NYT profile on NBA refs

[Hironaka <j.hironaka@unesco.org>]

    This article, from the weekend's NY Times Sunday Magazine, is
definitely informative and offers a fairly balanced look at the NBA
zebras. I guess it is not really Celts related, except for a few Danny
Ainge quotes. Sorry also for the length, but you have to subscribe
(free) to the NYT site to read their articles and that can be a hassle
if you haven't already done so. Go Celts!

p.s. Pat Ewing says the result tonight is going to be different. Both
teams are going to be equally fired up. This definitely qualifies as a
big game, and I hope the Celtics fans are loud and supportive tonight.

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The Rise of the Robo-Ref
By BEN YAGODA
Copyright NYT Co.

It's 1 o'clock on a crisp December afternoon, and in his San Antonio
hotel room, Danny Crawford, an N.B.A. referee, has assembled his crew.
Michael Smith, a seven-year vet, flew in a few hours earlier from
Memphis; Jim Clark, a silver-haired veteran, has driven from his home in
Austin. The Knicks and the Spurs will take the court in six and a half
hours, but the refs are already on the job.

The league issues each of its 60 refs a portable Sony VCR and requires
them to tape all games they work, so that, in the relative calm of
airplanes and hotel rooms, they can review their performances. Right
now, Crawford's Sony is playing the latest edition of a kind of "great
and not-so-great moments in officiating" video that the N.B.A. puts
together and sends to refs every month or so. Clark reclines on the
extra bed; Smith sits in the chair; and Crawford, a trim 47-year-old,
leaps up and down to work the controls. The video shows a series of
sticky calls, including instances of an offensive foul, a moving screen,
a defensive foul on a screen, a forearm to the back on a part of the
floor where this is not allowed and a push-off on an entry pass.

"Tonight, we'll get a lot of this," Crawford says, jumping up to
freeze-frame the play. "New York is small; San Antonio is big. New York
will try to front on defense. We have to make sure San Antonio doesn't
try to push off."

"If the lob comes, the defender must allow the offensive guy room to
land," adds Smith.

Crawford: "That's three potential calls on one play -- a push-off on the
offense, a hold on the defense or a foul on the weak-side defender."
(The weak side is the side of the court the ball is not on.)

The N.B.A. also gives its refs I.B.M. Thinkpads, and after the video
session, the three men gather round Crawford's laptop. Logging on to a
secure Web site, they scan the reports that other officiating crews have
submitted: a paragraph listing some notable calls and giving colleagues
heads-ups on teams' or players' tendencies. Every day the league's
supervisor of officials, Ed Rush, uploads footage of a couple of tricky
or problematic plays, and the refs are asked to play their own version
of "you make the call." Today, on the first, everybody agrees that a
weak-side defender commits a foul by not giving an offensive player time
to catch the ball. In the other, a shot is deflected by one defensive
player, then the ball is pinned against the backboard by another
defender. Smith and Clark say it's goaltending and two points; Crawford
thinks it's a no-call.

As the multimedia show winds down, conversation turns to the demands of
the profession -Paul Bunyanish tales of refs' travels through rain, snow
and dark of night to get to games. Crawford says he was just talking to
a college-referee friend who drove from Indiana to Ohio to ref a game
for $125. He got home at 4:45 a.m. and had to leave for his day job an
hour later.

As big-league refs, these guys have it a little better, but not much.
They're paid well -- a first-year referee makes $82,000 a year; veterans
top out at $282,000, postseason pay not included -- but the lifestyle is
a grind: most of the hassles and the pressure of being a professional
athlete and none of the glory or frills, plus lousier hours. Refs also
have to meet after games to dissect their work, and tonight Crawford,
Smith and Clark won't finish until past midnight. Regulations dictate
that they must be on the "first flight out" if they're scheduled to work
a game the next day, so Smith has booked a 6:30 a.m. plane to Dallas
tomorrow morning. Crawford is working the Dallas game, too, but,
exercising veteran privilege, won't take off till 8:05.

Smith, standing up to head to his room for a nap, says, "One of my
supervisors once told me, 'The only time you're late or miss a game, you
died.' "

"And show the obituary," Clark adds.

f all the major sports, it is basketball in which officials have the
most leeway in determining the flow and outcome of the game. A base
runner is either safe at first or he's out. A defensive lineman hits the
quarterback late or he does not. But what is a foul? This sounds like a
Zen koan, and it is as difficult to answer. The league rule book says,
"A personal foul is illegal physical contact which occurs with an
opponent after the ball has become live." In the context of a basketball
game, that could be just about anything.

This season, referees have found themselves in the spotlight more than
usual, mostly because of the antics of Dallas Mavericks' owner, Mark
Cuban. A bitter and vocal critic of the league's officiating ever since
he bought the team last year, Cuban has been inventing new ways of
acting out. Once he had the replay of a blown call freeze-framed on the
scoreboard during a game. The N.B.A. docked him $250,000 for that stunt,
and while nearly everybody around the league agrees he was out of line,
there is lingering discontent that games are not called consistently
enough.

The complaint is not new. The conventional wisdom has traditionally
depicted refs as exercising double standards -- cutting slack to home
teams and superstars on the one hand, nursing vendettas on the other.
But the room for subjective interpretation of the rules has been
shrinking since Darell Garretson took over as supervisor of officials in
the early 1980's. Garretson wanted to make dead certain that a foul in
Denver would be a foul in New York would be a foul in Los Angeles.
Although conspiracy theories to the contrary linger, he also stressed
that no advantage would be given to star players or teams from major
media markets. In the pre-Garretson era, N.B.A. refs -- people like Earl
Strom, Joe Gushue and Mendy Rudolph -- were known for their colorful
personalities. Garretson instructed his charges to limit their
interactions with players and coaches, not to mention fans, dancers and
mascots. (Steve Javie is still remembered for ejecting Hoops, the
Washington Bullets' mascot, during a 1991 game.)

"Darell's idea was for officials to be efficient in a quiet but strong
way," says Rush, a longtime ref who succeeded Garretson as supervisor in
1998. "The idea is that when the game is over and you see the crew walk
off the floor, you say, 'Who was that?' "

One of Garretson's most important changes was raising the number of refs
working a game from two to three, which eliminated on-court blind spots.
Last season, the screws were tightened further with stricter definitions
of fouls. Their main purpose was to counter a long decline in scoring
and the perception that brute strength had become a more essential
basketball skill than quickness and agility. Many basketball observers
believe that rougher, sloppier play has contributed to the game's recent
drop in popularity.

Under the new system, Danny Crawford has become the top-rated referee in
the National Basketball Association, according to the league's internal
ranking system. There is nothing remotely colorful about Crawford,
unless you count his obsession about getting a haircut every week. When
pressed to name a hobby, he says he spends a fair amount of time
following his tech stocks on CNBC. Despite his 16 years of experience
and his stature -- he has been chosen to work each of the last six
N.B.A. finals -- even some knowledgeable fans draw a blank when his name
is mentioned.

But his professional colleagues, including coaches and players, know him
as one of the best in the league. Allan Houston of the Knicks says: "As
a player, you can talk to him. You respect him, he'll respect you." On
one occasion he made what Houston thought was a bad illegal defense
call. "I asked him about it," Houston says, "and he said, 'My fault,
Allan.' "

Crawford probably learned many of his people skills growing up one of
nine children in a Chicago family. After playing point guard at
Northeastern Illinois University, he got into refereeing high-school
games, earning his living as a phys-ed teacher and a record-company
salesman. (Below the N.B.A. level, all referees have day jobs.) He moved
up to college ball and was tapped for the N.B.A. in 1984, becoming one
of a handful of African-American referees. Today, roughly a third of the
league's refs are black, and in 1997 the league hired two female
referees, the first in any major men's sport.

Crawford joined the league at a time when refereeing's star system was
waning but still potent enough to make life hard for a rookie. "Players
and coaches never complained to the star ref; they would come at the new
guy," Crawford says. "My first year, I was working a game in Atlanta
with Earl Strom, and the coach kept complaining to me about Earl's
calls. I said to the coach, 'Why don't you have some courage and
complain to Earl?' After the game I told Earl what I had said. He told
me: 'Young fella, I've earned that respect. One day you'll have it.' "

"At the time I didn't think that was fair," Crawford says with a smile.
"Now I agree with it."

he referees' dressing room at the san Antonio Alamodome is guarded by
two security men; a sign with the N.B.A. logo warns of dire consequences
for anyone who violates the chamber's sanctity. Inside, Clark, Smith and
Crawford are still talking about the game ahead.

Crawford is especially concerned about illegal defense -- a set of
arcane violations, now being reconsidered, that have been codified over
the years to force teams to play man-to-man defense rather than a zone.
It's supposed to increase scoring, but it's an awkward rule and
difficult to enforce. "Both teams are going to isolate on offense to
expose the illegal defense," he says. "On defense, New York is going to
put a guy at the free-throw line. We've got to make sure he's legal."

Each ref has set up his VCR to a single monitor to tape the game. They
put on their uniforms, stretch, touch up their shoes with black
shoeshine. Crawford, who has significant biceps, drops to the ground and
does 30 push-ups. A production assistant comes in to fit Crawford with a
wireless microphone. In an attempt to spike sluggish ratings, the TV
networks now put a mike on one referee in all nationally televised
games.

Ed Rush arrives a few minutes before tipoff. He lives in Phoenix but
spends much of the season traveling around, watching over his refs. He
is a big, loquacious, bespectacled man, who in his day had a reputation
as an enthusiastic dispenser of technical fouls. One ref asks him about
the tricky shot-blocking play from the Web site. "I can't find the thing
in the rule book," he says. "I think it's goaltending -- it's got to be,
if the ball has a chance of going to the basket."

Rush rehearses a few fine points on illegal defenses. Then the crew
squeezes into a waiting golf cart for the short ride to the court. Rush
looks over at the three VCR's and notices that only two of them have a
picture on the screen. He inspects the machines more carefully and
smiles. "Danny's got his on a timer program," he says. "He's a little
smarter than most."

Going to an N.B.A. basketball game and watching referees instead of
players is a disconcerting experience. The refs stand surprisingly and
eerily still. Crawford keeps his feet planted, contorting himself from
the waist up to get the best view of the action. In the course of an
offensive set, his whistle works his way from the middle of his mouth to
one side.

Under the system designed by Garretson and still in place, the three
officials stand in designated positions. One, the "lead," is under the
basket on the same side of the floor as the ball. The "trail" stands on
the same side, near the offensive player farthest away from the basket,
and the "slot" is near the sideline on the other side of the floor (the
"weak side"), roughly halfway between the lead and the trail. If the
ball moves to the other side of the floor, the lead crosses to the other
side, the slot becomes the trail and the trail becomes the slot. They
move strikingly slowly, so as not to disrupt their concentration; only
when the ball changes hands do they run, and sometimes sprint, to the
other basket, where the lead and trail trade positions and the slot
remains slot.

Concentration is crucial. "The first step is getting the external stuff
out -- the cameras and the fans and the noise," Crawford says. "Then you
concentrate on plays. You break it down. Each time down the floor, I'm
making a point to turn my concentration up for 24 seconds."

Another odd thing is that, while a play is unfolding, the referees do
not look at the ball. Unlike their counterparts in college ball, N.B.A.
refs are trained to watch the defensive player. That gives them a good
view of fouls but, as Crawford acknowledges, makes them prone to miss
offensive violations, like palming and taking a quick step before a
dribble.

The early minutes of the New York-San Antonio game are strikingly free
of fouls. At one point, Crawford, his view somewhat blocked by a New
York player, calls a foul on San Antonio off the ball. Sitting in the
lower section of the stands, Rush makes a note on his small yellow legal
pad and says, "I think Danny got fooled on that one."

Taking advantage of its superior size, San Antonio cruises to a 10-point
lead and maintains it for most of the half. During the battle for the
rebound of a free throw, Chris Childs elbows a San Antonio player,
W.W.F.-style, and Mike Smith calls a flagrant foul, meaning the Spurs
will get free throws and the ball. "That'll be a halftime look," Rush
says.

Soon afterward, Crawford calls a ball out of bounds off David Robinson's
knee. At the other end of the court, a New York defender blocks
Robinson's shot; his body language screams foul. The very next play,
Crawford calls a blocking foul on Robinson. When the San Antonio center
erupts with outrage, Crawford calls a technical foul, the referee's
ultimate equalizer.

When the half ends, with San Antonio up 51-41, Rush joins the refs in
their locker room. He quickly rewinds one of the VCR's so that they can
watch the flagrant foul and the Robinson technical. Huddled around the
monitor, they can clearly see Childs's transgression. "Good flagrant,"
Rush tells Smith.

On the Robinson sequence, there is general agreement that the blocking
foul on Robinson was solid. "That was the easiest call I made -- how can
I not call a foul on that?" Crawford asks. The technical was legit as
well. But the no-call on New York that preceded it was borderline and
helps explain the reaction of Robinson, who normally has the demeanor of
an elder statesman. "I'll go tell David that I looked at all the plays
on tape, and there were two tough ones," he says.

As they leave for the second half, Rush says: "New York is going to
fight and scratch. Stay with Thomas; he's the enforcer type." (He's
referring to Kurt Thomas, a Knick forward.) He pauses. "The machines are
on. Let's go to work."

In the third quarter, despite being called for a large number of touch
fouls, New York manages to hang around, helped by the standout defensive
work of Luc Longley, the little-used substitute center. With nine
minutes to go in the fourth quarter, the Knicks take their first lead of
the game. They hold on to it. With 8.6 seconds left, they have a
three-point lead and the ball. Allan Houston is surrounded by San
Antonio players. It looks as if a foul might be called, but Jim Clark
whistles a jump ball, giving San Antonio a legitimate chance to tie. But
the Knicks retain possession, and as the buzzer sounds they sprint off
the court with a victory. Right behind them are the three refs, who grab
their warm-up jackets and jump into the waiting golf cart.

n hour later, Michael Smith has turned the executive-level lounge back
at the hotel into a video viewing room. Crawford, Clark and Rush arrive
and watch the game -- some plays three or four times, in slow motion,
then on fast-forward through the rest of it. Despite their boss's
presence, the refs show no defensiveness; by the end of the first half,
they have fingered three calls they agree they missed. When the
technical foul on Robinson comes up, Crawford says: "I talked to David
about it at the start of the second half. He was fine with it."

Rush pulls out his laser pointer and talks about his desire for "an
active whistle in the slot" and some other fine points of positioning --
the term of art is "mechanics." His main criticism, however, relates to
"game management," the other significant element of the craft. He thinks
both Knicks Coach Jeff Van Gundy and Spurs Coach Gregg Popovich should
have been hit with technical fouls for their incessant yelling.
"Popovich was making a jumping motion like he was challenging you," Rush
says to Crawford.

When they look at the last play of the game -- Allan Houston's getting
tied up with seconds to go -- Clark says, "I was expecting to call a
foul, but it was a jump ball."

Crawford nods and says: "The worst thing you can have in this league is
a quick whistle. You have to have the air in your belly, so you can
catch it before it comes out. If it's up in your throat, you can't catch
it. I always ask myself, 'Where's the air?' "

It's 12:10 a.m. Smith hurries back to his room for some sleep. Crawford
still has work to do. He goes back to his room to write up the game
report and post it on the Web.

pinions differ as to whether the new corporate model of officiating
produces better results than the freewheeling style of yore. Danny
Ainge, who ended a long career as a player in 1995, became coach of the
Phoenix Suns and is now a color analyst for Turner Sports, laments the
passing of an era when players had to study and learn the refs' quirks,
the way they had to master the way the ball bounced off the parquet at
Boston Garden. "Now the refs are like robots," he says. "And they're
still not consistent."

Mark Cuban, the excitable owner of the Mavericks, says that that is
unacceptable. "In business there's the concept of 'Six Sigma' -- the
reduction of mistakes to six per million," he says. "That's what we need
in the N.B.A. It's not that most of the refs don't try to do the best
job possible -- it's just that they'll never eliminate human error until
they approach it on a qualitative rather than quantitative basis." Cuban
says he has been collecting data on individual referees' "tendencies"
and will release the figures when they are "statistically valid."

But should the human factor be so completely eliminated from
officiating? The Hall of Fame center and NBC commentator Bill Walton is
known for his biting critiques on the air, but he is positively glowing
on the subject of referees. Compared to when he started as a player, he
says, the quality of refereeing has gotten "infinitely" better. "They do
a phenomenal job under incredible pressure. This is the fastest game,
with some of the smartest guys, who are constantly playing Fool the Ref.
I would like to see them allow a little more of the personalities of
refs to come into play. Basketball is a game of people."

After the Dallas game -- a blowout by the host Mavericks over the
Chicago Bulls -- Crawford squeezes in three days with his wife and two
kids at his home in the Chicago suburbs. Then he leaves on a brutal
stretch of 10 games in 19 days, including one on the night after
Christmas and another on New Year's Eve.

The first game of the trip is a high-profile match-up: the defending
champion Los Angeles Lakers versus the Portland Trailblazers. The game
is Crawford's first encounter this season at Portland, whose Rasheed
Wallace, a highly skilled player with a hair-trigger temper, set a
record by being called for 38 technical fouls last season. In a playoff
game, he even got one for aggressively staring at a ref.

"I can see why Rasheed gets that many T's," Crawford says the next day.
"He's always involved in every call that's made. When things are going
well, he's involved but not nasty." Crawford doesn't say what happens
when things aren't going well. He doesn't have to.

He goes on. "One time on the free-throw line, I said to him, 'I know
you're going to be a referee.' "

"He said: 'No damned way. It's too hard.' "

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Ben Yagoda is the author of "About Town: The New Yorker and the World It
Made."