http://www.sacbee.com/content/sports/basketball/kings/story/14164726p-14992516c.html
Ailene Voisin: He brings order to the court
NBA official Dick Bavetta celebrates a milestone, doing what he does best
By Ailene Voisin -- Bee Sports Columnist
Published 2:15 am PST Wednesday, February 8, 2006
He has been called an animal, been called worse than that. But take the whistle out of his mouth and the old striped shirt off his back (hence the references to "zebras"), and Dick Bavetta is one of the most engaging and enduring figures in the NBA.
This is an easy call to make.
That he botches a play now and then? That he was on the floor during Game 6 of the contentious Kings-Lakers conference finals in 2002? That he more closely resembles a stick figure than the modern day muscle-bound hulks who have the impossible job of taking the ball away from Shaquille O'Neal and LeBron James while telling them that they just messed up?
The refs will never win. They become losers the minute they step on the court.
Yet for three decades now, Bavetta has dodged everything from batteries to punches to the harsh scrutiny of the videotape, continuing to produce a prodigious body of work that contrasts sharply to his famously skinny frame.
For the record, this is his night.
When the New York Knicks meet the New Jersey Nets in the Meadowlands, Bavetta, 66, will officiate his 2,135th game, eclipsing Jake O'Donnell's record for most regular-season appearances in league history. We choose the word "appearance" carefully here because Bavetta is more actor than athlete, his improbable physique and protests notwithstanding.
"The players are the stars," Bavetta insists during a recent conversation. "I'm down there somewhere in the credits. Just look at me. I tried out for the NBA for nine years, and every year it was always something else. 'He's too thin. He has a bad complexion. He's balding.' NBA officials always looked like Jack Madden, Jake O'Donnell, big and strong, and then here comes little Dickie."
A native of Brooklyn, N.Y., Bavetta was working on Wall Street when his brother - a police detective and one-time official in the now-defunct Eastern Basketball League and the American Basketball Association - asked him to officiate a rec league game in 1966. The younger Bavetta enjoyed the frenetic physical pace so much that he earned his certification and went on to officiate in the Rucker League, Jersey Shore League, and both public and Catholic schools.
Finally, after repeated trials and tryouts, he joined an outstanding NBA officiating stable in 1975 that included Madden, O'Donnell, Mendy Rudolph and Darrell Garretson, along with the late, great Earl Strom. And though he might not be leading-man material - his self-deprecating words, not mine - Bavetta is impossible to ignore. He is a seemingly ageless relic, a composite of his 1960s, '70s and '80s peers whose stage presence was as paramount as their officiating abilities.
They were part of the show. They understood entertainment. Even today, the gangly, slightly stooped 6-footer with the awkwardly efficient gait engages players, coaches and members of his appreciative audience. He has been seen breakdancing in the middle of the court, and in fact, he more than pays his way. During one game in Arco Arena, after an errant pass knocked a beer out of a patron's hands, he summoned a courtside waitress and flipped a bill for the refill.
"I use humor to deflect tension," said Bavetta, who has never missed an assignment due to illness, injury or inclement weather. "It stems from the fact that I never take myself too seriously, and I'm a good listener. The one thing I found over the years is that players wanted to be heard. I would hear them say, 'You can't talk to this guy.' I'm going to make myself approachable. What's wrong with ... discussing a play? If we missed a play, we missed a play. You say, 'Coach, you're right.' A bad game to me is if I miss a call, and I have not had a perfect game."
Besides, the tape tells all. Unlike the era when referees spent more time in bars than with barbells, when mistakes were revealed only if a league honcho happened to be in the arena, officiating has gone high-tech, the whistle-blowers themselves much more accountable. Referees review videos and analyze every call after every game. Grades are assessed at the end of every season, and those who flunk are advised to retire, seek employment elsewhere or enroll in remedial refereeing courses (check out those summer leagues).
No, officiating just isn't what it used to be, except of course, that it remains almost exclusively male and extremely competitive. Juicy, too. The refs form cliques. They love to gossip. They engage in decades-long feuds and form alignments, often over union issues; theirs is a serial drama all its own.
It resumes tonight with the man known around the league (mostly affectionately) as Dickie B., a thriving, surviving part of the game.
Congratulations.
About the writer: Reach Ailene Voisin at (916) 321-1208 or avoisin@sacbee.com
Note: Although this technically isn't about the Kings, it's pretty obvious how much of an influence Dick Bavetta has had on the team. For that reason, I posted it here...
Ailene Voisin: He brings order to the court
NBA official Dick Bavetta celebrates a milestone, doing what he does best
By Ailene Voisin -- Bee Sports Columnist
Published 2:15 am PST Wednesday, February 8, 2006
He has been called an animal, been called worse than that. But take the whistle out of his mouth and the old striped shirt off his back (hence the references to "zebras"), and Dick Bavetta is one of the most engaging and enduring figures in the NBA.
This is an easy call to make.
That he botches a play now and then? That he was on the floor during Game 6 of the contentious Kings-Lakers conference finals in 2002? That he more closely resembles a stick figure than the modern day muscle-bound hulks who have the impossible job of taking the ball away from Shaquille O'Neal and LeBron James while telling them that they just messed up?
The refs will never win. They become losers the minute they step on the court.
Yet for three decades now, Bavetta has dodged everything from batteries to punches to the harsh scrutiny of the videotape, continuing to produce a prodigious body of work that contrasts sharply to his famously skinny frame.
For the record, this is his night.
When the New York Knicks meet the New Jersey Nets in the Meadowlands, Bavetta, 66, will officiate his 2,135th game, eclipsing Jake O'Donnell's record for most regular-season appearances in league history. We choose the word "appearance" carefully here because Bavetta is more actor than athlete, his improbable physique and protests notwithstanding.
"The players are the stars," Bavetta insists during a recent conversation. "I'm down there somewhere in the credits. Just look at me. I tried out for the NBA for nine years, and every year it was always something else. 'He's too thin. He has a bad complexion. He's balding.' NBA officials always looked like Jack Madden, Jake O'Donnell, big and strong, and then here comes little Dickie."
A native of Brooklyn, N.Y., Bavetta was working on Wall Street when his brother - a police detective and one-time official in the now-defunct Eastern Basketball League and the American Basketball Association - asked him to officiate a rec league game in 1966. The younger Bavetta enjoyed the frenetic physical pace so much that he earned his certification and went on to officiate in the Rucker League, Jersey Shore League, and both public and Catholic schools.
Finally, after repeated trials and tryouts, he joined an outstanding NBA officiating stable in 1975 that included Madden, O'Donnell, Mendy Rudolph and Darrell Garretson, along with the late, great Earl Strom. And though he might not be leading-man material - his self-deprecating words, not mine - Bavetta is impossible to ignore. He is a seemingly ageless relic, a composite of his 1960s, '70s and '80s peers whose stage presence was as paramount as their officiating abilities.
They were part of the show. They understood entertainment. Even today, the gangly, slightly stooped 6-footer with the awkwardly efficient gait engages players, coaches and members of his appreciative audience. He has been seen breakdancing in the middle of the court, and in fact, he more than pays his way. During one game in Arco Arena, after an errant pass knocked a beer out of a patron's hands, he summoned a courtside waitress and flipped a bill for the refill.
"I use humor to deflect tension," said Bavetta, who has never missed an assignment due to illness, injury or inclement weather. "It stems from the fact that I never take myself too seriously, and I'm a good listener. The one thing I found over the years is that players wanted to be heard. I would hear them say, 'You can't talk to this guy.' I'm going to make myself approachable. What's wrong with ... discussing a play? If we missed a play, we missed a play. You say, 'Coach, you're right.' A bad game to me is if I miss a call, and I have not had a perfect game."
Besides, the tape tells all. Unlike the era when referees spent more time in bars than with barbells, when mistakes were revealed only if a league honcho happened to be in the arena, officiating has gone high-tech, the whistle-blowers themselves much more accountable. Referees review videos and analyze every call after every game. Grades are assessed at the end of every season, and those who flunk are advised to retire, seek employment elsewhere or enroll in remedial refereeing courses (check out those summer leagues).
No, officiating just isn't what it used to be, except of course, that it remains almost exclusively male and extremely competitive. Juicy, too. The refs form cliques. They love to gossip. They engage in decades-long feuds and form alignments, often over union issues; theirs is a serial drama all its own.
It resumes tonight with the man known around the league (mostly affectionately) as Dickie B., a thriving, surviving part of the game.
Congratulations.
About the writer: Reach Ailene Voisin at (916) 321-1208 or avoisin@sacbee.com
Note: Although this technically isn't about the Kings, it's pretty obvious how much of an influence Dick Bavetta has had on the team. For that reason, I posted it here...
