BOSTON — There is no head coach of the Boston Celtics.
That’s the world Joe Mazzulla wants to live in. The reality he wants his players to buy into. “He doesn't like to be called a coach,” said Anfernee Simons, who just joined the Celtics a few months ago.
Pat Riley had screaming matches with every player he ever coached. The Philadelphia 76ers almost traded Allen Iverson due to his feud with Larry Brown, among other issues. Latrell Sprewell put PJ Carlesimo in a chokehold. Literally.
The power dynamic between coaches and players has spawned unimaginable rifts in every period of NBA history. Mazzulla aims to create a different culture.
Don’t get it twisted—Mazzulla still yells. Boston’s training camp has been intense so far. “A lot of yelling,” said Simons. And Joe is no exception to that. “Joe, for sure.”
But Mazzulla wants to yell as a peer. Not as a coach.
“Those guys are out there,” he said. “They're the ones that are playing. They're the ones that have been competing for many years, and I'm relatively around the same age. I think there [are] other ways to build a mutual respect besides a title. Just finding those ways to be able to do that.”
Joe Mazzulla doesn't want to be 'Coach,' he wants to be 'Joe'
For Simons, this is a different experience. During his time with the Portland Trail Blazers, he played under Chauncey Billups and Terry Stotts. Combined with his high school career, time at Montverde and IMG Academy, and experience on the AAU scene, Simons has played for plenty of coaches. But none quite like Mazzulla.
“It's a mentor in a way,” Simons said of Mazzulla’s style. “Obviously, he's our coach, technically, but out there, he's pushing you to be the best, no matter how that looks. And so, it's really not a coach relationship. More like a mentor.”
Mazzulla’s goal to create a coach-less environment runs beyond the hardwood. He makes it a point to be involved in the lives of every single player on the roster. That relationship building matters.
For him, it’s a core principle of who he is as a coach (or mentor, or peer).
Over the summer, he spent hours with Jayson Tatum, who is recovering from a ruptured Achilles. “I was there for the first time he walked, I was there for the first time he ran, and I was there for the first shots that he took,” Mazzulla said.
When Chris Boucher, who signed with the Celtics 52 days ago, got baptized last week, Mazzulla was there. “I thought that was really important,” said Mazzulla. Boucher said Boston has made him feel like a part of the family more than any other place he’s experienced.
Mazzulla spent the summer finding the best way he could connect with everyone.
“Some people, you go visit them,” he said. “Some people you just see here. Some people like dinner, some people like coffee, some people don't like doing anything at all. So, I think it's just having an understanding of what's important to each guy and finding that correlation that you can make with them and build on that.
That extra effort, that unrelenting care, is what sets Mazzulla apart. It’s what moves him from ‘Coach’ to ‘Joe.’
“It makes you want to go out there and play for him even more when you have that connection off the court,” Simons said. “He's really invested in your off-court life. And so, you can see that he does that for everybody, including me. Asking about the kids and dropping off stuff at the house.
“Just being connected with the players off the court, and that goes a long way building relationships, especially with new players coming in. Might not be as comfortable as I want to be, and he's just trying to bridge that gap and make me more comfortable even faster.”
But the players aren’t the sole focus. And neither is Mazzulla.
Celtics culture is more than championships. It’s more than just winning. It’s about every daily interaction, conversation, or individual effort that adds up to the end goal.
For every trip to Simons’ home Mazzulla makes, the new Celtics guard has double the number of exchanges with people who work at the Auerbach Center. The PR staff. The janitor. The tech team.
Those are what make the Celtics tick.
“One of the things that I've learned in three years is, practice starts at 11, by the time you get to practice, there's already been five, six interactions that the players have had with people in other departments of the building,” Mazzulla said. “And if you don't win those interactions, you can't get the best at practice. So, the people in the building are actually much more important than I am, because they see the players first.
“Whether it's the kitchen, whether it's security, whether it's medical or strength and conditioning. Those interactions play a huge part in making sure that by the time we get to the court, we're ready to go. So, that's kind of how you build it. It's the empowerment and the ownership to understand that everyone plays a part in winning. And you go about that every day.”
It’s the little moments that make the Celtics what they are.
“The Celtics have been a successful culture for a long time. They were in the past, they are now, and they will be long when we're all outta here,” said Mazzulla. “So, relying on the foundation of that, and at the same time, getting to know people, meeting where they're at, having an understanding that they impact winning.”
Being a coach is nowhere near as important as being a person. That’s the culture Mazzulla strives to cultivate. And every single person who walks through the doors of the Auerbach Center or TD Garden feels it.
“Man, it's amazing. He's inspiring, truthfully” Josh Minott said of working with Mazzulla. “Little bit of a weirdo. He's a great dude, though, man. He's someone that—He inspires passion. He's definitely someone that, just from the month and a half of knowing him, man, I feel like I'd run through a wall for him. Truthfully. He just has that effect on people.
“He takes a lot of time personalizing his relationships with people. He doesn't talk to any two people the same way, because he understands that we're all different, and it's a blessing to be able to play for him.”
Mazzulla has created a working environment that survives on the foundation of care. Caring about winning, caring about effort, but most importantly, caring about people.
All the people.
“I think it just means he cares for everybody that he coaches,” said Baylor Scheierman. “It allows him to coach us hard, and we don't take that too personally, because we know he just cares for us and just wants what's best for us and wants to help us grow.”
That’s how winning happens.
“I think you just build a connection and have an understanding that together, you understand what winning looks like, but you also care about the person and the player,” Mazzulla said.
“It just allows you to build a connection and just trust that what you're doing is in the best interest of each player, in the best interest of the team, and gives us the best chance to win.”
If asked about his role in the team’s success, Mazzulla would immediately point elsewhere. He’d credit the kitchen staff for keeping the team energized, the assistant coaches for scouting every opponent, and the front desk for helping everyone begin the day with a smile.
Trainers, chaplains, security guards, equipment managers, ball boys, tech guys, and even the bus drivers sit level, or even above, the head coach in terms of importance.
That’s because there is no head coach. Not to Mazzulla.
He just wants to be another cog in the Celtics machine.