The Golden Age of Basketball

Chapter 324 Calling the shots
They installed a hidden microphone on me.

That was Game 2 of the 1986 NBA Finals, at Boston Garden, between the Portland Trail Blazers and the Boston Celtics.

This is an absurd world, a place full of inconsistencies and contradictions. We pursue justice and fairness, but we resort to compromise and appeasement.

In my 30 years in the NBA, the league has been trying to eliminate the personalities of referees during games. As I approached retirement, it had reached a point where they were not allowed to give media interviews, chat with fans, or talk to players and coaches off the court.

The competition is everything to us. The referee is like a plug-and-play black box; you plug him in, power him on, and then throw him aside when you're done.

It wasn't like that when I first entered the league. If you wanted to survive in the NBA, you had to show the players and the fans who you were.

I have succeeded to a certain extent; I know how to deal with everyone and handle all sorts of situations.

Now I am tightly wrapped up, bound by all kinds of rules and regulations, and have become a ruthless whistleblower machine. The Alliance wants to suppress any human emotion we have.

So it's perfectly normal for them to want to install a microphone on me; shouldn't a machine have recording capabilities?

I don't care, who cares? I have nothing to hide. Their goal is to capture some details of the game from the referee's perspective so that the media department can make a video feature.

These things later had a great impact, especially when a journalist obtained the information and wrote a major article that was published in USA Today and dozens of newspapers and magazines across the country.

Of course, this article has been edited, but my recording of Game 2 of the Finals on that night in 1986 conveys a sense of being there.

I officiated this game with Hugh Evans (there were only two referees in a game before 1989). He had been in the league for about ten years and was a fairly competent referee, but he was a little nervous that day.

Referees are always a little nervous when officiating games featuring Forrest Gump, because he's a dangerous person.

The substitute referee was Jack O'Donnell, a capable referee, but even if my eyeball fell onto the parquet floor, I wouldn't have asked him for help. (I wonder if his later feud with the Trail Blazers was related to this.)
That night, Boston Garden was packed. The place was reminiscent of an arena in the 50s—dark, dilapidated, and with an old, musty smell on this hot, humid night.

The Celtics are as old as Boston Garden. They are the team with the most NBA championships. They started winning championships when I first joined the league in 1957. They were champions for more than a decade. In the 70s and 80s, I witnessed Russell, Havlicek, and Bird being crowned champions time and time again.

Reid Auerbach sat in a front-of-the-stand position, seemingly an integral part of the historic building, becoming a symbol of the stadium.

Their opponents, the Trail Blazers, are much younger and more fresh and aggressive. They won the first game of the series, which means they will face immense pressure and a furious comeback in the second game.

During the pre-race preparation meeting, we brought up Forrest Gump's issue as usual. He was a dangerous element, but he was not a destabilizing factor.

It sounds contradictory, but that's the truth. Just like those powerful explosives, they are perfectly safe without a fuse; you can burn them or smash them without them exploding.

However, if there is a detonator, its explosive power will be astonishing. What we need to do is prevent the detonator from appearing and prevent anything that could detonate it from being displayed on the field.

The first half went very smoothly. The microphone recorded my casual chat with the players. I told them not to push each other, to reduce unnecessary small movements, to try to maintain the rhythm of the game, and not to commit fouls.

Just before the end of the first half, the Trail Blazers' Drexler broke free of his defender on a fast break, and Dennis Johnson jumped up from behind and knocked Drexler to the ground.

Drexler immediately stood up and started wrestling with Greg Kate—Clyde didn't know who had pushed him, but as soon as he got up and saw Kate, he rushed at her.

Hugh Evans jumped between the two to separate them, yelling, "Enough! Stop!"

I found Forrest Gump immediately and stopped him, telling him not to go any further, as it would only cause more chaos.

As I blocked him, I yelled at the players from both sides who were trying to get onto the field: "Get off the field! Get out!"

I felt like a shepherd. I first controlled the most dangerous lead sheep, then herded the rest together and made them sit down.

The entire stadium chanted "Beat PT".

I called Drexler and Kate together, and I told Clyde that he had attacked the wrong person. At the same time, I warned Kate not to come on stage and try to pull any tricks or become a scapegoat.

I gave them each a technical foul, and if they get another unsportsmanlike foul, they'll be ejected.

Dennis Johnson only received a common foul because in 1986, the league did not have a flagrant foul rule.

When two players are facing off, I usually tell them, "Go for it, I'll get you ejected, and then the GM will fine you until you're pissing your pants. If you want to spend your money like that, then do it, you bunch of idiots."

This would work in most cases; most fights in the league in the 80s were just this kind of shoving and grabbing, rather than real punches and kicks.

When I first joined the league in 1957, the NBA was a basketball league played in hockey arenas run by the founders, who did this to fill the gaps in the hockey offseason.

The league's hockey background makes fans love the raw stuff, and a great fight can liven up the whole night. If Jim Loscutov and Andy Johnson get into a fight, you absolutely can't let them start, because they really can kill each other.

Some fights were incredibly exciting, with two heavyweight boxers charging in from either side, and often you couldn't stop them until one of them was down. In 1964, when Don Nelson was still playing for the Lakers, he fought Tom Hoover against the Knicks. Hoover was so tall and strong that he knocked Nelson to the ground, and Nelson needed three stitches in his mouth.

After the game, Nelson blamed his teammate Dick Barnett in the locker room for not helping him. Barnett replied, "Oh baby, I looked back and you had already won."

Nelson later went to the Celtics.

The league no longer allows players to fight, especially bench players who are not allowed to rush onto the court.

There's only one player in the league who still has the power of a player from the 50s and 60s, and that's Forrest Gump, so I need to control him immediately.

I bet if you put Forrest Gump in the 60s, he would still be one of the best fighters, his wrestling skills would be unparalleled, and he would definitely be a big star at Madison Square Garden.

Back in the game, the Trail Blazers led throughout, and the audience was very anxious. In the third quarter, a fat man in the baseline stand became increasingly arrogant, constantly harassing the Trail Blazers players and referees, and shouting that the referees were biased.

I told the security guard to keep an eye on that fat guy and not let him run onto the field.

Fifteen years ago, I would have hoped he would run onto the court so I could beat him up. I've done it before.

Midway through the third quarter, the Celtics launched a counterattack, constantly closing the gap in the score, and Boston Garden erupted in a frenzy.

The Celtics' outside shooting was very accurate tonight. When Larry Bird took the shot, I could just run to the other side.

But Forrest Gump always responded with hook shots or offensive rebounds, and the Trail Blazers withstood the pressure and maintained their lead.

However, I messed up in a crucial possession in the third quarter. I saw Kevin McHale use his footwork to dodge Thompson's layup under the basket, but Agan blocked his layup and slammed the ball onto the backboard.

The ball seemed to hit the backboard first. I couldn't see it clearly from the baseline angle. Hugh seemed to have blown the whistle, and I followed up with my own whistle because it was too noisy in the arena.

Hugh came over and explained to me that he didn't see it; he didn't know if the ball hit the backboard first. The whole crowd was chanting that the ball went in, and McHale kept making the motion of the ball going in.

I called goalkeeping and ruled the goal valid. It wasn't a difficult decision because it was good for the home team, and the crowd was cheering, including the fat guy on the byline who clapped at me.

But I wasn't happy at all. I thought I made a wrong call. Forrest rushed towards me, and I instinctively dodged backward. He didn't yell at me or hit me. He just seriously told me that the ball didn't touch the backboard first, and that it was a good block.

Forrest Gump is a good man, a true gentleman. He never attacks his opponents first. Although he likes to verbally attack others, he is different from Bird. He doesn't swear, not to vent his anger, but simply to put pressure on his opponents and make the game more competitive.

I didn't handle the fuse well; I became the fuse myself, making Forrest Gump somewhat uncontrollable. Tonight, he played exceptionally well, leaving the Bostonians in despair.

But I couldn't change the call, and then Hugh Evans called a technical foul on Forrest Gump. I knew Evans was trying to protect me and keep Forrest Gump away from me, but the call only made things worse.

Forrest Gump got angry; he was like a lion. In the last game, he destroyed an NBA-level rim and ripped the backboard off the court.

At that moment, I had no doubt that Forrest Gump was capable of ripping my head off and shoving it, along with the whistle, into Evans's ass.

Fortunately, it was the Finals, and Forrest Gump wanted to stay on the court. He restrained himself, and Jack Ramsey substituted him to rest.

The Celtics used the call to tie the game, then made the free throw to take the lead. The Celtics then took control of the game, and their offense became increasingly smooth.

By the fourth quarter, the Celtics' lead had widened to over 8 points. The fat guy on the baseline kept yelling at me, sometimes thanking me, sometimes saying I was an incompetent referee.

I told the security guard, "Do me a favor, bring that guy to my locker room after the game, I want to teach him a lesson."

Of course, I only said that for the sake of the recording effect; I will never do such a thing again, like I did to Dick Bavetta.

The Celtics ultimately won the game, tying the score. After the game, it wasn't the fat guy who appeared at the referee's locker room door, but Forrest Gump.

Hugh Evans was nervous, but I said I was fine. Forrest Gump didn't yell at me, didn't shout, and didn't hit me. He just asked me, "Do you think that ball was goaltending? Tell me the truth, and I won't file a lawsuit with the league."

I honestly replied, "I'm not sure, but I think there was no interference; the ball didn't hit the backboard first."

Forrest Gump nodded and said, "Be more careful when you blow the whistle next time, Earl."

He left, neither angry nor frustrated, because the series wasn't over yet.

—Excerpt from "Calling the Shots," a biography co-authored by Earl Stroom and Brian Johnson, published in 1990.

(End of this chapter)