How eggs thrown in rivalry became a metaphor for coming together during America’s darkest hour

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Courtside Family This story was originally published April 10, 2020 and marked the beginning of a special relationship with Wali “Wonder” Jones, my dad’s teammate who has become like an uncle to me. Our conversations about basketball, civil rights, and what happened after MLK’s assassination created bonds that would extend to my relationship with his father, Pop Jones, whom I was privileged to interview at age 106. Now it marks the inauguration of Cunningham’s Court spin-off—Courtside Family. With my basketball roots, these branches spread far.

There’s nothing like sitting six rows up from courtside at the Spectrum with the black railing to put my feet up when we’re winning and to lean against when things didn’t look so good. Or when I was so young my ears hurt from the noise and Dad searched me out in the crowd and waved at me from the court. Mom excitedly tapped me on the knee, “It’s your Dad. He’s waving at you.” My Dad that I shared with a lot of other people—the root of my family tree.

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Nobody can have a dream as famous as MLK’s. His vision of unity and togetherness remains unmatched in its power and eloquence. As he said in his famous speech: “I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up, live out the true meaning of its creed: ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.'”

What better lens to view this dream of unity through than the 1968 basketball playoffs between the 76ers and Celtics – a rivalry of brotherhood beneath aggression, happening just as MLK’s life was tragically cut short.

The Night The Rivalry Meant Nothing: April 5, 1968

The rivalry between the Philadelphia 76ers and the Boston Celtics was legendary. The Celtics had beat the 76ers eight consecutive years until the 76ers upset them in 1967 to win the championship. In 1968, as the 76ers and Celtics geared up for game one of the playoff series, history happened. MLK was assassinated the night before.

Though the moments before that game on April 5th, 1968 would live on in those players’ minds and still be a topic of conversation at their 50th NBA reunion — why did they play? Dad said that even fifty years later they had a hard time living with their choice to play that night.

Neither team had it in their hearts for a fight. Both teams struggled with their grief.

Someone had to lose, and so the 76ers took the toll on their home court.

Palm Sunday Game Postponed

The funeral for MLK was held that Tuesday in Atlanta. The Boston Globe reported that Player/Coach Bill Russell of the Boston Celtics “wanted to attend but wouldn’t have enough time to get there and back for Wednesday’s game.” Sixers Coach Hannum made Monday and Tuesday practice optional out of respect for his five African American starters.

The Eggs Started Flying

While the players mourned, the fans maintained their rivalry – sometimes too aggressively. Roger Keim of The Philadelphia Inquirer reported on April 12th, “The game (last night) was stopped four times to clean up eggs thrown on the floor.”

Dad remembers Boston fans throwing raw eggs from the top of the stadium too. It wasn’t just the Philadelphia fans. In the Garden, Dad witnessed when Celtics guard Larry Sigfried got hit in the back by an egg thrown by his own fan, knocking him down. Sometimes they’d hit their own players by mistake. And in Philadelphia, Dad saw a beer bottle cracking open somebody’s skull.

Just as aggression was getting played out in the stands so it was playing out on the court. Mom recalls the times when Dad wasn’t sitting out due to his wrist injury coming home with bruises all over his body.

The violence in the stands seemed to mirror the aggression playing out on the court. While Dad keeps quiet about the physical toll of those games, Wali Jones paints a vivid picture.

In Wali’s Words:

“We were allowed to put our hands on another player…on the hip. When we were playing we were worse than that. There was no three-point shot. When you have these 6’8″ guys at 240, 250 pounds all boxed in like that, you’re getting hit and bumped…kneed and knocked down. Aggression was the game.”

Wali told me about playing through torn muscles, stitches in the head, broken clavicle bones, and knee operations. He still ices his knees because they swell up from those days. Once he was hit so hard in his groin he had to go to the hospital. “They wanted you to play,” he explained. “A lot of guys are crippled now because of those days.”

The Brotherhood Behind the Rivalry

The series went back and forth, with injuries mounting on both sides.

Wilt played through leg pain throughout the series, even his rival, Bill Russell could see it.

And Bailey Howell of the Boston Celtics said the same of Luke Jackson. “Jackson has a lotta guts to play on that leg. It obviously hurt him. It’s hard enough to play the game when you’re feeling great. Being hurt makes it a real chore.”

Despite their determination, the 76ers pushed through the pain but couldn’t make it in the end. The Celtics took game seven at the Spectrum, ending Philadelphia’s hopes for a repeat championship.

But Wali said it best, “We’d try to kill each other on the court and then go to each other’s houses for dinner afterwards.”

That brotherhood behind the rivalry mattered more than anything, more than the rivalry, more than the egg throwing.

Through my conversations with Wali Jones about this time, I gained a new understanding of the brotherhood between these “rival” teams. Despite the aggression on court and the fans egging the teams on, the players themselves shared deep respect and connection. As Wali explained, they were brothers fighting the same battles – on and off the court.

“There was a lot of anxiety, depression, drinking,” Wali said.

The way I see it, they were freedom fighters. They were fighting for us all to be “Free at last. Free at last. Great God-a-mighty. We are free at last.” as MLK said it best.

It was a tumultuous time in history on and off the court. But we always have eggs to remind us, we’re supposed to be united, we’re not supposed to be apart.

In a season fractured by violence and grief, these men—rivals on the court—demonstrated what Dr. King’s dream looked like in reality. The Easter eggs, hurled in anger by fans clinging to division, ultimately remind us of what these players already knew: that beneath competition lies respect, beneath rivalry lies brotherhood, and beneath differences lies our shared humanity.

As we celebrate Easter today, or any day we choose unity over division, we honor not just the legacy of these basketball pioneers, but also the dream that brought them together when the world was falling apart.

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This is a Courtside Family story—celebrating the people and relationships that formed our extended basketball family. It is part of the larger Cunningham’s Court collection, which preserves the legacy of Billy Cunningham, one of the NBA’s Top 75 Players of All Time.

If you enjoyed this, check out Top 75 NBA Stories–Dialing Up Billy C in 1968

Cheers from Cunningham’s Court!

Related Memory: Dialing Up Billy C in 1968 – Experience the physical intensity of the 1968 season through Billy Cunningham’s eyes, including his recognition from the Southern Christian Leadership Conference for “participation in the cause for human dignity” during this pivotal moment in civil rights history.