It was about a year ago when the idea took hold in a bar over by Fenway. The question itself was simple: Why doesn’t Bill Russell have a statue?

As it turned out the why wasn’t really all that interesting and when it comes to Russell the answers are as one would expect. He’s difficult, of course. “Complicated” is a more accurate way to say it. Does he even want one? We’re talking about a guy who refused to show up for his own Hall of Fame induction and who had to be cajoled into a simple ceremony to retire his jersey.

Never forget that this is Boston, a place where even the simplest concepts have to be dragged through layers of institutional mazes. Whose responsibility is it – the team, the city, a civic-minded philanthropist? Oh, and where would one put it?

Rather than get sucked down the bureaucratic wormhole, my editor at Boston magazine and I decided to essentially ignore the why and turn the question into a statement. We would make the case and let the details sort themselves out.

For two months I poured myself into the Russell experience in Boston. I read everything he wrote and talked to teammates and friends. It was interesting, but hardly unexpected, that they all agreed that it would be a wonderful thing but didn’t exactly express optimism that it would get done.

As for how Russell himself felt about it, no one was really sure. I remember thinking, ‘If only Red was still alive.’ Entire notebooks were filled with rambling passages that thankfully never saw the light of day. It was, quite honestly, overwhelming.

Just before my deadline I took a trip to San Francisco. I walked over to the USF campus where the legend of Russell as a basketball player first began to take shape, but more importantly where the portrait of the young man took on even greater complexity and definition. I imagined the young Bill Russell putting his theories about the world to the test and setting the course for the rest of his exceptional life.

For the first time I felt an overwhelming sense of calm about my assignment and the piece I produced for the magazine flowed out of me like so much blood from an open wound. It took hours, not days, to work up an initial draft and when the piece ran in December there was an initial rush of positive reaction that proved ultimately fleeting. There it sat until President Obama made the case himself when he awarded Russell the Presidential Medal of Freedom in February.

From there the details did take care of themselves. The Celtics got together with the city and various civic leaders and lo and behold it got done in a matter of months. This, frankly, is as it should be because while Russell was the driving force behind the Celtics dynasty he belonged to the city as much as the basketball team. The championship banners provide an unassailable testament to his greatness as an athlete, but the impact he left on Boston has reverberated for generations.

On a blazing hot Monday morning, Mayor Tom Menino along with Celtics co-owner Steve Pagliuca announced the location of the statue in City Hall Plaza. It’s a splendid site based on its proximity to Faneuil Hall and the Freedom Trail, but the symbolism goes much deeper.

Some 35 years earlier -- not far from where the mayor spoke -- a young man bludgeoned a black lawyer named Theodore Landsmark with an American flag at the height of the busing crisis. The iconic image The Soiling of Old Glory snapped by Stanley J. Forman for the Herald-American stood for far too long as the enduring image of Boston racism and provincialism. After all these years, the harsh modernism of the Plaza is finally giving way to a long-overdue turning point in this city’s history.

Menino raised the possibility of turning the site into what he called a “Plaza of champions” in the future. Fittingly, he added, “We want to make sure Bill Russell is the lead champion.”

“I feel elated. It’s just so exciting,” Pagliuca said. “This is a fantastic site because it’s tied into the seat of government in Massachusetts. Bill is more representative of human rights as well as championships in sports and this is about education. This is the heartbeat of the city.”

It was also announced that three local artists -- Fern Cunningham, Antonio Tobias Mendez and Ann Hirsch -- were chosen as the finalists who will present their designs to the Bill Russell Legacy Committee by Oct. 10.

The guidelines of the statue design set forth by the Legacy Project provide a basic blueprint but leave much room for innovation and interpretation. It should be interactive. It should reflect not only Russell the basketball player, but also the human rights activist and the mentoring of children, which is at the heart of the project. In addition to the statue, a mentoring grant funded by the Celtics Shamrock Foundation and the Mass Mentoring Program will provide a lasting impact long after the statue is unveiled.

Pumped for details by various members of the press, the artists maintained a monastic silence about their concepts and designs but in casual conversation they relayed the enormity of the responsibility they felt. The statue is about Russell, but it’s about so much more than physical material.