits, and some of my buddies would loan me some fancy shoes or a nice sweater. When I went off to college, it was a similar scenario. Our coach was a sharp dresser. By then, I had the button down shirts, the penny loafers. And I would buy clothes at Brooks Brothers—suits, pullover sweaters. Then I came to the mecca, New York City, and that’s where Clyde was born.

Why did you choose Southern Illinois as your college?
Originally, I wanted to go to Tennessee State. That’s where Dick Barnett went, who would later be my teammate. My mother wanted me to go to an integrated school. A friend of the family helped get me to Southern Illinois, where I was basically a walk-on.

The MSG Network just found your original NIT footage. What was it like to see that again?Incredible! Frank Gifford was one of the announcers! The commercials were all for cigarettes. It’s amazing how things have changed. I remember the game vividly, but to see the evolution of my play. That was the tournament that pulled me into the limelight.

After the NIT, how did your life change?
I never thought I was good enough to be a professional player, because whenever I read a magazine, my name wasn’t in it. I knew we were playing well against good players. We beat Louisville, and they were #2 in the nation with Wes Unseld and Butch Beard. I had a great game, but it wasn’t until I came to New York and they voted me MVP in the NIT that all these scouts started talking about me in the paper as a high draft pick. Only at that point, it dawned on me; my dream could be a reality. If I hadn’t played at the NIT in the Garden, the Knicks may not have drafted me. The scouts knew about me, but I didn’t know if I had enough hoopla.

When you got to the NBA, was there anyone that you emulated as a sharp dresser?
Dick Barnett was sharp, so I copied a lot of my style from him at first. I went to where he got his shirts made with the monogram on the sleeves, where he bought his suits and his shoes. What set me apart was the hat. I bought this hat in Baltimore two weeks before the movie Bonnie and Clyde came out. When I first wore the hat, everyone laughed at me. They wore hats then like they do now with a narrow brim, but I didn’t think I looked good in it, so I went with the wide brim. As fate would have it, two weeks later the movie came out and they were wearing the same hat. That’s when they said in the locker room, “Hey, look at Clyde!”

Were you surprised that the “Clyde” persona took off the way it did?
Sure. Around the same time that happened, my on court exploits took off. Early on, I was dressing well, but I wasn’t playing frequently, so nobody focused on my lifestyle. Once I started to play more, they could focus on my fashion. Then the Rolls Royce and the mink coats, and most of my endorsements were starting to happen and it all came together.

You were also one of the first athletes to have a sneaker named after you.
The Puma Clyde's. At that time, they would give you sneakers but they weren’t paying anyone to wear them. Bill Mathis, a former football player, came to me and said these people wanted me to try their shoe, and they would give me $5,000 to wear it, plus all the shoes I wanted. The first shoe was very clunky. I would go to the basket, and it was too heavy. I told them it didn’t matter how much they paid me, I couldn’t wear them. So I improvised, and they gave me a lighter shoe and that’s how it evolved. 

Your Game 7 of the 1970 NBA Finals against the Lakers was one of the greatest performances of all time—36 points, 19 assists. Do people ask you about it every day?
Actually, I get more recognition for it now then I did then, because people are able to watch it again on classic sports channels. People say, “Man I didn’t know you had a game like that!” All most people remember was Willis Reed limping on the court. Now they see the game, and they say, “You should have been MVP!” I get a lot of kudos now. It was Game 7. Everything was on the line.

Especially when you consider who was on the other side of the court—Wilt Chamberlain, Elgin Baylor, Jerry West.
See, a lot of people don’t even know who was on the other side. Some of the greatest players ever were on that other team.

You were dressing the part, but the NBA itself wasn’t as glamorous back then, was it?
We were like hockey is today. Baseball and football were the big sports. We didn’t have the major sponsors, so we didn’t have a lot of press coverage. And most teams didn’t spend money. Back then, they gave you two uniforms, and it was up to you to wash them yourself and keep them clean. Some teams didn’t even have a trainer on the road. They would just use the other team’s trainer. We always flew commercial; we’d have stopovers. When I got traded to Cleveland, I would have to get up at 5:30 in the morning, because you would always have to connect through Chicago. At that time, the league rule was that you had to take the first flight out on the day of a game, so that you wouldn’t be late. So we’d connect in Chicago at 7:30 am.

There was much made when the Knicks traded for Earl Monroe that you both wouldn’t be able to coexist. Do you see some of that now with LeBron and Wade or with Amar’e and Carmelo? How did you guys handle it?
You can’t let your ego get involved. Earl made all the sacrifices. I was already there, and I had won the championship. It was my team, Earl was used to taking 30 shots a game; he wasn’t used to the team concept. He had to play defense. He sacrificed his game for the good of the team. If he was having a good game, I made sure to get him the ball and vice versa. You can’t let your ego be a part of what was going on. We never competed with each other.

Would that work today?
Yeah. I mean Wade has sacrificed his game. LeBron is doing a lot there. So one guy is going to have to take a backseat. In Miami, Bosh has had to take a backseat as well. 

Was the media scrutiny as intense for you?
Yeah, even more. When teams came to New York, if Oscar Robertson or Jerry West scored 35 points, everyone was asking me what happened. When Michael Jordan scores 55, they never asked who was guarding him. If Larry Bird scored 50, they were happy. That wasn’t the case when I was playing. I had to contain the other guy, as well as getting my 20 points, my 6 rebounds, and my 6 assists.

Are there players from the 70s era that are underappreciated?
All of them are. (Laughs) Archie Clark, Flynn Robinson. A lot of people don’t know Dave Bing. Phil Chenier. You can go down the line of all of these players that are anonymous, because the league didn’t embellish them. A lot of players know me vaguely, but they know nothing about my career. There’s no TV footage. They played in small markets.

What is the biggest difference between the time of your championship teams and today?
The hoopla. You have games on every night. When we played Los Angeles in the Finals, the games from Los Angeles were on tape delay. We would be in overtime and they would just cut the game off on television. They stigmatized the players as being all black, highly paid players that were doing drugs, and then only when other sports started to have drug problems, they had to back off the NBA. That gave us a better image. Then Bird and Magic came along and the rest is history.

You were very upset when you were traded from New York to Cleveland. In hindsight, how do you look at that trade?
It was a blessing, because it gave me a chance to get away from being Clyde. I never went anywhere. I stayed home and read a lot of self help books. I knew I only wanted to play a few more years. In a way, it made me look better, because people didn’t associate me with the downfall of the Knicks at that time. That’s why today, they say “Clyde, come back and help us.” (Laughs) If I had stayed there and we continued to languish, no one would be saying that.

What did you do after your retired from playing?
I had a player agency, Walt Frazier Enterprises, where I represented guys with my agent. I went into that a few years, but I got tired of it. It felt like a babysitting job. Then in 1987, I got inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame. I was doing some interviews and people from the Knicks saw me. They approached me about doing some radio and TV. I started out doing some pregame and halftime and postgame. Then I did a few games for the Atlanta Hawks. When Ernie Grunfield went into coaching, I took over for him on the radio side.

Did you ever think your broadcasting career with the MSG Network would be twice as long as your playing career?
It was serendipitous how I got into it. I never pursued it. I found for the first time when I did the game, I enjoyed it. Whenever I got behind the microphone, no matter how bad a day I had, I was oblivious to anything else but the game. That’s why I worked so diligently to improve. I knew I had to work on my vocabulary.

It’s that where the rhyming Clyde style began?
Yes, it was kind of like rap. I used to get the Sunday edition of The New York Times  and read the Arts and Leisure section and when they would critique the plays—Riveting! Mesmerizing! Provocative! Dazzling! I liked the way all these words sounded, so I had books and books of phrases that I studied. 

Has being a broadcaster allowed you to bond with new generations of fans?
They like the rhymes and the suits. Now that I have my new restaurant (Clyde’s Wine and Dine), you wouldn’t believe how many 9 and 10 year olds badger their parents to come to Clyde’s! It’s incredible. 

What would you like your legacy to be?
That I played both ends of the court, especially defense. That I was a team player and a pressure player. With the game on the line, I was a guy that you can count on to make the big pass or the big play.