The National Basketball Association (NBA) and American Basketball Association (ABA) reached a monumental agreement. The former will distribute $24.5 million to retired ABA players. These are called “recognition payments.”
Most recipients are thrilled, but some are lukewarm at best.
BACKGROUND
Incipiently dismissed as a fledgling nuisance by the NBA (National Basketball Association), the ABA (American Basketball Association) slowly became a potential threat. Their talent level began ascending a steep gradient via aggressive recruiting and the pooling of owner resources to wrest some of the top collegiate talents and established NBA stars in the country.
Further, they dispatched scouts across semi-pro, AAU, weekend, and industrial leagues, scouring the land for top undiscovered talent.
“[The] ABA forced the NBA into serious merger discussions as soon as it began practicing what it preached: spend money. Their original ABA owners were supposedly prepared and able to endure substantial initial losses, go first class, and eventually push the established league to the bargaining table. ‘Our owners,’ trumpeted Commissioner George Mikan, ‘could buy the NBA lock, stock, and ball boy.’ For several seasons, however, most owners either didn’t have or weren’t willing to spend enough money to buy the ball boy.” [1]
The NBA hierarchy sneered as some ABA franchises struggled with fan interest and accounts receivable. Celtics GM Red Auerbach said, “Let ‘em [the ABA] rot!” Regarding the overall level of talent in the league, he continued, “Julius Erving is a nice kid but not a great player.” Of course, that appraisal mutated over time. Soon the brown ball league’s establishment was drooling over many ABA hoopers. In their infancy (the late 60s), Mikan “made loud predictions about the All-Americans his league would sign. But the ABA bungled negotiations with [Future HOFers] Elvin Hayes (Houston), Wes Unseld (Louisville), and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (UCLA).” [1] The latter’s bidding war was indeed one for the ages!
DAMN THE MILLION AND THE MINK!!!
In 1969, one graduate stood–literally–head-and-shoulders above the rest. The ABA allocated over $10,000 to conduct its background check on collegiate phenomenon Ferdinand Lewis Alcindor Jr. (Kareem Abdul-Jabbar), called Operation Kingfish. It consisted of interviews, psychological and psychiatric profiles, and “getting to know you” sessions. The project itself uncloaked three themes, among others:
1. The idea of becoming an instant millionaire appealed to him.
2. Alcindor alone—not his agent or college coach—would make the final decision. 3. Long, drawn-out negotiations were not an option (“Give me one offer…your best offer”).
Alcindor arrived in New York City to meet officials from the New York Nets (ABA) and Milwaukee Bucks (NBA) franchises. First, the Nets, represented by Commissioner George Mikan (who insisted on being present) and Nets owner Authur Brown. There was league-wide consternation among ABA owners about getting “at least one guy with a brain in the [negotiating] room.” [2] As a result of Kingfish, the Nets appeared with “a certified [one million dollar bonus] check in the name of Lew Alcindor, to cut through all of the bull and get his attention…[and prove] that we weren’t going to waste his time in needless negotiation,” according to a high-ranking ABA executive. [2]
In addition, as a result of intel and information acquired during pre-talk interviews, a full-length mink coat was purchased for Alcindor’s mother as an additional bonus! However, neither the million dollar check nor the mink entered the discussion at the initial meeting. Mikan and Brown, flouting the data, took it upon themselves to revamp the course and made this “kid” (in their myopic minds) Alcindor a lowball contractual offer.
Mikan later stated, “We decided that it wasn’t necessary to give him our best offer. We figure that when he comes back to us, then we’ll use the [million dollar] check for the second round of talks.” Mike Storen, an ABA general manager who would become commissioner in 1973, was incredulous and shrieked at Mikan and Brown, “YOU DID WHAT?!?! You dumb SOBs! Why did we spend [10 grand] for all of that information if you’re not going to use it? How could you guys not give him the check?” [2]
Down the hall, the Milwaukee Bucks went in and cloyed Alcindor’s request, providing their best proposal and a better offer (devoid of bonus funds and furs).
The Nets, and the ABA, hastily sent execs to meet Alcindor (on his way back to Los Angeles) at the airport. Suddenly the check, the mink coat, and a higher contractual offer were revealed. Alcindor retorted, “I have given Milwaukee my word.”
There would be no second assemblage. As the saying goes, you win some; you lose some.
The subsequent draft allowed the novel league to fare much better. That year (1970), the consensus NCAA All-America team consisted of six players: Rick Mount (Purdue), Dan Issel (Kentucky), Charlie Scott (North Carolina), Bob Lanier (St. Bonaventure), Calvin Murphy (Niagara), “Pistol” Pete Maravich (LSU). The latter three signed with the older, established league, but the former trio inked agreements with the up-and-coming ABA. As a caveat, the ABA rookies were also allowed to choose their respective (preferred) “regional” destinations (Indiana Pacers, Kentucky Colonels, and Virginia Squires, respectively).
DALLAS DECEIT GONE AWRY
Both NBA and ABA franchises still had racial quotas in the late 60s and 70s. The new league provided opportunities to players unfairly barred (Connie Hawkins, Roger Brown, Doug Moe, Charlie Williams) or grossly underpaid (Zelmo Beaty, Rick Barry, Billy Cunningham) by the NBA. Some franchises seemed less concerned with winning. In particular, loci, putting a***s in the coliseum seats took precedence, especially if those patrons were non-melanated season-ticket holders.
The ABA’s San Antonio Spurs were one of the four teams that arrived in the NBA-ABA merger in 1976. They have long been seen as one of the quintessential organizations in terms of professionalism in any sport. The franchise had birth pangs and roots as the Texas/Dallas Chaparrals (“Chaps”). Dallas was audaciously hostile in the ‘70s toward Black athletes. In the minds of legions of whites, they were to be seen and not heard. You read it: shut up and dribble, run, jump, or catch, then take your check and smile for the public. Even the beloved Dallas Cowboys, champions in a football-crazed city, were largely disrespected off the gridiron. One former Cowboy, Hall of Famer Tony Dorsett, remarked, “In Dallas during the 1970s, white people didn’t seem to have a problem calling you n****r to your face. Where I came from [Pittsburgh], if they did so, they’d be 50 yards away and running.” [3]
So one can just imagine the hostile station toward a constellation of tall Brothers in tank tops and shorts, saturated in perspiration, doing their jobs. Although conceivably, some may have lusted furtively.
A Dallas Chaps executive choreographed a diabolical solution instead of name-calling. He simply began trading away high-caliber black players from the team. The rationale—stated publicly—was that the acquisition of white players would appeal to the fans. Fortunately, the last remaining melanated All-Star on the team was the ABA Players Union President and outspoken. His name was Steve “Snapper” Jones, who later became a well-known NBA on NBC commentator. He recalled, “Donnie Freeman, a 24 points per game [All-Star], was jettisoned to Indiana for a white player from the Indiana Pacers.
This brought the issue to a head. Several other Black players were traded, and soon, half our roster was white. The feeling among [us] players was that management wanted to get as many white guys as [possible] to help attendance. Some public statements were made by the front office.” As a result, the Black players refused to attend training camp and threatened to boycott games until the front office issued a retraction, which they did, but only after Jones went to the front office and demanded one. [2]
Specific s**t mandates emphatic contestation. No matter the tariff, the players were eager to oblige.
One could not contrive this even within the cinematic element! Joe W. Geary, the Chaps General Partner (and mastermind), stated, “A bunch of people want white faces, someone they can identify with…we need some white ball players…we had ten black players last year and drew less than 100 fans [per game] who were colored.” His loose utilization of the term colored–expired and antiquated in most social circles–illustrated the backward-leaning mentality of the team’s ownership group. [3]
To attract white fans and to prove his point, the Chaps [via trade] took Bob Netolicky from the Indiana Pacers for Freeman. Netolicky indeed had not reached his nadir but was no longer a superstar. Yet, Geary was ecstatic. “We’ve got Netolicky, he’s an established big man, and you can’t win without one.”
Translated: Netolicky is a big (so-called) white man, and you can’t sell tickets or fill seats in Dallas without one. It was a deficient and flawed account, considering that “by the early 1970s, nearly all pro basketball teams featured Black front line players, including those in other ABA franchise cities with sordid racial histories such as Indianapolis, [Salt Lake City], or Louisville, Kentucky.” [3]
The Dallas Chaps’ stratagem languished on the court and at the gate. They finished the 1972-1973 season with a dismal record (24-48), diminished ticket sales, no playoffs, a coaching change and a subsequent move south to San Antonio at the season’s end!
A LEAGUE OF THEIR VERY OWN
The ABA enterprise provided much for the fans. It contributed to the advancement of the game (wide-open style, three-point line, dunk contests, 30-second clock, etc.), but
more than a handful of its performers have come up with the short end of the stick. Many participants were left with nothing when the lights ultimately dimmed.
The league has provided a stage not only for great players but several eventual Pro Basketball Hall of Famers: Julius “Dr. J.” Erving, George “Iceman” Gervin, Dan Issel, Artis “A-Train” Gilmore, Louie Dampier, Mel Daniels, Roger Brown, Moses Malone, Billy “Kangaroo Kid” Cunningham, Connie Hawkins, Spencer Haywood, Rick Barry, David Thompson, Charlie Scott, Bobby Jones, Zelmo Beaty, Gus Johnson.
Scores of others flourished within the entity and became both ABA stars and legends: Warren (Armstrong) Jabali, Freddie Lewis, Cincy Powell, James Jones, George Thompson, Billy “Whopper” Paultz, Brian Taylor, Billy Knight, Ralph Simpson, Maurice Lucas, Bob Netolicky, Wendell Ladner, “Pogo” Joe Caldwell, Swen Nater, Marvin Barnes, Larry Jones, Bill Melchionni, Ron Boone, Mack Calvin, James Silas, Wil Jones, Caldwell Jones, Willie Wise.
Still others, of equivalent magnitude but emblazoned less, became indispensable cogs and mainstays in ABA lore: Frank Card, Tom “Trooper” Washington, Ollie Taylor, Joe Hamilton, Randy Denton, John Roche, Gerald Govan, Austin “Red” Robbins, Sam Smith, Les Hunter, George Carter, Marv Roberts, Jim Eakins.
This was no league of vagabonds. By the 1970s, ABA talent rivaled the NBA except for the center position. Summer All-Star matchups, billed as Supergames I (Houston Astrodome) and II (Nassau Coliseum), were close contests won by the NBA by a combined total of seven points. In overall exhibition games, the ABA held a 79-76 margin in wins.
B.T. EXPRESS
Brian Taylor was an athlete. He was also an intellectual. As a prep star in New Jersey (Perth Amboy), he was an All-American in basketball and football. His brother, Bruce, was an NFL All-Pro cornerback with the San Francisco 49ers. More significantly, Brian‘s mind and academic excellence resided at a high echelon. Point guards and quarterbacks must evince leadership skills. The same holds for class presidents. Brian was all three. After choosing to focus on basketball, he was besieged with scholarship offers, ultimately deciding to attend nearby Princeton University.
In college, he continued to be a preeminent performer, becoming an All-American in 1972. The consensus was that Taylor “was [Princeton University’s] most acclaimed
player since Bill Bradley’s time a few years before. Princeton did not award athletic scholarships, but he received financial aid based on need.” [4]
Well-versed in political science and African-American studies, “Taylor was outspoken on [cultural and social] issues. He thought that not enough Black [students] were admitted to Princeton, and he was particularly distressed that for most of the time he played there, he was the only [African-American] on the team.” [4]
Coveted by the ABA and NBA, Taylor chose the former, signing with the New York Nets. Their 1972 rookie class included not only Taylor but also fellow collegiate All-American and Pan American Games teammate Jim Chones of Marquette. Both made the 1973 ABA All-Rookie Team.
In his initial season, veteran scorer George Carter and power forward Tom Washington looked out for the rookie tandem. Taylor, armed with his new contract, Ivy League education, and transitioning into a new league, was keenly aware that he could be a target. Please make no mistake about it; despite his good looks, and corporate countenance, he could handle himself.
During our conversation, Taylor made things crystal clear. “We were all tight. One of my great mentors was the late Tom Washington. He helped both Chones and I. He gave us a lot of advice, telling us to watch our backs. Folks always forgot that I might’ve gone to Princeton, but I grew up in the projects. They might’ve thought that I was a pretty boy, but I was tough as nails.”
It’s one thing to enter into battle versus proficient, pugnacious opponents night after night; it’s auspicious to do so alongside guys nicknamed: Trooper (Washington), Black Swan (Bob Lackey), Whopper (Billy Paultz), and Dirty Dingus (Carter). Brian Taylor, himself dubbed B. T. Express, made things happen on the floor.
The following season with Julius Erving’s acquisition, a strong draft, and a colossal deal with Kentucky, the Nets went on to win the 1974 ABA Championship. Two years later, they won again. During that interval, Brian, the floor general, was an ABA All-Star twice, along with one All-ABA selection. His teammate’s nicknames slowly became less menacing: Mr. K (Larry Kenon), Super John ([legal name] Williamson), Jumbo (Jim Eakins), House (Rich Jones), Dr. J (Erving), Rainbow (Willie Sojourner), Philly Dog (Mike Gale), and Hound Dog (Ted McClain). Conversely—monikers notwithstanding—the squad was much more potent and successful.
After the merger, Taylor moved on to the Kansas City Kings, Denver Nuggets, and San Diego Clippers. He led the NBA in 3-pointers made during the 1979-80 season. A torn Achilles ended his career in 1982. Subsequently, he returned to Princeton to finish his degree. Education was paramount. His mind and a sense of activism and awareness were churning. Behind the scenes, Taylor was helping to dish out more assists than one could fathom. He was an integral part of negotiations on behalf of his ABA brethren. Taylor told me, “We had to get something before we all perished!”
Taylor’s basketball résumé and professional CV are indelible. However, his willingness to utilize his platform and exhibit toughness, intelligence, and professionalism made him a natural selection to become part of this process. Brian Taylor–intrepid as always–answered the call.
THREE THE HARD WAY: ‘TUSI, BIG SAM, & ‘DINGUS’
“[Many] have fallen through the cracks, and the NBA is doing nothing to pull them out…When the ABA disbanded in 1976, merging with the NBA, four of its eleven teams were absorbed by the NBA — the Pacers, Nuggets, New York Nets, and San Antonio Spurs. The rest of the players on those other teams were left hanging. No pension, salaries shut off, health insurance gone.” [5]
While many worked earnestly to push this movement forward, a few will never witness the results. The recent deaths of three players catapulted talks between the ABA and NBA representatives to the forefront.
(1) Frank Card: A 6’7” forward from West Philadelphia, he was dubbed “Watusi” (mainly for his leaping skills). He was also a Baker League Legend. After a collegiate career at South Carolina State University and a three-year stint in the Army, he played for five ABA teams. A fierce defender of his ABA brotherhood, he stated, “my wife and I aren’t raking in [big money], but we’re not homeless either… [Regarding] the pension thing, the NBA is waiting for us to die off. The commissioner and the board are waiting for us to die, so they don’t have to worry about it.” [5]
(2) Sam Smith: The West Virginia native was a 6’7” 230-pound power forward who won an NCAA Division II Championship with Kentucky Wesleyan University. Smith was also an ABA champion with the Utah Stars in his final season (1971). In retirement, he was anticipating a $2000 a month pension. It never arrived. Before his death, a heartbreaking snapshot of Smith (at his insistence), prone in his hospital bed with an ABA basketball beside him, was national news. Similar to Card, “Smith considered himself lucky compared to former teammates. At least he had health insurance from
Ford Motors. But $2000 a month would’ve been a windfall for the family, said Smith’s wife, Helen. ‘It would’ve been life-changing,’ she said. ‘Because we were living. We were getting everything paid, but we couldn’t do a lot more.’” [5]
(3) George Carter: considered one of the greatest all-around athletes ever to come out of Western New York, he was drafted by three major professional sports teams (the Buffalo Bills, the New York Mets, and the NBA’s Detroit Pistons). In college at Saint Bonaventure, he averaged 19.4 points and 12.4 rebounds in his career. Only Pro Basketball Hall of Famer Bob Lanier bested those numbers for the Bonnies. George is a member of that university’s Hall of Fame. After playing for the Pistons and then serving two years in the Army, Carter was an ABA All-star (1x) and had a fine career. Post-retirement, however, before succumbing to cancer, Carter “had no money and [could not] work his job as a limo driver” due to his chemotherapy.
IT ALL COMES DOWN TO THE MONEY
Neither skills nor aptitude was ever the issue. Team management and money were always the more significant problem. Franchises often moved or outright folded, with a few exceptions (Denver, Kentucky, Indiana). Dolgoff (deferment) Plans commonly augmented bonafide dollar amounts in player contracts.
The NBA stepped up to provide much-needed and long overdue relief. It’s warranted. However, it is a “drop in the bucket” from a fiscal perspective. Many athletes felt dismayed, if not isolated, by the senior league. Bob Costas stated, “The bottom line is that the amount of money it would take to fully fund reasonable pensions, not exorbitant pensions, is a relative pittance.” [5] None have clamored for handouts. The fight for pensions is due for services rendered.
Over 80% of those approximately 115 ABA retirees remaining alive are African-American. That fact looms large.
“The NBA did make a move to help out some players not getting pensions, those who were in the league before 1965. ‘About all the guys were white,’ said former ABA player Maurice McHartley. “The NBA seems to be two things. It claims, on the one hand, to lead the charge of professional sports leagues in social justice and racial equity. And yet, most of the ABA players left destitute are [predominantly] Black.” [5]
More than a fraction of players promised a pension after the merger are homeless, living under bridges, or have died penniless, without money to afford a memorial service
or headstone. While most of the players involved have chosen not to make race a focus in public forums, whispers, and murmurs regarding the obvious are, in fact, ubiquitous.
The driving force behind this venture consisted of three gentlemen: attorney Scott Tarter, Dr. John Abrams, and filmmaker Ted Green. All are masterminds of the Dropping Dimes Foundation, which has assisted multitudes of players in need over the years. Other former ABA players such as Mack Calvin, Bob Netolicky, and Brian Taylor were standing alongside legal counsel on behalf of the brethren. Hall of Famers with ABA roots who prosper today (Erving, Barry, Dampier, Gilmore, Haywood, Issel, Gervin, [the late] Mel Daniels) have also intervened. The iconic Bob Costas and the omnipresent basketball guru Peter Vecsey were mainstays from the media side. Indianapolis Star journalist Dana Hunsinger-Benbow also provided outstanding coverage and candid analysis.
The terms: “The agreement pays players an average of $3,828 annually for each year they were in the league. For example, a player with a minimum of three seasons will receive $11,484 a year. A player with the most years of service, such as Freddie Lewis who has nine, will get $35,452 a year.” [6]
The NBA could have easily stonewalled and done nothing. They came to the table, negotiated, and delivered to their credit. They could certainly do more, but this is a start, and it is indeed something. The NBA has a surplus of legal tender to burn. Unlike the inaugural ABA owners, this current NBA enterprise can afford lock, stock, and anything else it designates as a whole to support these legends. Unfortunately, some former players are not around to see this come to fruition. However, those who passed recently will have benefits awarded to their families.
Although it took a substantial duration, “recognition payments” to these athletes are justified.
Words by Dr. Eric Hawkins (“Dr. Hawk”)
BIBLIOGRAPHY
(1) Wolf, David. “Foul.” Holt, Rinehart, & Winston Inc. New York (1972) p. 158
(2) Pluto, Terry. “Loose Balls: The Short, Wild, Life of the American Basketball Association.”Simon & Schuster. New York (1990) pp. 191-193, 289 (3) “Chaparrals Drop Two Blacks in Order to Get More White Players.” New York Times. (September 1, 1972) p.14 (4) “Brian Taylor: Back At Princeton.” New York Times. (May 4, 1983) p.9, Section B
(5) Hunsinger-Benbow, Dana. “Former ABA players struggling and running out of time: ‘The NBA is waiting for us to die off.’ USA Today. (February 9, 2021)
(6) Hunsinger-Benbow, Dana. ”NBA to create $24.5 million program for former ABA players: ‘This will be life-changing for them’”. Indianapolis Star/USA Today. (July 12, 2022)