Going To Extremes Over The Lockout

[Way Of The Ray <wayray@ix.netcom.com>]

       NBA woes keep Rufus on the roof
       
       Last updated 11/13/1998, 09:05 a.m. MT

       By Lee Benson
       Deseret News columnist

             Rufus has been on the hotel roof now for 17 days.
       You're riding out the NBA lockout your way. Rufus is
       riding it out his.
             Immediately below him are the luxurious 18th floor
       concierge-level rooms of the Doubletree Hotel. Above him are Mars
       and Jupiter. With no stars nightly at the Delta Center, this is
       what's left: camping out in the middle of downtown Salt Lake inside
       a tarp that says KBULL95. On an abandoned helicopter pad.
             "The players have Billy Hunter to represent them," says Rufus,
       "the owners have David Stern . . . "
             He lowers the ski hat tighter around his ears as his voice
       rises to a crescendo.
             ". . . the fans have me."

             SO YES, it's come to this. The NBA lockout has transformed a
       25-year-old radio producer/NBA freak into a hotel roof-dweller,
       bound and determined to stay there until the labor impasse ends and
       life once again becomes worth living.
             The good news: he gets paid. The bad news: it gets cold up
       there. Why couldn't he have liked baseball, or surfing?
             The whole thing started one morning at the radio station when
       they were discussing promotions and publicity gimmicks and naturally
       the talk turned to the NBA lockout. Somebody suggested a sort of
       Gandhi-style, sleep-in type fan statement, and Rufus, a diehard
       basketball fan since he was 10, volunteered.
             The roof of the Doubletree was selected, which is off limits
       to the general public. Appropriate for radio, don't you think? It's
       impossible to actually see "Rufus on the Roof" unless you're in a
       helicopter, an eastbound airliner or riding in on a snowstorm across
       the Great Salt Lake.

             ANYONE who listens to KBULL knows he's up there. Rufus does
       on-air remotes all the time, soliciting donations for the Utah Food
       Bank (the official roof charity), passionately calling for the
       return of NBA hoops and talking about the weather.
             Up there on the roof, he can really see what's rolling in.
       That big storm that hit this past Tuesday? Rufus saw it coming like
       a Shaq dunk. He called the radio station with this update: "It's
       crossing the lake . . . it will be here in 20 minutes . . . look
       out!"
             Sometimes people honk from down below on West Temple. "Attaboy
       Rufus!" they yell, "Stay warm!" On Halloween night a big party
       across the way at the American Towers condominiums called for Rufus'
       appearance like he was Mark McGwire. He emerged from his two-man
       dome tent and waved. The crowd roared.
             KBULL listeners bring him gifts and leave them in the lobby.
       The essentials: food, clothes, bottles of propane. One listener sent
       up a box of Stephen King novels. Great, thought Rufus, until it got
       dark. He has since switched to Kurt Vonnegut.
             Jazz center Greg Ostertag and his wife paid Rufus a visit this
       past Wednesday. They brought him some cookies and a warm coat. Hard
       to tell if that was a good sign or a bad sign — getting a real warm
       winter coat from a locked-out NBA player.

             RUFUS' girl friend, Lisa, brings him dinner and watches
       satellite TV with him. Then she goes home. Does she think he ought
       to come down? Of course she does. Is he going to? Of course not.
             Rufus (real name: Ric Miller) falls asleep at night playing
       over and over in his mind the last NBA action he, or anyone else,
       saw in the Delta Center — Michael Jordan nailing his
       dagger-to-the-heart jump shot that beat the Jazz for the NBA title
       last June.
             It's not right, he says, to have that as the final memory of
       NBA activity in this NBA town. It's high time to make some new
       memories, says Rufus on the Roof. No pun intended. And he's staying
       put until that happens. They're acting like babies, he says of both
       the NBA owners and players, and until they come to their senses and
       come back down to earth, well, neither is he.