Jack’s Blog

One advantage of being retired is you can go where you want when you want.  I called my friend Dave Severns, the director of player development for the Los Angeles Clippers and asked him if he had an extra ticket for last Wednesday night’s game against the Philadelphia 76ers.  He told me he did and invited me to spend a couple days with him.  I hooked up with him at noon on game day and he told me it would be easier if I’d just ride to the game with him.

About 3:45 we took off for the Staples Center.  Dave got me a pass for the Family Room, a nice (big) room where friends and family, with the proper pass (which, believe me, had better be visibly showing), can wait prior to, halftime and post game.  Of course, it’s a deliciously catered affair with comfortable quarters and TVs so you know when it’s time to head out (or return) to the arena (or not, your choice).  All in all, it’s a wonderful perk for the friends and family of the Clippers’ players and coaches.

Ten of us were enjoying our own pregame meal at the large, circular table.  I happened to be sitting next to the family of one of the players (I knew which one due to their passes lying face up next to me).  A couple of women next to them on the opposite side, one of whom was a Clippers’ employee, were having a conversation as were others at the table when one guy makes a remark to his friend that could have been construed as a negative remark about the Clippers’ recent play.

The lady from the Clippers organization said, “Watch it, we have one of the players’ wives at the table.”

The guy replies, “Which one?”

The wife, without so much as raising her head, gave the two men (and the rest of us for that matter) a lesson in proper manners.  Her three word answer was:

“It doesn’t matter.”

For the record - and because, admit it, you’re dying to know - it was Caron Butler’s wife.

Long-time, loyal reader Pete Vaz (soon to be inducted in the NorCal Hall of Fame) commented that he wanted to hear what his friend and mine, Clippers’ assistant Dave Severns, had to say on The Jerry Tarkanian Show on Tuesday night.  One story, in particular, shed light on the type of competitor Bulls’ guard Derrick Rose is.  (Dave worked on the Bulls’ staff during Rose’s first two years in the NBA).

Before the draft following his announcement he would leave Memphis to go pro (the Bulls held the rights to the first overall pick), Rose had an interview with Chicago’s front office, including owner Jerry Reinsdorf.  Prior to his meeting, the Bulls met with Michael Beasley, who was also coming off a banner collegiate season.  During the session with Beasley, there were a couple occasions in which (one of) his (two) cell phones went off.  Believe it or not, he answered the calls!  

New head coach Vinny Del Negro advised him that he was meeting with the owner and that, at that time, there couldn’t be too many things more important than listening to what Mr. Reinsdorf had to say and answering whatever questions the people at the meeting had of him.  When Reinsdorf posed the question, “What about college basketball bothered you most?” Beasley contemplated for a moment and said, “When you go on the road and the referees make bad calls.”

When it was Rose’s turn in front of the brass, he sat up straight and was totally focused.  He had a thorough grasp of the magnitude of the encounter.  He put his ego aside.  Consider this is a guy who won back-to-back state titles in high school and went 38-2 in his only season in college, dropping the national championship game in overtime.  His answer speaks for the kind of guy Derrick Rose is and why he’s destined for (even more) greatness.  What was his response to Reinsdorf’s question, “What about college basketball bothered you most?”

“Losing.”

When you turn 80 years of age, you become a lot more open about decisions you made when you were younger that, at that time, you’re glad weren’t made public.  Last night on The Jerry Tarkanian Show (1430 ESPN, Fresno), our guest was Los Angeles Clippers’ assistant coach for player development, Dave Severns.

Dave is a Fresno guy (actually Dos Palos - don’t want to get in trouble with the good people there) who climbed the coaching ropes rapidly - over a period of several decades (for an explanation, please read my lengthy blog from 11/4/08).  He gave us an NBA insider’s view on everything from working with talented guys - with incredible work ethics - like Joakim Noah, Derrick Rose (he was with the Bulls prior to taking the job with the Clippers) and Blake Griffin, to Jerry Reinsdorf’s private interviews with potential number one draft picks.

When he mentioned the latter, Tark interjected with a story I’d never heard - and I have worked with him for the past 16 years (first at Fresno State, then as host of his radio show) and have known him since 1974!  I swore I’d heard every fantastic tale (all true too) that he experienced.  Not this one.

“I was in discussions about being offered the Lakers’ job and I was at (then-owner) Jack Kent Cooke’s house.  All their executives were there and they were talking about how they had the number one pick.  They planned on taking Magic Johnson.

“It came up that they could trade it and get Reggie Theus” (who Tark coached at UNLV and was coming off a year in which he averaged over 16 ppg for the Bulls and came in second for Rookie of the Year) “and” (super swingman from Arkansas) “Junior Bridgeman.  Everybody thought the best idea was to take Magic - except me.

“I said they should make the trade.”

To say the fortunes of the Los Angeles Lakers would have been drastically impacted might qualify as the understatement of all-time.  In this case, the wise move would have been to follow this advice:

“Just because you have an opinion doesn’t necessarily mean you need to express it.”

My close friend, Dave Severns, assistant coach for player development with the Los Angeles Clippers, and I were discussing the plethora of outstanding point guards.  Dave mentioned that the two most difficult positions to play (in team sports) are quarterback and point guard.  I’ve always felt point guard is tougher (not to devalue QB - see the 11/15/10 blog and the John Harbaugh quote regarding comparisons) because the point guard has to play both offense and defense and is handling the ball or guarding it 90% of the time.  One reason for our conversation was that the Clips had just played the Utah Jazz who has, arguably, the best lead guard in the league in Deron Williams.  Dave gets to watch these guys up close and we came to the conclusion that never before have there been as many great - and at all using that word lightly as often is the case in discussions in sports - point guards as there are today.  Williams is certainly one, but by no means is he the consensus pick.In fact, if you were a general manager and had to select a point guard for your team right now, you could be satisfied if you selected no higher than, say, tenth!  Really?  Let’s count them.  Beyond Williams, there’s Derrick Rose, another point whose name is bantered about as the best in the NBA.  As early as a few weeks ago, Rajon Rondo or Chris Paul was the sexy pick.There can’t be too many GM’s who’d be disappointed if they had to go into a game with Steve Nash as their starter at the one and, although he’s been in the league as long as nearly everyone else currently playing, Jason Kidd ruled the lead guard roost for quite a while.  The rap on Kidd was that he was a classic big guard who was an incredible passer, but couldn’t shoot.  His rookie year, he made just 27% of hos three-point attempts.  Now in his 19th season (yeah, nineteenth) his three-point accuracy is around 45% (after shooting over 42% from three-point land last year). Show me a coach who doesn’t moan and groan about how difficult it is for their point guard to keep Tony Parker from penetrating?  As far as young guards, last year’s rookie-of-the-year Tyreke Evans hasn’t played anywhere near the way he did last year, but the other candidates for ROY, Stephen Curry and Brandon Jennings wouldn’t disappoint too many clubs if they wound up on their rosters.  Plus, the youngest, John Wall, although beset by injuries recently, was the talk of the league from the summer league until he went down. The up-and-coming team in the NBA,

Oklahoma City, is led by Russell Westbrook who seems to be the perfect complement to future MVP Kevin Durrant.  And, as far as a good match for the team, I’m not so sure the Lakers would want anyone other than their two-headed point, Derek Fisher and Steve Blake.Nowhere in this conversation have the names Chauncey Billups or Devin Harris come up, neither of whom are slouches.  And there are more!  The position of point guard is as difficult a challenge as there is in team sports, but as George S. Patton said:“Accept the challenges so that you may feel the exhilaration of victory.”

Since I just recently blogged on #1 son, Andy, anyone who’s married (or has ever been married), knows (in the latter case, probably found out a little too late) in order to keep the household running smoothly, there’d better be a post on “the other white meat.”  Not sure that description doesn’t start me out in a hole, but it just seems to me that too many people are way too uptight today and there’s too little humor.  Even if it’s weak.

Last Saturday, Buchanan High’s basketball season tipped off at Newark Memorial HS.  One of the games was BHS vs. St. Patrick’s.  Our younger son, Alex, who has shot up to 6′3″, 185 is one of the starting guards for the Bears.  He finished last year on a strong note.  As a freshman, he became a starter who ended up averaging 14 ppg.  He was excited for his soph campaign to begin.

Only slightly more excited than his dad.  So, after my, by now, harrowing description of Thanksgiving week (in case you missed it, suffice to say there were several turkeys who had better a better week than I did - and they were the ones who got cooked!), you can only imagine how pumped I was to make the 2 1/2 trip to the coast to check out the season opener.

The night prior, my wife and I had been conversing (actually, I was rambling and she was trying to contain her fright at this wired fool in front of her).  I mentioned we’d probably leave at around 10:30 am for the 2:00 pm tipoff.  Jane casually mentioned, “Maybe you shouldn’t go tomorrow.”

Talk about hitting a hot button!  “What!  Do you think I’m missing Alex’s first game of the year?  You can stay home if you want, but this guy’s leaving tomorrow for Newark!”  

In our family, I’m a charter member in the Robert Young Fan Club, i.e. Father Knows Best.  In this case, ol’ padre might have known best, but when the body shuts down, it’s no longer an argument regarding knowledge, but reality.

Had I been airlifted to Newark, they still would have had to pour me in the gymnasium.  Bottom line: I didn’t go.  It seemed as though Buchanan needed another male member of our family a whole lot more than it did me and the Bears managed a victory.  Bittersweet moment: Not being there to see - as Chicago Bulls’ assistant coach for player development, Dave Severns, calls him - “The Lil’ Mex” get presented with Player of the Game Award.  For the story behind that nickname, order a copy of my book, Life’s A Joke (holiday price: $5, plus S&H) on this website.

As far as my physical well-being at that moment, anytime I feel that miserable (and by that I mean, a trip to the ER - where I’d been on T-giving Day), I think of my late, brilliant - and wealthy - mentor, John Savage, who was fond of saying:

“Money isn’t everything.  Health is 2%.”  Â

We’re back - and getting home from St. Louis was a heckuva lot easier than going there was.  Read on about our trip to St. Louis. 

Our (my wife, Jane and son, Alex, and I) journey to St. Louis (Alex had been invited to the NIKE Hoop Jamboree, a 4-day competition for the Top 100 freshmen and sophomore high school basketball players in the country) began without incident.  The check-in for the flight from Fresno to Las Vegas was smooth and the flight was on time and uneventful.  The remainder of the trip could have been a great deal easier than it was, but at the time, who was to know?

Our plane arrived at the Sin City airport and we immediately went to our departing gate for the Denver portion of the trip (Fresno isn’t one of the easiest places to get in and out of), where we were then to catch a plane to St. Louis.  As we were about to sit down, we heard an announcement that there was ground fog in Denver which was causing delays for all planes going in and out of the Mile High City (no wonder there was ground fog -normally, fog a mile high doesn’t affect travel). 

We inquired about our flight in particular, and was told it would be 45 minutes late.  Since our connection was only an hour, that left us only 15 minutes to make our next flight (and, the gate agent informed us, we needed to keep in mind that the doors closed 10 minutes prior to departure).  In addition, our plane arrived at Gate 33 and the St. Louis plane departed from Gate 71.  Armed with this bit of pleasant news, Jane asked the agent if, perhaps, the plane coming into Denver that would be taking us to St. Louis would also be late, giving us a little more wiggle room (than the five minutes we were currently staring at).

“No, I’m sorry,” the gate agent said.  “That aircraft is originating out of Denver.”  Lucky us.  I asked the agent, who, at that time, wasn’t in the running for the most popular person in the airport (even though he had no control over the weather in Denver) if there was a plane from Las Vegas to St. Louis, even if it meant taking a red-eye, or if there was another flight to Denver.  No direct St. Lou flight and, naturally, our flight was the last one out of Vegas to Denver. 

“I can get you on a flight to St. Louis tomorrow morning that gets in at 11:20 am,” he told me.  That meant we’d have to wait for our luggage, get a rental car and drive directly to the registration site on the campus of St. Louis U.  Since the camp wasn’t going to be a breeze for Alex to begin with, I was trying to find a way to give him the best chance to perform well, knowing that stepping off of a plane and onto the court wasn’t it.  Participants had to be checked in by 12 Noon CST on Thursday (which is why we had to leave on Wednesday) and activities started promptly at 3:00 pm.  So, we were going to be late for check-in and he’d have to rush to get his dorm room, gear, get dressed and back to the rec center - not to mention that we’d have to either get a hotel room and get up really early to make it back to the airport, or sleep at the gate, neither option sounding too good to me.  It turned out it didn’t matter as that flight was way overbooked.  This was just the beginning.

“There’s a flight to Chicago (from Denver) that leaves a little later than your original flight to St. Louis, which would then connect to a flight to St. Louis, . . . oh, but it’s oversold, too.” That situation sounded as good to me as we could hope for at this time so I asked if there was any possible way he could put us on standby and let us take our chances.  “I’m sorry, but since you have baggage checked and it’s too late to take it off the plane it’s on, that would be impossible. 

“Don’t worry about the baggage” (Alex had carried his bag on so, technically, we had all the bags we absolutely needed; Jane and I could handle the inconvenience of a day with the same clothes and we could always get toiletries at the hotel).

“Well, sir, you’re not allowed to fly on one plane and have your baggage on another.” 

“Why not?” I asked him.  “Look, we got on our original flight with the luggage, and there’s no way we would have known that ground fog in Denver would ruin our plans to get to St. Louis for a basketball event, so” (here’s where you have to be really careful with what you say, because with airport security having been ratcheted up since 9/11/01 - when terrorists who’d been known to have taken flying lessons, but weren’t interested in how to land a plane, and all the other obvious oversights that occurred before that fateful and horrific day - they never know when an overweight, nearly bald, 60-year-old Jewish guy, who’s had eight back surgeries and is with his wife and 15-year-old son, . . . never mind), “what else ya got?”

Ignoring my frustration, he continued, “The next best thing I can get you is a flight from  Denver that leaves at 9 and gets to Chicago at about one in the morning, then a flight at 8 am that gets into St. Louis at 9:20 am.”  As completely absurd as it sounds, I was actually considering this.  I mean, what other choice did I have?  I told him to reserve three seats on the Las Vegas-Denver, Denver-Chicago and Chicago-St. Louis flights.  Then, I called my buddy, Dave Severns (the assistant coach for player development for the Chicago Bulls and the guy who worked out Alex numerous times when he still lived in Fresno) to tell him of this SNAFU. 

He had mentioned, depending on his schedule, he might be coming down to watch a day of camp.  “How long a drive is it from Chicago to St. Louis?” I asked.

“About five hours.  Why, is that what you’re thinking of doing?  Driving?”

The more I thought about it, the more sense it made - which I now realize that, even thinking for a moment it made sense (flying from Fresno-Las Vegas, Las Vegas-Denver, Denver-Chicago and then, on whatever sleep I got on the plane, renting a car and driving five hours to St. Louis) showed how screwed up my reasoning was.  Yet, I called the St. Louis Courtyard Marriott (one of the hotels Nike had recommended because of its proximity to SLU) and told them we’d not be coming in that night, but would be there as early as 6-7 am the following morning and we’d need a room, so please do not cancel it, we’d pay for the night but would need immediate check-in that next morning. 

I next made my way to the counter to tell the gate agent my plans and that I needed to have my ticket terminated in Chicago so I could retrieve my bags.  He told me that wouldn’t be a problem, to tell them in Denver.  He was getting less helpful by the request.

 My next call was to Alamo Rent-a-Car to cancel the car in St. Louis (4 days with AAA discount was to cost $109.50) and reserve a car in Chicago that I’d need for the same time, but dropping at the same place (St. Louis airport).  Did they have a car that possibly had been driven from St. Louis and dropped in Chicago?

“Let’s see,” the Alamo salesperson (speaking to me from India or some place “overseas,” which he told me when I asked what his location was), “I can get you one for $185″ (I’m thinking, “OK, that’s not too bad”) per day, for a total of …” and then all I remember is a number that started with eight hundred.  This whole trip was beginning to have a major impact on my blood pressure.  My yoga instructor would be so thrilled at how much practice I was getting using my breathing techniques. 

We decided to get something to eat and when we got back to the gate, our new flight to Denver had been delayed so we were going to miss our connection to Chicago anyway.  Of course, the gate agent who had “helped” me with this new flight itinerary had gone home (by car, bus, bike or longboard) and I went to a new face and tried a different tactic.

“Do you have any kids?”  I asked the gentleman, who I was certain, did.

“Yes, I do,” he replied.

“My son over there” (by this time, Alex was sprawled out on the floor, against the wall) “was selected as one of the Top 100 freshmen and sophomore basketball players in the country.”

“Wow, that’s quite an honor.”

“Yeah, it sure is, thanks.  Let me ask you, if he were your son, wouldn’t you try your best to get him there and give him the best possible opportunity to succeed?”  By now, I was close to, if not actually, begging.

“Look,” he said.  “We’re trying to get everybody on your flight” (the first one to Denver) “on the flight over there” (he pointed a couple gates away where a line of about 100 people were standing).  “I’ll get you three tickets on that one.”

“What about these boarding passes to Denver, Chicago and St. Louis?”  I asked, not sure why, since this guy was doing us the biggest favor we’d asked for in Vegas (including, “no bacon” on my turkey sandwich).  He told us that we might need them in Denver.

So, we got on the Denver flight and made it there about an hour later (9:35) than we were supposed to originally arrive (8:31).  We checked the “Departures” and saw the flight for Chicago was delayed until 10:36.  Wait!!!  The flight to St. Louis was scheduled to leave at 10:04.  Next to the departure time were the words “delayed - weather.”  Uh-oh.  Major problem!  We didn’t have tickets on that flight anymore.  I remembered how the Vegas gate agent had assured me there was no way we could make the connection because the plane originated out of Denver.  It turned out the plane did originate in Denver but the pilot and crew were delayed on their way to Denver.

The Chicago flight was to depart from Gate 27 (sure enough, we had arrived at Gate 33) and I used the “Do you have any kids?” routine again.  The gate agent did (aren’t children wonderful?) and said, although he couldn’t call Gate 71, that Jane and Alex ought to start heading that way - pronto! because they were boarding - while he printed out new tickets.  I did the best I could to “run” (something I haven’t done since I had a morphine pump implanted in my abdomen) - with my over-the-shoulder brief case, James Patterson novel and purse (man bag, for those who don’t like to use the term “purse” for something a male carries). 

Out of breath and experiencing a pain level of, on a scale from 1-10 (which nurses and doctors are fond of asking people who are hurting) - infinity, I made it to Gate 71.  No one, other than Jane, Alex and a solitary agent, were there.  Turns out they boarded downstairs and they were holding the door for us.  Hallelujah! 

We got on the plane and got into St. Louis at 1:30 am (exactly one hour later than the itinerary said).  All that angst, worry and stress for - an hour!  It’s like Mark Twain said:

“I’ve had many problems in my life - most of which never happened.”

   Â

It’s always baffled me why anyone would want to be a referee, umpire or official of any sort in an athletics contest.  Sure, you get to “stay in the game” after you’re too old to play it and, you do get paid.

Those two “perks” pale in comparison to all the negatives you encounter.  One, no matter what you call - or don’t call - you have people who will not only disagree with you, but be extremely vocal, even rude (including vulgar) about it, voicing their disagreement of your opinion, which, if you’re what nearly every official is (Tim Donaghy excluded), you made to the best and fairest of your abilities. 

Second, especially if you referee basketball, you have chosen a nearly impossible task.  In many instances, not only would some of your colleagues not only see the call you made differently than you did, they would defend their decision as strongly as you would defend yours.  What this means is that your job (and all the decisions that come with it) - and which affect the participants on the playing surface much more than they do you, has become incurably subjective.  This can only cause headaches for the person (you) who is supposed to have no stake in the outcome, yet whose every call can make a winner into a loser, or vica versa.

One major bone of contention is that too many (and one is too many) officials have overblown opinions of themselves, i.e. they know they have that kind of power - and many thrive on it.  Many are typical humans, people who like to hear the approval of the crowd.  This brand of official is known as the homer.  Make the call in favor of the home squad and you are serenaded with loud and, seemingly, loving cheers - almost like you actually did something that others ought to be celebrating.

On the other hand, there are those “whistle blowers” who truly get a kick out of upsetting folks and enjoy the chorus(es) of boos they extract from an otherwise civil group of men, women and children.  These are, in most instances, the egomaniacs.  Each of the two groups have a common trait.  They are nearly always wrong, and are among the most inept people performing their jobs that we have in today’s society, but fail to understand their incompetence.

One thing in their favor: not only do they not have to discuss their job performance, they aren’t allowed to.  In an earlier blog, I mentioned that my friend and mentor, as well as my former boss, George Raveling, made the comment regarding the officials: “This is some country.  You can call the President of the United States a (jerk) but you can’t say anything about the officials.”

For the two incompetent groups mentioned thusfar in this blog, there is a weird and terrible mix taking place.  People who aren’t very good at their job are not being held accountable.  Directors of officiating will vehemently disagree.  They claim there have been officials who been fined, suspended or even dismissed from the profession.  Yet, that still can’t come close to making up for the awful travesty the official(s) created.  When teams win or lose, it goes on their records.  Ever ask an official what his/her record is?  It’s one of those hypothetical questions you hope doesn’t have an answer (another Donaghy reference).

All of this (gentle) ranting has a point.  If the officiating crew from last night’s Boston-Chicago NBA game aren’t subjected to intense scrutiny regarding the non-call on the Celts’ Rajon Rondo, when he simply smacked - with quite a bit of force - Bulls’ center, Brad Miller, in the face on his would be game-tying layup, with less than five seconds left  in overtime - then let all the conspiracy theories abound.

With the Celtics up 106-104, courtesy of Paul Pierce’s clutch jumper (he seems to have an endless supply), the Bulls called their final time out.  Even knowledgeable Doug Collins made the statement that there was nothing either of these teams could do that the other didn’t know.  It certainly sounded reasonable, since this was the fifth game in the best of seven series and three of the five, including this one, had gone into overtime.  But the Bulls ran an out of bounds play with a great deal of movement and cutters . . . and lo and behold, there was Brad Miller, standing with the ball, at the free throw line - and nobody in front of him!

He took a dribble toward the basket and looked as if he were going to dunk, tying the game and sending it into a second overtime (matching Sunday’s game).  Rondo came from the sideline where the ball had been inbounded and just took a swing at Miller’s head.

What’s beautiful is that, even in the pro game, make that especially in the pro game, the calls are so difficult to differentiate, two people of sound mind can sit next to each other and see a call exactly opposite from one another.  Personal prejudice has to be factored in - not only which team the person’s for, but what other life experiences the person has encountered.  Case in point: On the TNT in studio set, Charles Barkley (a big guy, who’d been situations like Miller) exclaimed that Rondo committed a flagrant foul, while his partner, Kenny Smith (a former point guard), maintained that Rondo, also a point, was making a play on the ball (what distinguishes a flagrant foul - illegal - from just a hard foul - illegal).

The officials did call a foul, but not a flagrant one.  To muddy it up a little more, Collins made the claim that, while it may have been a flagrant foul, there’s no way an official would, or should, call it flagrant at that point in the game.  Kind of the “let the players decide the game.”  This flys in the face of “a foul is a foul and if it’s a foul early in the first quarter, then it ought to be a foul at the end.”  And, working off of that theory, a flagrant foul at the beginning ought to be a flagrant foul at the end.  Yet, many in the game feel that the calls made at the beginning are made to set the tone by which the game will be called, i.e. the refs are “going to take control of the game and not let it get out of hand.”

I’m not saying that this is wrong; it’s that I’ve never seen it anywhere in the rule book. This means the rules are subject to each referee or each trio working a game.  Talk about a can of worms.

Full disclosure: As many who read this blog on an even semi-regular basis know, one of my closest friends, Dave Severns, is an assistant coach for the Bulls.  However, I consider Bulls’ assistant Kevin Eastman a friend (in fact, he and I were roommates at Michael Jordan’s Flight School Summer Camp) and, while I only know Doc Rivers on a casual basis, I’ve never even met Vinny Del Negro.  What I’m trying to say is I honestly believe I can leave the partisanship at the door when it comes to judging calls, especially after seeing many replays from all different angles. 

One of the most vital facets in officiating is that the referee (umpire, linesman, back judge, etc.) must have confidence of judgment that the call that’s made is the right one, made with integrity and without an ounce of outside influence.  Each call is to follow the basic tenet of all fouls, advantage/disadvantage or did one player gain an unfair advantage or, was a player put at a disadvantage.  In the book, The Aladdin Factor, confidence is descibed like this:

“Self-confidence is the result of a successfully survived risk.”

So much for my blog saying the Lake Show would destroy the Jazz.  Like Kenny “The Jet” Smith said, “It was just a replay of Game 1.”  Maybe the Lakers are bored - or just can’t wait for the Cavs, because it certainly doesn’t look like anybody is going to come close to either of them.  So now I’m back with another prediction.  If this doesn’t come true, you can start calling me “the SI Cover Jinx.”  (Actually, I’d rather enjoy being referred to as the SI Cover Jinx, since it’s that time of year when teachers tend to get called a lot worse things when grades for the kids who have been warned about not working hard enough, not paying attention, not getting extra help in the form of math labs or tutoring and not putting in enough (any) study time, receive their final grades - and summer plans may have to be disrupted).

As I mentioned in my blog yesterday, my main man from Fresno, Dave Severns, is now with the Chicago Bulls in the capacity of assistant coach for player development.  One day, as the season was winding down, I brought up the fact of how great it would be if they could make the playoffs.  The playoffs!  For Sev, it meant that a year removed from winning the conference and playing for the Valley championship in girls’ badminton at Roosevelt HS, he’d be part of an NBA team in the PLAYOFFS, best known for 1) not having to send a rep for the draft lottery ping pong ball fiasco, 2) getting a sweet (and desperately needed) bonus check (and in the NBA, it’s for more than $100) which members of all the teams and staffs get if they make it out of the draft lottery and 3) being able to listen to the old interview cuts of Jim Mora without thinking, “Damn, we coulda been there.”  It’s also known for incredibly, beyond belief, intense basketball action, displayed by the best athletes in the world (see yesterday’s blog for further explanation).

Shortly after that call (and the subsequent winning streak the Bulls would go on), he told me how they could be the 7 seed.  I said, being a math guy, “the numbers say you could be as high as 6″, to which he replied, “Maybe, but getting 7th would be fantastic.”

“Why aren’t you fired up that you guys could move up to number 6?” I asked him, not understanding his reaction had nothing to do with just “getting versus not getting in.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, “I’d love for us to be the 6th seed.  But getting to 7th means . . . we don’t have to go to Cleveland for the first round.”

Therein lies what many, if not everyone in the East feels.  As long as we don’t have to go to Cleveland.  And, for once, it has nothing to do with bashing the city.  OK, so they didn’t tie the home court regular season record of 40-1 due to Coach-of-the-Year Mike Brown (wisely) resting his best guys (meaning LeBron James and . . . some other good players), but what they’ve done to the Detroit Pistons (granted, an old team whose trade for Allen Iverson didn’t turn out how they hoped it would . . . but how everyone else who has ever seen a basketball game, including the Saturday morning 5-year old kind, knew it would).  Remember the quote from a few blogs ago, “The greatest indicator of future behavior is past performance“?  The trade of AI for Chauncey Billups is a living example of it.  So, as Dave had expected, whoever was going to Cleveland was going to leave there with their feelings hurt - and probably not have to worry about going back until next year.

The Cavs’ counterparts on the other side, LA, has played down/toyed with/virtually ignored their opponent, the Utah Jazz.  The Jazz has a few big-time NBA players, but with Mehmet Okur out (give them something to use as a crutch so they don’t have to admit to complete and utter hopelessness), they work like the devil and come close, but in the end, it’s as inevitable as Lucy vs. Chuck - with the Jazz playing the ignominious role of CB (and, Kobe Bryant masquerading as Lucy).

The way all the other series are going, I just don’t see any other (barring something catastrophic happening) scenario but an LA-Cleveland finals.  That doesn’t mean there won’t be some entertaining, and certainly exciting, hoops for your viewing pleasure (if you enjoy basketball at its finest).  Thusfar, watching the other games (naturally, I’m biased, but, especially the first two games of the Chicago-Boston series) has been phenomenal, independent of which team you’re pulling for.  That series shows an, up ’til now, non-existent fact: Kevin Garnett might not be the Defensive Player of the Year and he might not be the MVP, but he certainly is the Defensive MVP of any league.

As stated, I’m a Bulls fan (and have been ever since this past summer), but if anybody in the world thinks the Windy City guys would be consistently on top the side of 100 (like they have been for the first two games), if KG was on the floor, there’s this great timeshare I have in Pigeon Forge, TN I’d love to talk to you about taking off my hands - for cheap!

While Boston, Utah and, of course, San Antonio and even Philadelphia, have been hit with untimely injuries, the Lakers are just now getting back Andrew Bynum, who is getting better as he gains more experience and gaining confidence because he might just be too young to realize he’s having it a little more easily than guys like him on other teams because they have to focus on the other Lakers so much.  Bynum gets, more or less, a free pass to exhibit his array of skills and use his height and length quite efectively.

But if you think the Lakers or the Cavs feel bad for the teams with the injured guys (or anyone else, for that matter), you might heed a bit of advice one of my high school coaches gave me after I had a bad practice and was hanging my head:

“If you’re looking for sympathy, you can find it in the dictionary - between shit and syphilis.”  

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Often when someone is in the midst of an experience, what happens takes on greater significance than it would have had the person waited a year or so before passing judgment. 

My close friend, Dave Severns, currently the assistant coach for player development with the Chicago Bulls (see 11/4/08 blog for some outstanding and inspirational information on “Sev”) and I agree on most issues, even if one of us is more passionate about an activity than the other.  Each of us can see the importance and relevance of the other’s enjoyment in pursuing whichever area of interest it happens to be, even though the other chooses not to be as active.

One point of contention we’ve discussed over the years is which is more exciting and fun to watch: college basketball or the NBA.  Since I worked on nine Division I basketball staffs over a 30-year period (1972-2002), 16 of those seasons culminating in postseason (NCAA or NIT) play, I’m obviously partial to the college game.  In addition, I saw - up close - some pretty intense rivalries.  I’m not only referring to Tennessee-Kentucky and USC-UCLA, but to Western Carolina-Appalachian State (the top of the mountain, ASU, vs. the bottom of the valley, WCU) and Toledo (city life) vs. Bowling Green (country living) - and only 30 minutes apart.  These people take everything seriously when it comes to competing against the other.

I do enjoy the NBA, but like most people, not until the playoffs get started.  The difference to me is the loyalty of the fan bases of the teams comprising the college game against the fan base of an NBA team.  What’s of vital importance in the college game is the school, i.e. it’s there, no threat of ever moving to another city.  How many of the fans of the Seattle Sonics do you think are staunch Oklahoma City Thunder supporters?  For that matter, do you really believe there are old timers living in Minneapolis living and dying with the Lakers (their former home, albeit quite some time ago)?  You really didn’t think a team from LA would select the nickname “Lakers,” did you?  Isn’t it MInnesota’s license plate read, Land of 10,000 Lakes?  Think it was a coincidence.  Come to think of it, there’s a heck of a lot more jazz in New Orleans than Utah.  Do you think . . . ?

In college, it’s the fight song, knowing the hometowns of the squad members as well as the likes and dislikes of the 12th man (because he’s in your English Lit class).  Fans feel a true bond with their team.  They’re eventually going to have the same degree as these megastars (well, around 55% of them, anyway, according to the recent studies I’ve seen).

Dave’s counter is professional basketball is a sport featuring the greatest athletes in the world.  A point of clarification: the winner of the Olympic decathalon has generally ben  recognized as “the world’s greatest athlete” and neither Dave nor I are about to dispute that.  What he’s referring to is that NBA players have the greatest athletic ability, e.g. running, jumping, throwing, quickness, shooting, etc. of any other team sport -anywhere.  I’m not sure there’s much of a debate on that point, but, in this day and age, people will debate, even sue if there’s a quick buck to be made, on anything.

His main point is that, watching any given game, you might, in all likelihood, see something you’ve never witnessed before.  He has a point.  Many, many years ago, the statistics regarding basketball players were: 720,000 high school players; 18,000 college players and, now, 450 NBA players (30 teams times 12 active and 3 non-active players on each club).  Those stats have drastically changed, with influx of foreign players who never went to college in the States.  No question NBA guys are the cream of the basketball crop.  Case in point: last night’s game between Chicago and Boston.  Ray Allen and Ben Gordon put on a pressure, clutch shooting clinic.  Sure, so did Steph Curry last year, but imagine a game where there was a Steph on each team.

Now, Sev has a new point in this argument.  The first two playoff games in Boston, between the Celtics and his new employer, have been down to the wire thrillers, the Bulls taking the first in OT and the Celts evening the series on a Ray Allen jumper with two seconds left.  The report I got from my man, Sev, after the first playoff game he actually saw live, was that it was the most intense game he’d ever been to.  This from a guy who’s spent a great many hours at basketball games.

“It wasn’t just the intensity of the teams, it was the intensity of the focus of the players”  (and coaches - he regards head coach Vinny Del Negro as a great guy, brilliant mind, quick wit and competitive, but he said even ‘V’ was more “lasered” than usual), the intensity of the crowd, the intensity of the refs!  Every possession was like it was the last one of the game!  Everything mattered.”  The excitement in his voice was like the kind your kid had after his first trip to DisneyLand (or his first haunted house, for those of you who were friends of Bernie Madoff). 

I saw last night’s game and, even as a TV viewer, I could actually feel all that come right through the broadcast - all the way down to Kevin Garnett (in street clothes and allegedly out for the entire playoffs), dropping “F” bombs in the direction of the visitor’s bench after Allen’s three to win it.  It was incredible to watch - I can only imagine what it was like to have a vested interest in who wins (the guys you work - and sweat - with on a daily basis), against the defending World Champs, and watching it one row behind where these gladiators sit - when they’re not in battle.

And to think, it’s only the first round!  He might be winning me over, so I have to control myself and reserve judgment until next fall when I can be of a more sound mind (I’ve pretty much given up on the body half of that equation).  But when I finally decide on college vs. pro, I have to keep in mind that line (which has been so overused, it’s been made into a poster):

“Your mind is like a parachute.  It works better when it’s open.”

It seems there is at least one segment each week on 60 Minutes devoted to a country whose main identity is that it’s one of the world leaders in poverty.  Ditto for other network news magazine shows and cable channel specials (AC 360).  There are also the commercials requesting adoption of overseas orphans, teenagers (or younger) who are forced into a position of caring for their three or four younger siblings.  Schools are now collecting coats, books and canned goods for those who are less fortunate.  And when you go to a mall, you’ll see someone ringing the bell for the Salvation Army.

All of this brings out a range of emotions in most people, from the warm, selfless feeling you get from adding something positive to another human’s life - especially at this time of the year - to a combination of sadness, helplessness and disgust that others can have so little in a world where talented minds have come up with so many ideas and inventions people generations older never imagined they’d ever see in their lifetimes.  With each airing or article of misfortune that exists outside the U.S., what is going on in this country (financial collapse, bailouts, foreclosures) seem relatively miniscule.

Now, try this exercise - but make sure you’re buckled in tightly, because what you’re going to see may just knock out of your chair.  Google “nba salaries.”  You’ll find out how much money each player in the NBA is making. 

Dave Severns, the Chicago Bulls’ new assistant coach for player development and I pretty much speak on a daily basis.  If you haven’t read the blog I did on Dave (see 11/4/08), you owe it to yourself to check it out because it’s a refreshing (and true) tale of a guy who got a position he never thought he would, but did - and deservingly so.  Now  that he’s in the league, he tells me every day how much he loves what he’s doing.  He loved it (working players out, trying to help them improve their game) before he got this gig, and now he’s getting to do it with some of the best in the world.

Our most recent conversation was about the financial situation in the NBA.  I told him it just floors me, that in a time such as the one our country’s experiencing now, that the supposed shortage of money doesn’t seem to be affecting the NBA in the slightest.  Initially, he had called after their victory over the Knicks, a team which I have to say has to be among the world leaders in waste. 

I asked Dave, who prior to becoming an employee of the NBA, was one of its biggest fans, what the deal was with the Knicks this year (my childhood favorite team).  He told me about how, just before tipoff, he looked over at the New York bench and saw Jerome James ($6.2 million) and Eddie Curry ($9.7 million) in street clothes, which is nothing compared to Stephon Marbury ($20.8 mil), who didn’t even make the trip.  While Dave agreed that was an awful lot of money to pay guys who didn’t play, he returned to his daily mantra of how great it is to be where he is.  I don’t know what Dave’s making and I wouldn’t print it if I did, but I can assure you it’s not the ballpark of any of those three Knicks (or any of the other Knicks which you can see if you’ll click on the “NBA Team Salaries” link).  I do know, and will print, that what he makes isn’t even in the parking lot of that ballpark. 

A couple other monetary stats for you, the reader, to chew on: Mike Bibby is the 20th highest paid player in the league.  His salary: $15 million.  I wonder if the GNP’s of all the countries in the world were listed side by side with the top NBA players’ salaries, if there would come a time that the player listed across from the country would have the larger of the two numbers.  The most recent coach to be fired (very few, if any, are in the last year of their contract, so even though they may be counted as one of the 553,000 Americans who lost their job last month, they don’t have to apply for food stamps any time soon) was Randy Wittman of the Minnesota Timberwolves.  The lowest paid on their 15 player roster is Calvin Booth who is forced to get by on $1,147,533.  How about putting a guy in charge of 15 millionaires, most of whom are still “working” at the first full-time job they’ve ever had.  My former boss, mentor and friend, George Raveling, used to say his goal in life was to get fired as an NBA coach.  You live off what they owe you (usually millions) and don’t have to put up with a bunch of (mostly) spoiled, ungrateful kids, many of whom are known for complaining when they don’t get what they want (usually playing time).  Each thinks he’s deserving of his salary - and more.

Wonder if any of them have a coat or some canned goods to donate?  In the words of Thomas Fuller:

“He whose belly is full believes not him whose is empty.”