Rick spent one season with the Washington Capitols, averaging 27.7 points—though his knee kept him out of two dozen games. Injury problems also felled Logan, Armstrong and George Carter, and the depleted Caps lost to Denver in the first round of the playoffs. Fan interest in the team was practically non-existent, so heading into the 1970-71 campaign, the team was uprooted once again. This time the club would play as the Virginia Squires and rotate between arenas in Richmond, Norfolk, Roanoke and Hampton. Rick decided enough was enough, and launched a campaign to get himself traded. The ABA, fearful their biggest star might return to the NBA, stepped in and brokered a deal between the Squires and the New York Nets.

I figured if the press is going to screw me and write all these things that aren’t true, I might as well use them to my benefit. It worked beautifully. Sports Illustrated put me on the cover and printed all the negative things I said about the area, which got people upset. I didn’t mean those things and apologized for them later. But it worked and got me out of a place I didn’t want to be and shouldn’t have been. I went up to New York, which was great, because I got a chance to do some TV, which opened up the doors to do broadcasting work. I had a wonderful experience with the Nets playing for Louie Carnasecca. To this day I keep in touch with him.

Rick transformed the Nets into a championship contender. Point guard Bill Melchionni blossomed into the league’s top assist man, John Roche electrified fans with his fancy dribbling, and St. John’s star Billy Paultz became one of the league’s best centers. In the 1972 playoffs, the Nets upset the powerhouse Kentucky Colonels, then edged the Squires in seven games to reach the finals—where they lost to an excellent Pacers club in six games. In two years with the Nets, Rick extended the range and accuracy of his jumper, his assist totals rose, and he further developed his defensive game.

After the 1971-72 campaign, Rick was compelled to change his address once again. A California judge ruled that he had to honor the contract he had signed with the Warriors three years earlier, so it was back to San Francisco (where the team was now known as Golden State).

After two years reacquainting himself with the NBA, Rick had a season for the ages in 1974-75. Expectations for the Warriors were low heading into the campaign, given that the team had cleaned house of veteran stars Nate Thurmond, Cazzie Russell, Clyde Lee and Jim Barnett. Guard Jeff Mullins, now in his 30s, was relegated to a supporting role. New to the team was center Clifford Ray and rookies Keith Wilkes and Phil Smith. Rick, named team captain by coach Al Attles, ran the show along with point guard Butch Beard. Attles utilized a deep roster of interchangeable parts, and guided the Warriors to a 48-34 record in the regular season. Rick pumped in 30 points and dished out six assists per game. In the playoffs, facing elimination in the Western Conference Finals against Chicago, Golden State fought back to take the series in seven games. That set up a showdown against the juggernaut Washington Bullets for the title. No one gave the Warriors the slightest chance of winning, but behind Rick's MVP performance, they ambushed Elvin Hayes & co. in four games.

How do you explain the Warriors sweeping an opponent that many believed would sweep the Warriors?

There is no doubt in my mind that it was the biggest upset in the history of the major professional team sports in this country. I defy anyone to find anything like it. The answer to your question is that everyone put their egos aside and accepted their roles and responsibilities. We had two rookies in Jamaal Wilkes, known as Keith then, who got Rookie of the Year, along with Phil Smith, who got a lot of playing time and really came through in the playoffs. Our coach, Al Attles, had the luxury of not having too big a difference in quality between the fourth and fifth man and the tenth and eleventh. If someone wasn’t playing well, he could put someone else in. The guys all rooted for one another, too. Everyone cared about winning and did whatever they could to win. It was an atmosphere you’d like to see more professional teams have.

What turned the Warriors into a championship contender?

Amazingly, the biggest difference was trading away a center who was voted one of the league’s Top 50 All-Time, Nate Thurmond, and picking up a guy who was the glue that held everyone on the team together. That was Clifford Ray. He had been Rookie of the Year with the Bulls, but when he came to the Warriors no one expected him to have much impact. But it all came together as soon as he came here. Clifford was smart. He really got to know his teammates as people. In my case, he realized that I was harmless—on the court I was in another world and what I did or said on the court stayed on the court. There was nothing personal. He told the other guys, “Look, Rick is crazy when it comes to basketball. Whatever he says, don't take it to heart. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He just wants to win and he can help us win.”

Clifford was the person who convinced the team that we had an opportunity to accomplish something very special—and that part of that was to understand and tolerate me a little better. Also, for the first time in my life I was voted captain of a team. That meant a great deal to me. I felt like I had to go out and lead by example. So, I went out and had my best all-around season as a professional basketball player.

Was that the high point of your career?

Definitely. That’s what it’s all about. Winning. The way that it happened, in “Cinderella” fashion, with the camaraderie, there’s nothing better. I wish I could have had that experience more than one time in the NBA.

Was the loss to Phoenix in 1976 the low point of your career?

It was a very disappointing thing. I did the finals for CBS and I don’t think there was any way the Celtics would have beaten us. Phoenix should have beaten them, except for a couple of bad calls.

How did you lose that series?

We altered the chemistry after the championship season and it hurt us. Against the Suns, we made some tactical mistakes and wound up losing a series we should have won. Had we still had Butch Beard I believe we would have won a second championship. It was sad. He was traded away because the GM, Dick Vertlieb, couldn’t stand listening to Butch’s wife complain to him all the time. To think that we lost the chance to repeat because of that.

Butch really understood the game. When he was in the lineup, there was never a time when I would go three or four minutes without touching the ball. Butch always made sure to run the offense through me.

After we gave away Game 6 of the Phoenix series, I had a big first half in Game 7. But in the third quarter I hardly saw the ball. Looking back, I should have been the pain in the ass that everyone always thought I was, called a timeout and asked my teammates, “What the hell is going on? Give me the damn ball.” Years later, when I was coaching minor-league ball, Darren Hancock had 26 points for our team in the first half, and then he goes three minutes into the third quarter without touching the ball. I called a 20-second timeout and brought the team in. “Guys,” I said, “I’d like to introduce you to Darren Hancock. He’s your teammate and scored 26 points in the first half. Do you think we could give him the ball?”

You took some heat for the loss to the Suns, right?

Yes, and it really hurt my feelings. Al McCoy, the Phoenix radio announcer, had the audacity to say I got mad at my teammates and quit on them. Anyone who knew me knew that Rick Barry always played as hard as he could and did whatever he could to win—especially with a chance to go to the NBA Finals. You had to be sick to believe otherwise. It was an insult to me. What happened was that late in the game, when the ball was finally coming to me, I didn’t want to do what had gotten us in trouble during the second half, which is going one-on-one and trying to do everything individually. We began to work the ball around again, made a comeback and got Phoenix’s lead down to four points. I ran a pick-and-roll with Clifford Ray, but he missed the shot. The Suns came down and Alvan Adams got a dunk that broke our backs. Had Clifford scored, I think we would have won and made it to the finals.

What drew you to Houston?

Some people say you invented the "point forward" position with the Rockets.