Jack’s Blog

What’s in vogue in today’s world is finding a topic that’s of interest to a large contingent of people and complaining about it.  Professional all-star games fit nicely into this category.  An earlier blog dealt with the cynics’ observations regarding the NFL Pro Bowl.

That event was played the week prior to the Super Bowl and before a sold-out stadium, unlike past Pro Bowls held in Hawaii.  Now the criticism shifts to the NBA.  The dunk contest is stale and needs to be shelved for a few years is one of the complaints.  The three point shooting contest doesn’t really give us the league’s best shooter, just a guy who happens to be hot on that particular day is another comment making the talk radio rounds.  And as for the games themselves (rookies vs. sophs, as well as the actual All-Star game), the defense played is of the brother-in-law variety, not the gritty, in your face D that the pros are capable of.

As far as the dunk contest, to be honest, I didn’t watch it - making it the umpteenth consecutive year I’ve passed on it.  I think the last one I watched was when Harold Miner, who played for us at USC, was entered and won it.  Something of that familiarity is what it would take to get me to sit and witness something that doesn’t particularly appeal to me.  However, I did see the highlights and if anyone dares say that the dunks performed by the finalists (DeMar DeRozan, also from SC) and the winner (for the third consecutive year, Nate Robinson) were anything but stale.  If anything, the contest was awash in controversy as DeRozan completed some acrobatic, incredible athletic throw-downs.

Many said Robinson was awarded the championship only because he’s so little.  Hey, the basket’s 10 feet in the air.  That means he has to jump higher.  Doesn’t matter, counter the “dunk purists,” the winner should be the contestant who performs the best dunks.  The contest was entertaining and stimulated controversy - in a good way - so, mission accomplished.

Watching the three-point shooting event (once again only the highlights version for me) go down to the last shot - which Stephen Curry missed, making Paul Pierce the winner, was good theatre.  For the record, the last one of these I cared about was the famous Larry Bird #1 sign, given even before the ball went through the hoop.  The runner-up was Dale Ellis, who starred for Tennessee when I was an assistant at UT.  The point is, while it might not have been “must-see TV,” it was good competition.  And as for the remark that the winner is the guy who happens to be hot on that day, I can only respond with, “Duh.  That’s what three point shooting is.”

The other events, e.g. the skills and H.O.R.S.E. competitions, the celebrity game and even the rookies-sophs and the All-Star game itself isn’t supposed to be “down and dirty.”  It would probably be better to view All-Star game weekend as Carl Sagan defined basketball:

“It’s a game of finesse, a coordination of intellect and athleticism, of harmony of mind and body.  It’s the synthesis in sport of intelligence, precision, courage, audacity, anticipation, teamwork, elegance and grace.”  (Throw in trash talking and Sagan’s quote is up-to-date).

While I was watching the NBA draft yesterday, for some reason, I was reminded of the one in 1983.  I was an assistant coach at the University of Tennessee and our best player that year was Dale Ellis.  Entering his senior year at UT, Dale was a consensus All-American, based on his stellar play the previous years, with the most impressive statistic being that he made an unheard of 66% (UT record) of his shots as a junior.

The three point line had yet to be incorporated into the collegiate game.  Our head coach, Don DeVoe (recently inducted into the UT Hall-of-Fame), had the philosophy of pounding the ball inside.  We employed a two in (post players), three out (perimeter players) offense and Dale was one of our posts.  When we didn’t have a fast break opportunity, we ran set plays, the majority of which were to get a high percentage shot (the shot clock hadn’t been introduced at the college level either), usually for one of our posts.

The basketball coach during my college days was Richie Buckelew.  By 1983, he’d become a scout for the Atlanta Hawks.  Following one of our SEC games, he saw me said that I was going to be shocked when he told me what position Dale would play in “the league.”

I didn’t want to look like I had no knowledge of the pro game, so I said to him, “I know - small forward,” ready for him to praise me for my evaluation skills.

“No,” he said. “2 guard.”

During our season, we had broken the players into groups to work with before practice actually got under way.  Dale had been in my group all year and I had told any scout who asked about his range that Dale could easily go out to 18′ and, in fact, that’s where most of our pre-practice shooting spots were.  Never did I think that our center, and for all intents and purposes, that’s the position Dale played for us, could make the transition to second guard in the NBA - and be able to shoot three’s from five feet further out!

Dale’s ballhandling and passing skills were adequate and, while he was an outstanding post defender, mainly because he was so much quicker than nearly all of the big guys he guarded and he had excellent anticipation, there was no way I ever thought he could guard an NBA 2 guard. 

Dale had another great season (capped off by playing to his fourth straight NCAA tournament) and when draft day came, he was being lauded as a Top 10 pick.  The NBA draft was nowhere near the spectacle it is now, but, even though there wasn’t the hype, none of us were disappointed when he was selected ninth by the Dallas Mavericks.

When Dale returned in the summer to finish his degree (a promise he made - and kept - to his mother, i.e. that he’d get his degree), he came by my office.  His mood was nothing short of doom and gloom.  He said how disappointed he was that he’d play great in practices, but when game time came around, he seldom got in.  What made it more frustrating was that, on the occasions he did manage to get quality time, he played very well, e.g. there was a game in which he came off the bench to score 18 - but, that performance was followed by the five most dreaded letters a players can see by his name in a box score: DNP-CD, standing for “Did Not Play - Coach’s Decision.” 

Incidentally, for a couple more intriguing and insightful Dale Ellis stories, purchase a copy of my book, Life’s A Joke for only $10 (I’ll pay the S&H).  Send a check to: Life’s A Joke 365 Sandpiper Ct. Fresno, CA 93730.  

Dale once told me he trusted (that was the word he used) me because I would always give it to him straight.  After hearing his stories about not playing (even though I could see it was really bothering him), I said, “Gee, Dale, it sounds like you’re miserable and you’re really getting screwed.  Why don’t you quit and just get another job that pays you a quarter of a million dollars?” (which was what the ninth pick got back then and isn’t nearly what today’s guys are making, but still is a heckuva lot more than I’m pulling down - 26 years later!

The corners of his mouth turned up, just a little, into one of those “OK, you got me” smiles, and he said, fully understanding my point, “Nah, I think I’ll stick with this line of work.”

I then told him that I had talked to his agent because I, in fact, had been following him through the agate (small print in the sports section, e.g. box scores) and had seen exactly what he’d been complaining about.  His agent told me that one thing he could be thankful for was that, while their coach, Dick Motta, indeed, did not like playing rookies, the Mavs’ organization was not known as one of those that was vindictive, and if they could make a move to better themselves - and a disgruntled player who, for whatever reasons did not fit into their plans - they would move him.

Sure enough, after Dale’s second year with the Mavs, he was traded to Seattle for former UNC star, Al Wood.  Dale flourished in that system, making the NBA All-Star team, before ultimately spending 17 years in the NBA and, when he retired, left as the all-time leader for made three-pointers.  He’s since dropped to third behind Reggie Miller and Ray Allen. 

The morale of the story is, unless you are Michael Jordan, Kobe Bryant, Larry Bird, Shaquille O’Neal, Magic Johnson, or a can’t miss player (and although he’s far and away the best player available in this draft, I’m not sure I’d even consider Blake Griffin a can’t miss player), the key to your success is . . . are you and what you bring to the franchise a good match for the team that selects you?  If so, you’re fortunate and will most likely enjoy a long and profitable career.  If not - and remember, the higher a player gets picked, usually, the worse a team he goes to, so slipping several spots might just land you on a pretty good team - one which can use the skill set you have and not need you to do more than you are physically - and mentally - equipped to take on.  

There was a story in Sports Illustrated (4/28/08 edition) on Peyton Manning and how, during his initial meeting with the Colts’ coach Jim Mora and its GM, Bill Polian, he said to them, “I’d really like to come here if you want me.”  The true football fan will recall that the year Manning was to be drafted, there was a great debate (as ridiculous as it seems now) as to which player deserved to be the overall number one pick in the draft (with everyone knowing the other would go number two), Manning or Ryan Leaf from Washington State?  Obviously, Peyton felt strongly about his ability, since he continued - and I can’t say I remember anyone else possessing the stones to say anything even close:

“But if you don’t, I promise you I’ll come back and kick your ass for the next 15 years.”

There are so many televised college basketball games now, you have to go back quite a ways to remember when there was a Game of the Week.  Then, as now, many of the games that were broadcast concluded with a Player of the Game Award, a scholarship sent to the general fund of that player’s school, to be given to a random, deserving student enrolled at the university.

During the time Dale Ellis played at the University of Tennessee (1979-83), we were selected for one of the prestigious televised contests and Dale had a monster game, earning for himself and the school the Player of the Game Award.  The scholarship that went along with it, I believe, was for $5,000.  After the season concluded, Dale dropped by my office to show me a letter he’d received.

“Coach, you ain’t gonna believe this,” Dale began.  “Wait until you read this letter.”

He handed it over and I read it, while he watched for my reaction.  Apparently, the letter was from the girl who was the recipient of the scholarship.  Along with the check she received, was an explanation that Holly Farms or Chevrolet or whichever company sponsored the prize, had donated the funds for the outstanding play of UT’s Dale Ellis during … (game and date).  Her correspondence went on to say the check represented that much less she had to borrow in student loans and how grateful she was to Dale.  She didn’t know much about basketball but now realized many of the derogatory comments made about college athletics (it was rather evident she associated with some anti-athletics students) were made out of ignorance - this “gift from heaven” being just one of, she felt, many positive contributions athletes made for the school.  She ended by saying she was indebted to Dale and wished him luck in whatever his plans were after college (like I said, she didn’t know much about basketball, since following his senior year, Dale was the 9th player overall to be picked in the ‘83 NBA draft and played 17 seasons in the league).

“Coach, I called my mother and read her this letter.  She told me she was more proud of me for that than anything else I did in basketball.”  Dale had this kind of half-smile when he was amused by something.  I saw one of those creep across his face just before he said, “and all I was trying to do was play a good game.”

It was one of those moments that, unfortunately, don’t happen often enough, but when I think about it now, I recall an similar comment on a much grander scale.  It was the quote by Rosa Parks to a reporter’s question years after she refused to give up her seat on the bus, as the law stated a black person was required to do when confronted by a white.  When asked if she, at the time, realized how much this act of defiance would change the United States and exactly what she was thinking at the time, Ms. Park’s response was:

“All I was trying to do was get home from work.”  �