GM Wallace goes door-to-door

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

         Bob Ryan reports on riding with Chris Wallace as he distributed 
Celtics nets door-to-door. If some of you Beantown locals have a hoop in 
your driveway, you might get a chance to talk to the Celtics GM one of 
these days.

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http://www.boston.com/dailyglobe2/263/sports/Home_courtingP.shtml
BOB RYAN
Home courting
Celtics GM Wallace doubling as door man
By Bob Ryan, Globe Columnist, 9/20/2001
HINGHAM - You're sitting at your dinner table and you hear a knock. The 
odds are reasonably steep you aren't expecting to open the front door and 
find the general manager of the Boston Celtics standing there, holding a 
basketball net.
''You're kidding,'' says Joan Morris. ''You're actually out there doing 
this?''
''Wow!'' exclaims Sue Sullivan. ''To what do we owe the pleasure?''
''What's the occasion?'' inquires Dianne Curtis.
Chris Wallace is on a mission. He is selling Boston Celtics basketball the 
old-fashioned way: door-to-door.
''I got the idea from [former LSU coach] Dale Brown,'' Wallace explains. 
When he started out at LSU, there was no interest at all. Oh, they had that 
little push with Pete Maravich, but by the time Dale took over, it was 
dead. ''He would drive out into the country with LSU nets and little purple 
LSU potholders, and hand them out in order to stir up interest in LSU 
basketball.''
What Chris Wallace does is pick a locale and drive around until he sees a 
backyard basket. Even one of those little kiddie hoops counts. ''I figure 
there must be some basketball interest in that house,'' he says.
If someone is home he says something like this: ''Hi, I'm Chris Wallace, 
general manager of the Boston Celtics. I see you have a basket and I'd like 
to give you a green and white Celtics net. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope 
you'll take a look at our team this year. We are improving, and I think 
we'll be exciting. Hope to see you at the FleetCenter this year.''
Most people are shocked and pleasantly surprised to have the general 
manager of the Boston Celtics standing in their doorway offering them a new 
basketball net. But not everyone. ''There was one guy in Newton who yelled, 
`Don't need one!' and slammed the door,'' Wallace chuckles.
Every once in a while someone simply takes pity on him. ''Having trouble 
selling tickets, huh?'' said one Newtonian.
''Nobody's asking me to do this,'' he explains. ''There's no sense of 
crisis, like we're going down the drain, or anything. But I really believe 
people in sports have got to do something. People are fed up with lockouts, 
walkouts, escalating ticket prices and conduct issues with players. When I 
grew up, there was none of that stuff. I guess what I'm saying is that 
we've got to try to bring that magic back to the games.''
Wallace takes naturally to this salesman routine. Back home in his native 
West Virginia, he spent some time in the 1970s working as a ''field man'' 
for both Republican Congressional and Senatorial candidates. His job was to 
set up appearances for the candidates in such outposts as Keyser, Franklin, 
Davis and Romney.
''I guess they didn't think too much of me,'' he says. ''I think only one 
of those towns had so much as a Pizza Hut. I'd go out on a Monday and come 
back on a Friday, and in none of the towns were there any hotel chains. I'd 
be staying in an `Ed's Motel,' where the switchboard would shut down at 8 
or 9 and I'd be out there with a fistful of quarters working the pay phone.''
There is no rhyme, reason, or method to his travels. On this particular 
occasion he happens to pick the South Shore. What he does not know is that 
this is a certified hockey town, where Garrett Reagan's Hingham High team 
is the defending Division 1 champions.
So in Hingham, therefore, you never know. Spying a hoop in one particular 
driveway, he knocks on the door to discover he has stumbled into the home 
of Andrew Genovese, the captain-elect of the Hingham High hockey team. But 
it's not as if the Genoveses who are present and accounted for - Charlie, 
Diane plus sons Andrew, Matthew, Michael, and Greg - are hoopphobes.
''I have four boys here who have great interest in the Celtics,'' assures 
Charlie Genovese. Daughter Lindsey, absent at the time, makes five.
Some people are so unnerved they hardly know what to say. Some, like Dick 
Amster, are a bit breezier. ''You're not negotiating million dollar 
contracts?'' he kids.
''Nope,'' Wallace says. ''We're done. As they say in a marriage, for better 
or worse, this is our team.''
Amster turns out to be the chairman of the Hingham School Committee. He 
says that if the GM will send out more nets he'll see they get distributed 
throughout the school system. (The next phone call he gets will be from 
Garrett Reagan).
Someone with a backyard hoop not home? No problem. Wallace drops off a net, 
accompanied by a note. ''I couldn't figure out what to put on the 
envelope,'' he says. ''I settled for `Hoop Owner.' The three-paragraph 
missive says the net is a ''small token of Celtics' appreciation for your 
interest in the game of basketball.'' It asks for support by virtue of 
attendance at a game or by following the team via radio or TV. And it 
invites feedback via his e-mail address ( frankb@celtics.com).
''I don't believe we can leave marketing, and I don't mean the Celtics 
specifically, to the marketers,'' Wallace says. ''There is so much more 
competition for the entertainment dollar than ever before. I am also 
concerned about young kids having the connection to teams the way I had 
when I was young. In my family we were all huge fans of the Pittsburgh 
Pirates. [Radio announcer] Bob Prince was practically a family member. We 
only thought of the good of sport, and not the negative. The times have 
changed.''
Wallace enjoys any interaction with fans he can get. After all, he's a fan 
himself. ''I was a fan before I got this job,'' he points out, ''and I'll 
be a fan after I lose it. This is something people think they know 
something about. There are a lot more people out there who think they could 
run a sports team than think they could run an art gallery or direct a 
symphony. And they probably could.''
No matter what you think of the team Chris Wallace has put together, you 
must admit one thing. The guy sure isn't pompous.

Bob Ryan is a Globe columnist. His e-mail address is ryan@globe.com.