ALL Lloyd Stone wanted was a “Thank you.” That’s all.
It was early in 2003, and Stone, a lifelong friend who lives in Manalapan, N.J., was feeling ripped off, having just returned from a Nets game. He bought pricey seats, 15-20 rows up from the court, behind a basket. But what he got for his money was a severely restricted view.
From the slightly downward angle, the shot/time clock attached to the top of the backboard prevented him from seeing almost everything that didn’t occur to one side or the other. Straight-ahead action was blocked.
Stone, 53, a trade-show-exhibit designer, asked me why the NBA doesn’t have such clocks with see-through backings, like the backboards. Good idea. I told him to contact the NBA. Stone e-mailed David Stern’s office. He got no response. Six months later, Stone re-sent that e-mail.
On Sept. 9, 2003, Stone received an e-mail from Steve Hellmuth, senior vice president of NBA Operations and Technology. It read:
“As of today, and at David’s direction, I have sent out a Request for Qualification to 20 companies specializing in Display Technology to participate in a design of a Game Clock and Shot Clock that would be transparent to the fans seated behind or above the basket stanchions.”
Stone was then thanked for, “bringing this issue to our attention.” Hellmuth’s letter concluded with, “I will keep you apprised of our next steps after we have selected a design and display partner.”
But Stone was not kept apprised. In April 2004, in response to Stone’s next missive, Hellmuth e-mailed back that the transparent clocks would be used in Summer League games, adding, “thanks for checking in.”
Last Tuesday, Stone, for a second time, e-mailed Hellmuth for an update. It came that day: “We do have transparent shot clocks now in Memphis, Charlotte and Philly – with six more teams slated to be added for next year.
“Hope all is well and that you’re watching the NBA Playoffs.”
Hmmm. It seems rather clear the NBA went from an initial position of, “Thanks for your great idea, we’ll get right on it,” to one that excludes Stone from credit – and might even prefer that he gets lost.
“On one hand,” Stone said, “fewer people will pay good money to find that they bought bad seats. And that’s great; a clearer view.
“But it seems equally clear that the NBA has distanced itself from even acknowledging that this was my idea, not even a ‘Thank you,’ anymore. The NBA went from, ‘Gee, thanks; we’ve immediately contacted 20 companies to work on your idea,’ to, ‘Have a nice day.’ “
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Jim Kaat, this Saturday, returns to Zeeland, Mich., the town in which he was born, 68 years ago, for the dedication of the Jim Kaat Baseball Park for Zeeland Rec’s Little Leaguers.
Heck, even had Kaat been born in New Zealand, the folks in Zeeland couldn’t have come up with a better fellow to name their park after. By the way, hot dogs and ice cream, Saturday at Jim Kaat Park, will be sold for $1.
Speaking of YES guys, while everyone Thursday was buzzing about that comical scene the night before, when Mike Mussina hollered Joe Torre back into the dugout in the ninth inning, it wouldn’t have been half the story if not for the alert work of YES/Yankees’ director John Moore and crew.
Those pictures – of Mussina barking, Torre quickly retreating then cracking up – were worth thousands of words.
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We keep tuning in to baseball telecasts to find guesswork – and even fantasy – presented as fact.
Tuesday against the Mets, the Diamondbacks put a radical shift on against lefty hitting Cliff Floyd, with second baseman Orlando Hudson playing the short outfield, almost directly behind the first baseman.
Righty pitcher Miguel Batista then threw what appeared to be a fastball. Floyd connected, but his bat broke in two, the ball bouncing foul, toward third. On SNY, Gary Cohen matter-of-factly said, “Floyd goes the other way,” as if we all could see what Floyd had in mind.
But, whoa! Floyd’s bat had been sawed in two, making it difficult, if not impossible, to hit the ball anywhere else but toward third. And if Floyd can go the other way anytime he chooses, why, at that moment, was he hitting .223?
Meanwhile, every time a batter hits a pitch toward the opposite field, TV and radio audiences risk being told that the batter “took the pitch (or tried to take it) the other way.” The common (and common sense) reality that someone just hit the ball “the other way” because he swung a bit late at a fastball has almost vanished.