Sport: Brotherly Love in Philadelphia

Cunningham has shaped up the feuding 76ers for the play-offs

It made sense in a way. Philadelphia 76er Coach Billy Cunningham had just watched his team, the most prodigally gifted in the N.B.A., lose to the league's second worst club, the Houston Rockets, and he needed a lift. Emerging from a disco after a few consoling beers, he got one. A man who claims to hold the world's record for push-ups (9,000 in five hours) offered to demonstrate his prowess. Cunningham gingerly stepped onto his back. Up, down, up, down—two full push-ups with the 212-lb. coach aboard. "Only in the N.B.A.," said Cunningham, "do you meet crazy people like that."

Billy Cunningham ought to know. The outfit he will lead into the pro playoffs next week in quest of the league championship was renowned for being as zany and fractious as any in sport when he took over as coach early this season. The best team money could buy (basketball division) featured a $2.2 million payroll and a collection of egos that beggared even that price tag. Forward George McGinnis often behaved as though his feet were chained to the floor when someone else had the ball. Center Darryl Dawkins, 6 ft. 11 in., 251 lbs., was a tempestuous man-child who had skipped college and played wearing two gold necklaces and an earring. At his best, Guard Lloyd Free almost lived up to his self-appraisal as "All-World," but he was known as a gunner even on a team of determined shooters. True, Guards Doug Collins and Henry Bibby were willing to pass the ball, and, of course, Philly had the splendid Julius Erving, the All-Stratosphere Dr. J, who was difficult to fault even on a rare bad night. Taken all together, the 76ers had talent to burn—and they did.

Coached by Gene Shue, the 76ers last season fought with one another as much as they battled opponents. Someone was always complaining about not getting enough playing time or asking to be traded. The Sixers wasted their formidable skills in playground pyrotechnics and ego-invigorating one-on-one duels. The limitations of such tactics were all too evident in the championship series: Philadelphia was whipped by the less-talented but cohesive and unselfish Portland Trail Blazers. When this season began with a 2-4 whimper, Coach Shue was dispatched and Cunningham summoned.

Though Cunningham was a former 76er star—his career was cut short two years ago by a knee injury—his qualifications as a coach were unimpressive. "I never coached a day in my life," he says. "But basketball goes through cycles. When I came in, they were looking for college coaches. Now it's younger coaches who can possibly communicate and understand the players a little better." While Shue remained aloof from his players, Cunningham, who is only 34 and had played with or against most of his new charges, was already one of the boys. Says McGinnis: "Billy came in and started hugging us and telling us how much he liked us. He'd stop by the house, or give us a ride home. Those are little, intangible things, but they make a difference."