Holley: Bird Must Apologize To Gaston

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

Holley employs an interesting literary style in this column.


Sorry situation for owner 


By Michael Holley, Globe Staff, 5/23/2000 


You don't know me, but can I talk to you for a few minutes? You look
like a sports fan. Most important, you look like a sports fan who is
capable of listening. That's exactly what I need right now. A good
listener. I need your wise and compassionate ear as I try to figure out
a way to do business with Larry Bird.


What's that? You want to know if I know Larry? Dude! Not only do I know
him; he used to work for me. My name is Paul Gaston. I am the owner of
the Boston Celtics. At this time of year, I always find myself wishing
that the NBA had one of those probe-the-psyche talk shows for owners.
I've got issues.


The streets of my brain contain Big Dig chaos. I hate this. The more I
watch the NBA playoffs, the more apparent it becomes that I need to do
something. Real fast. Larry is in position to win a championship. The
Lakers are in position to win a championship (even though we were
lottery roommates in 1994). Pat Riley would be in championship position
if his team hadn't bricked its free throws the other day. The Knicks
could win the championship, too.


And then there are my Celtics. The players and their despotic coach -
yeah, I said it - are off somewhere spending my money. Kenny Anderson is
the only guy I've seen on national TV. He was in Secaucus, N.J., Sunday,
sitting there as the New Jersey Nets won the lottery. Yeah. Jersey. The
same team that stole the concept of our parquet floor also stole the No.
1 pick in next month's draft.


Do you realize how long it's been since my team has had a winning
season? The last time we won more games than we lost, a guy named Pervis
Ellison averaged 17.4 points, 8.8 rebounds, and 2.4 assists for
Washington.


That was in 1992-93, my first year as owner. Two years later, a reporter
quoted me as saying, ''I think we know our team stinks.'' I'll be honest
with you. I'd love to revise that quote now and equip it with some
expletives. I hired a guy, Rick Pitino, whom I expected to show us the
new Red Auerbach. He showed us the new Red, all right: Jersey Red, his
friend and fraternity chef from UMass.


I gave Pitino a $50 million coaching contract. You hear me, pal? Fifty.
Million. Dollars. Based on the cash I'm handing out vs. the cash I'm
taking in, I think our team is ... Hey, what's that you're drinking? I
suddenly need one as well. Yo, bartender!


Look, excuse me for being so presumptuous, but I know what you're
thinking. You want me to sell the team to Larry. Boston loves Larry.
More than Cooz, Russ, Ted, Nomar, Pedro, and - you're going to argue
with me on this one - more than Bobby. If I sold the team to Larry
today, more people would talk about that than Pedro's start against the
Blue Jays.


But this is complicated. I don't appreciate the way Larry disrespected
me a few months ago. He said I was in the business for the money. He
said my business plan sounds like that of the Clippers. ''The reason
they're in the state they're in is because of the owner,'' Larry said
about me in February.


I know he still wants to buy the team. I've heard it from several
people. He thinks he has the money and vision to turn this thing around.
He is in the last year of his Indiana contract and will be a free agent
at the conclusion of these playoffs. Maybe he does have the loot and the
insight. But he needs a few more things.


Not to be petulant here, but he needs to apologize to me. I could gain
more than I lose by selling the team, but you have to remember that I
don't have to sell. No one is foreclosing on the Celtics. I'm being
fair, right? You can't let a man dog you in front of millions of people
and then take your team without contrition.


Next, Larry should think about how much money he is willing to spend.
The pathetic Vancouver Grizzlies, a team that loses $20 million a year,
were sold for $160 million to a Chicago billionaire named Michael
Heisley. The Dallas Mavericks, a team that was born in 1980, was sold
for $280 million to Internet billionaire Mark Cuban.


I own the Boston Celtics. We are known for 16 title banners, the
parquet, and Red (the legendary coach, not the legendary cook). How much
do you think I'm going to demand for my team? $300 million? Please.
Nothing below $350. And that's a discount.


What happens if the Bird-owned Celtics continue to plod along in a 30-
to 37-win speed zone? Then Bird will have twerps like Holley yelling
that there needs to be a change in ownership. Holley. Hmmph. What a
sucker. I'll bet that little 5-foot-8-inch, bony-legged gnat can't even
touch the net.


What's that? Yes. You're right. This is the best time to sell. The game
has changed, the players have changed, and the owners are changing with
them.


Look at Cuban. He's 41. He owns a $16 million mansion. After receiving
an e-mail from a fan who said he couldn't see the shot clock from
Reunion Arena's cheap seats, Cuban spent $10,000 for three-sided shot
clocks. The guy also sent a limousine to pick up his players before one
game. Can you imagine if I did that for Pervis? The limo driver would
have a Chris Rock CD playing, Perv would start laughing hysterically,
pull his hamstring, and go on the injured list.


Anyway, I know the NBA would love to have Larry, Michael, and Magic back
together. As owners. Frankly, I would like to see Larry running things
in Boston. I want to do business with him, even though he has been so
disrespectful to me.


I'd like to sit in my house in late spring and root for the playoff
Celtics. I'd like to root for Larry The Owner. Believe me, this could
all come together quickly. There's only one hurdle. Larry is going to
have to apologize.