Thirty-Three Months not nearly Enough for Donaghy
by Jay Pearlman
Perhaps because of the speed and athleticism of the players, perhaps because of how difficult it is statistically to stop an opponent from scoring, perhaps because it is a game that allows contact but not collision, an awfully tough distinction, perhaps because in this era we’ve all acknowledged that contact is only a foul when it creates advantage, I’ve always thought that basketball is the toughest of the four majors to officiate. Because of that officiating difficulty, perhaps also because loud emotional crowds are shoe-horned into physically small spaces, and certainly because basketball games aren’t so dominated by the better pitcher, goalie or quarterback, basketball is also the game with the most glaring home-court advantage. I never talk point-spreads in this space, but I’m sure those of you who do – and certainly the Vegas folks – can quote the “value” of playing basketball games at home better than I can.
And it’s not just in the NBA. Having recruited high school kids, coached Division III, low-Division I, and “mid-major,” I can tell you that the lower the level, the bigger the advantage is playing at home. Just consider putting your high school freshman team on a school bus, driving five hours, getting off the bus and trying to win, and you understand: no chance.
That said, this is “referee week” in the NBA, Phil Jackson trying to pass Red but mostly screaming about officials, struggling against the ghost of Johnny Most (or is that Tommy Heinsohn’s voice that I hear). The Celtics couldn’t win a single game on the road in Atlanta or Cleveland, did better in Detroit, and hope they aren’t down 3-2 when they next set foot on Causeway Street.
I love the NBA. I coached in college, now I broadcast and write about college ball, know much more about college ball, and follow the CAA, but I love the NBA. Not just the last two minutes like some folks complain, but the whole game; not just the playoffs, but the entire season. And they do guard in the NBA, better than in college in my view. Chuck Daly’s Pistons, Pat Riley’s Knicks and Heat, Michael’s and Scottie’s Bulls, the Pistons the last five years, this year’s Celtics. Even the Phoenix Suns and Dallas Mavericks play hard on defense.
This should have been Kobe’s week, not a week with the headlines dominated by that piece of garbage Tim Donaghy (the end of this week and beginning of next may yet be Kobe’s). No NBA guru, I happen to think that Kobe is now on a level with Michael, defends as well, and may shoot better from deep. What Donaghy did undermines sport to its very core; if sport isn’t played on a level playing field, then it’s not really sport, is it? Just read the signs about gambling in major league locker rooms, listen to Ralph Kiner, who still appears on Mets telecasts (if you can stomach watching the Mets). They’re not supposed to be role models, and I could care less if they used steroids. But gambling on the games…
Let me say it this way. Kobe-Donaghy, Donaghy-Kobe. I’m no expert on NBA players off the court either, but when a young lady finds herself in a millionaire celebrity’s hotel room at 3 o’clock in the morning, she better not be there to play monopoly. Donaghy on the other hand, made a mockery of sport, and 33 months is hardly enough punishment.
I haven’t coached in ten years, but I remember noticing three things back when I did. First, at every level of basketball on which there’s gambling (including Division III on slow Mondays before ESPN tripleheaders), the phone begins to ring in coaches’ offices (assistant coaches’, too) about 3 in the afternoon on game day, and “old friends” whose names we hardly even remember are suddenly incredibly concerned about our point guard’s ankle injury. (In the days before cell phones, such calls were best avoided by nearby girlfriends and shoe shines, sometimes even the racetrack.) Second, outside the top twenty programs in the country, I observed a ton of twenty- and thirty-something assistants with tiny salaries and a litter of kids at home living above their means, with all of that tempting inside information on both their own teams and their opponents. Third, and notwithstanding the preceding observation, it is beyond dispute that if one wanted to affect the outcome of a basketball game, it would be much more effective to “get to” an official than to a player. One or two well-placed phantom calls, one or two swallowed whistles, and an overtime game becomes a blowout. (Remember, the fouls in game two were just 28-21, but the free throws were 38-10. That’s partly attributable to fouls on the perimeter rather than at the goal, but also because marginal fouls – the fifth and beyond in the pros, the seventh in college – merit free throws, while early fouls don’t.)
Now a radio analyst, I know that even though I religiously avoid mentioning point spreads, gamblers in town have long since decided whether or not I know anything, and if I do they’re listening to our pregame (I wish I could convince our sponsors). I want to inform as well as entertain, to “coach” on the radio, but I hate the fact that I’m informing gamblers, and if I’m good they make money. I know it happens. I was late recognizing the quality of Tony Shaver’s William & Mary team last season, and I suspect that cost some Boston area gamblers some money.
What’s interesting to me is that we haven’t heard a peep this week out of a single college official, even though home and away are worth even more in college than in the pros. In part that’s because it’s June, the off-season for everyone associated with the college game. But mostly I think they’re hoping that this storm will pass, that somehow all of the posturing and yelling will be done, without anyone focusing on them, scrutinizing them.
On the whole, the officials I know, this generation of Mickey Crowleys and Reggie Greenwoods, are good, decent and honest people. But like those college assistants with one too many kids and small paychecks, they’re vulnerable, and with all the temptation out there, all the games and all the officials, sooner or later a college version of Tim Donaghy will be revealed. I for one hope it doesn’t happen around me, doesn’t ruin the game for me, doesn’t soil a profession I view as pretty darned admirable, by and large. And the way to deter that is to throw the key away when you sentence Tim Donaghy, rather than complaining about Bonds, and Clemens, and Kobe.
