A banner night: Sonics retire Haywood's No. 24

In 24 minutes somber feelings morphed into a rally cry.

That's the power of Spencer Haywood.

Much like most memorial services, Monday's Sonics game began with teary eyes as the organization recognized the passing of Dennis Johnson, Finals MVP of the 1979 championship team. But as the evening drifted into remembering the first Sonics player to make the No. 24 jersey famous before Johnson, the halftime ceremony honoring the retirement of Haywood's number was a cathartic celebration that had the 16,538 in attendance reflecting about warm memories of both players.

And Haywood, as he did in 1971 with the historic Supreme Court ruling that permitted early entry into the NBA, seized the moment in his acceptance speech, telling the fans, "Don't let the Sonics leave town."

"People need to understand this is not about big money," an emotional Haywood said after the 24-minute halftime ceremony. "This is about heritage. You cannot let your heritage go away like that."

Haywood's star power was shown in the people who attended the game. Hall of Famer Bill Russell sat courtside with his wife. The five Sonics to have their numbers retired before Haywood participated in the celebration, including Portland coach Nate McMillan, a former player and coach for Seattle who reverted back to his "Mr. Sonic" title for a night.

All wore black circular "DJ" patches on their suit lapels in memory of Johnson and walked a green Sonics carpet. Haywood was given a set of golf clubs, an engraved Rolex watch and a framed jersey.

Trying not to cry, Haywood spilled into stories about Jack Sikma, former teammate Fred Brown and his first NBA coach, Lenny Wilkens. Backstage, with his family and one of his favorite point guards, Slick Watts, Haywood shared more tales, like the times the whole team drove to then-Central District staple Ms. Helens restaurant to eat soul food.

On the court, Haywood still leads the organization in career scoring (24.9) and rebounding (12.1) averages. Wilkens readily talks about Haywood's silky turnaround jumper. Watts mentions Haywood's rim-rattling dunks. Haywood's sister, Ivory, will never forget the time Spencer got into a fight with Rick Barry and she took to the court with a swinging purse into the fray of players.

"I had never seen my brother get in a tussle before," said Ivory. "I thought 'Oh no!' So me and my sister went down and I didn't know who I was getting, but my purse did."

So, in a time of sorrow, it was fine to beam a bright smile.

"Spencer ... this is so well-deserved for him," said Wilkens, who often comforted the 21-year-old Haywood during his court struggles.

Wilkens spoke with Johnson in September about Wilkens' new position with the Sonics as vice chairman. Eventually the conversation drifted to the possibility of Wilkens rejoining the Sonics as head coach. If it were to happen, Wilkens told Johnson he would be a candidate for an assistant position. Johnson died of a heart attack last Thursday at 52.

"I told him I would keep him in mind because I watched him develop and grow, but now, who knows what could have happened?" Wilkens said.

While the basketball community outside of Seattle may have wondered how to embrace Haywood's imprint on the game, the majority of Sonics fans have never wavered.

And never forgot.

On Monday afternoon there was a line circled around the KeyBank downtown that had to be stopped and policed to control the fans seeking autographs from Haywood. At the game, he greeted more fans and signed more memorabilia.

By the end, Haywood felt he signed more autographs than he grabbed rebounds (7,038) in his 12-year NBA career.

Today, Haywood is spreading his legacy to early-entry players so they know the high salaries and glitzy NBA lifestyle they're enjoying is because of his stance against the system.

And now there's finally a banner that will hang in the rafters so that no one can forget.

Jayda Evans: 206-464-2067 or jevans@seattletimes.com