You Herd Me!: I'll Say It If Nobody Else Will (19 page)

Curt Schilling kept a book on umpires. During guest appearances on my show after his career ended, he provided details on how closely he watched umpires to find tendencies that might give him even the smallest edge. He knew that a particular umpire’s habit of adding a couple of inches to the plate with two strikes could be the difference between escaping a rough seventh inning or getting yanked. He pitched to these tendencies.

I found this fascinating on a number of levels. Schilling had no problem telling the world about his scrutiny of umpires. He carried the book around with him and kept it in his locker. He updated it constantly. It became part of Schilling Lore, one of the many aspects of his obsessive preparation. He told me matter-of-factly that this was an understood, totally acceptable part of his game.

The idea that someone might question this probably comes as a surprise.

I asked Schilling: Why is this acceptable? Well, as Schilling said … it just is. Why wouldn’t it be? Referees and officials are human. They are part of the game—often a
big
part. Closely monitored, they can be linked to predictable results that can be used for the player’s benefit. The smart player—pitcher, hitter, offensive tackle—takes advantage of everything he can.

But let me ask you this: Can you imagine the media uproar and widespread cynicism that would greet an NBA player who carried around a book that documented the tendencies of referees?

Imagine this scene: Dwyane Wade, before a playoff game, sitting at his locker with a pen and a notebook, writing, “We have Ed Malloy tonight, and I keep a book on Ed. He has certain tendencies I’m confident I can manipulate to help us win.”

How would that go over?

Oh.

My.

God.

Could you imagine?

Within seconds of those words hitting the airwaves, Wade and the league would be backpedaling faster than the best NFL cornerback.

Why would it be different? Isn’t the hypothetical Wade comment exactly the same as what Schilling told me?

Schilling, smart player.

Wade, smart player.

What’s the big deal?

Simple: the NBA, more than any other sports organization in history, has had the integrity of its officiating questioned.

It’s the same, but it’s not the same.

When the NBA promoted David Stern from executive vice president to commissioner in 1984, it was a dreary league with lots of empty arenas and dwindling star power. Stern energized the NBA by marketing its top stars to a degree never before seen in an American sports league. This marketing push increased ratings and revenue, but it had the unintended consequence of increasing suspicion that the NBA gave its stars—those guys leading the marketing campaign—preferential treatment.

True or not, this ignores a built-in fact about the sport: basketball, at any level, is the one team sport where outcomes can be determined by one incredibly talented performer.

A dominating pitcher has limitations. He needs defense and run support.

A dominating quarterback has limitations. He needs a good offensive line and a stout defense. (After winning the Super Bowl
following the 2010 season, Aaron Rodgers went two years with just one playoff win because of a poor line and shaky defense.)

But in the NBA, the Cleveland Cavaliers were the worst team in the league before they landed LeBron James with first pick in the 2003 NBA draft. With very little—other than role players—to surround him, the Cavs became one of the NBA’s elite clubs in short order.

This is why critics of the league and its officiating fail to see a broader point.

Superstars in the NBA virtually ensure playoff appearances. The lack of one hugely inhibits your future.

It has nothing to do with the guys blowing the whistles. Nothing at all.

Of course, the conspiracy theorists have their own side to tell. Much of the time it starts with Tim Donaghy, the former referee now banned for life for tampering with the outcomes of games. (For the record, Donaghy claims only to have officiated with an eye on point spreads and not who won or lost.)

Donaghy came on my radio show in March of 2013, just before the release of his book,
Personal Foul
. It was a spirited debate, and Donaghy made several claims that figure to provide more fodder for the conspiracy folks:

The league is still tampering with games.

The refs have agendas.

The league helps the Lakers win.

The league dictates the stars get favorable treatment.

I have no doubt Donaghy believes what he says, but he’s guilty of misinterpretation. And because of his reputation and history, the people who want to believe the worst will cling to Donaghy’s words, even if they’re coming from a guy whose atrocious judgment
cost him his marriage, his career, his reputation, and the two years of his life that he spent in a federal prison.

Let’s break down one of his claims: long-time ref Dick Bavetta “always said it’s good for the Lakers to win, and there’s numerous games documented where he was an official for a [Lakers] elimination game … and the Lakers always seemed to win.”

So let me see if I’ve got this right: Bavetta says it’s good for the Lakers to win.

That’s
controversial?

Really—
that’s
all you’ve got?

Let’s see. By most objective measures, it’s good for college basketball if Duke wins, good for college football if Notre Dame wins, good for baseball if the Yankees win.

But somehow thinking it’s good for the NBA if the Lakers win is a revelation worthy of Watergate-level outrage?

When traditional powers advance in every sport, it’s good for television ratings, which makes it good for the bottom line, which makes it good for every employee of the league. This isn’t news, even if it is a sentiment uttered by one official to another in a locker room or lounge after a game.

After a decade in sports radio, I can confidently say I have a little credibility on at least one issue: the hubris, tough talk, and chest thumping of men involved in sports. Every e-mail and tweet is full of all those qualities—it’s like a rite of passage for the American male.

Donaghy also sidesteps something that might be worth mentioning: over the past forty years, the Lakers have advanced in many playoff series.

Why?

Because the Lakers have been really, really good for a really, really long time
.

It’s one of the most glamorous and well-run franchises in North American sports history. If you were to name the all-time Laker starting five, you’d probably leave out Wilt Chamberlain and Shaquille O’Neal—two of the best six centers
in the history of the game
. The guy you’d pick, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, just happens to be the leading scorer
in the history of the game
.

It is okay if we inject some common sense into the discussion, isn’t it?

Good. Just checking.

The Lakers win because they routinely have the kind of talent every other team would die to have.

Another Donaghy blockbuster: the league office would send out tapes to officials, giving them tips to signal specific infractions to call on specific players. For instance, if Player X moves his pivot foot without being caught, the league would send out a video featuring half a dozen players—including Player X—making that mistake, thereby sending a message to the refs: watch these specific players and their illegal habits.

Tim, this practice is called “Quality Control” and every good business has a system to check, monitor, and promote it.

In other words, move along. Nothing to see here.

Don’t you think if the NFL saw that a particular tight end was gaining an unfair advantage by illegally using his hands to get open—outside the normal view of the referees—that the league would address it? They would be well within their rights to send out a memo stating, “This is happening. It needs to stop. Please be aware.”

Again, common sense? You there? Anybody home?

This isn’t cheating, Timmy. It’s not a backhanded way to get the right teams to win the right games. Las Vegas casinos have
employed similar methods to stem card counting and other nefarious activities at their tables.

Here’s another Donaghy gem: if the league wanted a home team to win a big game, it would assign officials known to possess “rabbit ears”—guys who hear every catcall and fear verbal abuse. By Donaghy’s reasoning, these guys would be less likely to call fouls on the home teams, which gives the home team an unseen advantage.

Once again, Donaghy’s words are music to the ears of the conspiracy folks, but they don’t hold up to a simple counterargument:

In
Personal Foul
, Donaghy spills this secret: NBA officials would often play a game among themselves in which the official calling the first foul or infraction is declared the loser. This would result, of course, in referees—presumably only the ones who wanted to win this game-within-the-game—swallowing their whistles in the early moments.

Yes, that’s unprofessional. No question. Unprofessional. Childish. Dumb. Pick your adjective.

But, in a regular season with roughly 3,700 fouls called over the course of more than 1,200 games, does anyone believe this brand of silliness would alter the power of the league?

Or even the outcome of a game?

In fact, I’ll go one step further: since it doesn’t intrinsically favor one team over another, it wouldn’t even alter the score of that
quarter
.

Let’s back up for a moment, extract ourselves from the thicket of brambles growing inside Donaghy’s mind and return to one basic truth: Officials in all sports are human. They get caught up in special moments, they make mistakes under pressure, they are vulnerable to impatience and anger.

It should also be noted that leagues
do
want to protect their top performers from physical harm; that’s why some rules are instituted to allow the most talented to flourish. Hockey, for instance, is simply a more attractive and consumable product if the most gifted skaters and scorers have the space to … you know … score and skate.

The NBA might take the most criticism for protecting its stars, but the NFL created a rule to protect quarterbacks that’s universally accepted as “The Brady Rule.” Tom Brady was lost for the 2008 season after a defensive player—already on the ground—lunged at Brady’s knee and tore it up. A prized NFL asset was injured, and now hitting a quarterback below the waist when he’s considered defenseless is a penalty.

Cheating, or just savvy business? I’m going with savvy business.

The truth is, an onrushing defensive end can’t lunge at Peyton Manning’s knee, but he also can’t lunge at John Skelton’s knee.

All leagues deal with charges of favoritism on some level. Longtime NHL reporter Larry Brooks of the
New York Post
claimed the Pittsburgh Penguins, owned by former superstar Mario Lemieux, were “made men” in the league, protected because of the status of their famous owner and the skills of current star Sidney Crosby.

But the NBA is far and away the leader when it comes to
suspicion. It’s like listening to someone prattle on outside the Texas Schoolbook Depository: Wilt Chamberlain never fouled out of a game; Michael Jordan and Magic Johnson rarely fouled out; LeBron James went more than two weeks without being called for a foul.

Is this preferential treatment, or merely a statistical acknowledgment that better players are more agile and aggressive, capable of both avoiding and drawing more fouls?

LeBron was recently quoted as saying, “I’ve never fouled much, even back to high school.” The man is 6 foot 9 inches and 250 pounds with less than 5 percent body fat and world-class fast-twitch muscles. Why is it hard to believe that he doesn’t need to foul regularly to play great defense?

A recent academic study of NBA officiating detected biases, but not the ones you might expect. The study was conducted by three economic researchers, and it found little or no evidence that referees favor teams from larger media markets. It found, somewhat surprisingly, that teams trailing in a playoff game or series received the benefit of the calls.

Yes, Mr. Donaghy, NBA refs favored the little guys.

Those findings align with a 2009 study of college basketball officiating—authored by a professor from Ball State University and another from Indiana University’s Kelley School of Business. Just like the NBA study, the NCAA study showed that a team trailing in a game is more likely to get the next call.

They’re humans. They’re vulnerable. They’re influenced by emotions.

Donaghy felt differently. He believed his ability to pick games based on officiating habits was a sign the league dictated outcomes and determined eventual champions.

Well, Tim, I have a different take: you’re simply a guy who had unique access to the league and the kind of information only the keenest eye can detect.

You were studying
human
patterns, not conspiracies.

Curt Schilling kept a book on umpires in an effort to use those human factors to his advantage. Nothing wrong with that. During the 2012 baseball season, Brian Runge was behind the plate for two of twelve no-hitters.

Uh-oh.

Cue the ominous horror-movie music.

There’s got to be a conspiracy brewing, right?

I don’t know—in 1990, Drew Coble called balls and strikes for two of seven no-hitters. In fact, there have been roughly 280 no-hitters thrown in the big leagues—eight umps have called four and nine have called three. Is it favoritism—even, dare we say it,
cheating
by the pitchers?—or simply the end result of umpires who tend to have larger strike zones?

Usually the least complicated and most likely answer is the correct one.

In other words, it’s always good to remember Sutton’s law: