Cousy Asks: Basketball—or Vaudeville?

The last two months of the National Basketball Association's regular season were practically a waste of time. The season—and the incentive that goes with it—was already as good as done. We were dragging along playing out the schedule, calling on synthetic incentives, pride and tired legs to pull us through. Personally I was worn out; at that familiar point (this is not a new sensation) I think the whole league was tired and crippled and maybe a little bored. I rested alone in a New York hotel room before a night game with the Knicks, a game that would have few customers and prove nothing, and I thought, "If it were in my power, we would settle every game between now and the playoffs by flipping a coin."

Ours is not just The Long Season; ours is The Too Long Season. Ours is 17 exhibitions, then 80 regular-season games that serve only to eliminate three of nine teams for the hodgepodge of playoffs. And those can add up to as many as 19 more games. That's 116 in six months. I'm told it figures out to 4� games a week and 60,000 miles of travel, an endless procession of hotel rooms and one-night stands. That's not basketball. That's vaudeville.

The consequences I believe to be evident: tired players susceptible to injury; inferior entertainment; overexposure to the public resulting in a falloff in attendance everywhere but the cities whose teams are on top or have had new success—like Cincinnati and Los Angeles. The others had a pretty good idea where they were heading many games ago—and it showed in the empty seats of Madison Square Garden and other arenas.

I don't believe anyone—owner, player or fan—will argue that the caliber of play in the NBA in March is equal to that of November or December. It is a physical impossibility to maintain an edge over so long and so tough a grind. At the finish there's not much more to the game than running up and down the court and shooting. Defenses are out of gas. The fan who pays $2.50 in March isn't, by comparison, getting his money's worth. In a sense he is being cheated. I feel this is unnecessary.

Before I go further, I ask you not to mistake my motives. In playing 12 years in this league, six as player representative, I have seldom spoken my mind unless I was sure I could build up and not tear down. I disagree with Syracuse's Dolph Schayes, who said last week that players should not criticize their league. In any good corporation you don't try to hide mistakes, you try to correct them. This is especially important in a business which is, in effect, a public concession. The result of any legitimate criticism should be an improved product. That is my only purpose in writing this. The game is a good game and the league a good league, and I am indebted to both. I have no ax to grind.

It would be naive, first of all, to think that the club owners are deliberately trying to ruin the sport. They make money only when the league prospers. They are the ones who must decide how often we should play in order to keep the budgets balanced. They say that fewer games would mean a cut in revenue. When we discuss shortening the schedule they say they are willing only if the players accept comparable cuts in salary. Thus, a stalemate.

I do not share their philosophy because I do not believe that, say, 60 games with good promotion and balance would gross much less than 80 games jammed together and weakly promoted. In February we played 20 games in 28 days. This may be impressive mathematically, but physically it was a drain.

Let's be realistic. Both the Celtics and the Los Angeles team were off to good starts this year, and inside of two months there was really not much doubt of the outcome. As the season wore on, we continually faced games that didn't mean anything. As a fan, I certainly would have found my interest diminished. I much prefer to watch a spectacle where there's something at stake, not a no-matter contest of tired men.

How do you get up for a game when you're tired and there's no incentive? You don't, unless you're a fellow like Bill Russell or Bob Pettit who somehow sustains that proper combination of mental and physical fitness that separates the great from the good. Otherwise you are always looking for a spark—a bump from an opposing player, anything at all to keep you interested.

The playoffs that follow are practically a replay of the season. The owners say they need all these extra games to get some of the clubs out of the red, and maybe they are right. My belief is that a World Series between the divisional champions would be more meaningful, better accepted and equally as profitable. So it comes down to a difference of opinion, and mine may be foul all the way. If we played just 60 games and lost our shirts then we'd all be out of a job, and I'd be wrong the hard way. But if it is somehow proved that the owners are ruining the game for the sake of a few extra dollars, then the blame is theirs alone.