Shaun Powell: Fans Don't Care

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

Seems to be a common theme these days...

       Newsday - October 29, 1998
       Fans Have Don't-Care Attitude

       Shaun Powell

       ENOUGH WITH the posturing, the weak explanations, the defiant
       back-room shouts from Michael Jordan, the overgrowth on David
       Stern's face, and please, no more shows of solidarity.

       The NBA owners and players just don't get it. If this continues,
       maybe they will.

       They're the ones who are mostly troubled by the shrinking NBA
       season, not everyone else.

       Outside the capacity-filled boardrooms at the NBA office and union
       headquarters, where they're sweating over a prolonged strike or
       lockout or whatever they're calling it today, the rest of the
       world is calm and at peace.

       That's the ultimate insult, isn't it? Instead of seeing or hearing
       a public outcry, the players and owners are getting a far more
       harsher treatment.

       Their little labor fight is being ignored.

       This isn't like the baseball strike of 1994. Quit comparing the
       two. Baseball is the national pastime, part of the American
       fabric, a game you grew up with, a sport affordable to most and
       attended by many. Real fans truly were hurt by the baseball mess,
       which denied them a part of life and a rite of summer.

       But basketball? Most real fans haven't seen a basketball game in
       years.

       They've been shut out by high-priced tickets, luxury suites and
       club seats. The corporations and the elite are filling arenas, not
       the average Joe. Once a game of the streets, basketball has become
       a sport for the rich. And that's why the majority of the public
       isn't carrying picket signs at arenas, calling radio talk shows,
       flooding newspapers with letters or complaining out loud. There
       are no indications that this is happening.

       There's no great allegiance or sympathy for either side, and there
       are very valid reasons for this.

       This is a battle between billionaires and millionaires, each
       screaming about making more money. That, in itself, is a total
       turnoff. No one wants to hear about the woes of the wealthy and
       the sudden changes in their budgets.

       So, because the Trail Blazers aren't selling tickets at the
       moment, Microsoft co-founder and Blazers owner Paul Allen must
       make do with one private Gulfstream IV jet, instead of two.

       So, since they're being locked out, an NBA player (pick one) will
       have to trim that fleet of German automobiles from seven to six,
       wear a custom-made suit more than once a month, forget about
       buying that fifth Rolex and be extra careful not to father another
       child out of wedlock, for fear of more support payments.

       Even the lowest-paid NBA player makes $250,000 which, last we
       checked, makes him quite capable of living a lifestyle beyond the
       reach of most.

       "We know no one is going to feel any sympathy for us," Bulls guard
       Steve Kerr said not long ago, lending a rare voice of reason to
       the labor fight. "We're not going to plead for your sympathy
       because we probably don't deserve it."

       But the quiet protest now being heard goes beyond the money issue
       and the sympathy angle. Those are secondary concerns. Basically,
       no one's crying for a quick return by the NBA because the
       professional game has gotten stale and ragged and too far removed
       from the golden age of the mid-'80s. The league has chosen the
       absolute wrong time to test the patience of the people.

       Player skills have depreciated to the stage at which athletes, not
       shooters or dribblers or passers, are now the majority. Everything
       seems too structured on the court, mostly because coaches are
       either unable or unwilling to be creative. Plays have become
       predictable, scores are down and the amount of bad teams and
       undeveloped talent has gone up.

       Adding to the disenchantment is the influx of players with
       questionable character, who care more about what the game can do
       for them, not what they can do for the game. It's about making
       guaranteed money and getting a sneaker commercial. With some young
       players, it's all about the size of your lifestyle and your
       entourage.

       By canceling the November schedule, the owners did most basketball
       fans a favor. The opening month of a long six-month season hardly
       captures anyone's imagination. The games aren't very meaningful or
       critical in a league in which only the mediocre and truly awful
       fail to make the playoffs.

       Now that he's taking a more visible and active role on the labor
       front, it appears Jordan will play at least another year. Once
       again, he's prepared to bail out the NBA. He'll help save the
       league from the embarrassment of the lockout if the season is
       salvaged.

       That's the best scenario the NBA can hope for right now, because
       barring a new labor contract and a Jordan return, there isn't much
       to prevent the league from falling another notch below the level
       of popularity it enjoyed the last decade.

       The outpouring of sympathy isn't there now. What makes anyone
       believe it'll be there for the NBA later?

       The country is still trying to catch its breath from the best
       baseball season ever. There's no emotional void for the NBA to
       fill right now. The transition from baseball to football is being
       made smoothly without basketball around to bridge the gap.

       So enough with John Feerick and Latrell Sprewell, marijuana and
       booze, Patrick Ewing pretending to be a forceful spokesman and
       owners pretending to care about customers.

       In a labor fight that's being closely monitored by few other than
       the participants, the public doesn't see salary caps, only dunce
       caps, worn by both owners and players.
                               

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