'the Highest Accolade Is Silence'

The basketball rolled across the parquet floor of the Boston Garden, with New York's John Gianelli, who has been likened to the world's tallest mushroom—he is 6'10" and last season had an immense, jutting head of hair—scampering after it. Suddenly Dave Cowens, the 6'9" Celtic center, dived headlong past Gianelli to trap the ball between his chest and the floor. The hinder portion of Cowens' body struck Gianelli across the back and side of his left leg in what in football is known as a clip. The impact sent Gianelli into an involuntary pirouette; when the dance was over, he was sitting on top of Cowens.

Mendy Rudolph and Darell Garretson, the NBA officials working the game, watched the collision (page 130) with considerable interest, their whistles clenched between their teeth, their hands ready to signal the uniform number of the perpetrator of a personal foul. No whistle was heard, no fingers were seen flashing 18 or 40. The fifth game of last spring's Eastern Conference playoff finals was allowed to continue just as if Cowens and Gianelli had never come within 10 feet of one another. To most onlookers it seemed that a lapse of judgment had occurred, that no decision had been rendered. But the refs had in fact made their call, and it was a tough one.

The decision to assess no foul on the Cowens-Gianelli collision was an extreme—and very likely correct—application of one of pro basketball's unwritten rules. It is usually called No Harm, No Foul, but some players ruefully refer to it as No Blood, No Foul.

Basically, No Harm, No Foul allows a player to perform with impunity any atrocity short of defenestration on an opponent as long as the referees deem that the player has not gained undue competitive advantage from the act. No Harm, No Foul and a number of similar customs help to differentiate professional basketball from the game's tamer varieties and have been instrumental in leaking the pros a sparkling spectator attraction. At the same time, they have turned many officials prematurely gray, changed usually gentlemanly athletes into bickerers and whiners and provoked a number of coaches to complain that officiating is ruining the game.

Even without rules that are not in the rule books, basketball would probably be the most difficult of major league sports to officiate. The game's athletes, widely regarded as the best in any team sport, are usually big, fast, strong, springy, agile and ofttimes downright tricky. Ten of them perform in a confined (94' x 50') space where officials are frequently screened from key portions of the action by the very bulk of the players' bodies. Yet pro basketball has the smallest refereeing crews in big-league sport, the officials must watch events not only on the court but 12 feet or more above it, and they must do so while in almost continual motion. Conscientious refs travel about five miles a game, much of it on the dead run.

The officials must also deal with a unique set of pressures. In no other sport do routine calls directly affect the scoring; in basketball 20% of the points are made on free throws. Fans sitting close to the floor are often vocally—and occasionally physically—intimidating. And because so many rulings are matters of close judgment, the crowd is usually furious at the refs from the opening tap, and their irritation is further inflamed by the moaning, groaning and gesticulating of players and coaches.

Amid this uncivil din, the officials must enforce rules that govern in precise detail all aspects of the game except physical contact. Just keeping track of the time can be a problem. The refs have to make sure that a quarter is 12 minutes long and remember that the foul rules change in the closing two minutes of a period. In some quarters the home team is obliged to take time out in the first 3:59 and the visitors in the last 3:59; in others, the order is reversed. Officials must ensure that the offensive players pass the ball inbounds within five seconds, bring it over halfcourt within 10, shoot it within 24 (or 30 in the ABA) and not stand in the foul lane for more than three. Clocks help keep track of some of these time periods, but others must be determined by counting—1,001, 1,002.... In most circumstances the officials are supposed to count silently, but there are situations where they are obliged to do it aloud. In addition, they must watch out for ball-control violations, hidden zone defenses, goaltending, offensive basket interference and wet spots on the floor.

After 48 minutes of this, the officials will usually split up and head for their next assignments. Including exhibitions and playoffs, the best refs work about 100 games a season and seldom, if ever, will two in a row be played in the same city. Officials are not allowed to fraternize with the men who most share their interests, players and coaches, so they travel on other flights, stay in other hotels, eat in other restaurants and drink in other bars—and they are not allowed to take their rare days off in Las Vegas or go to the track.

"I think the responsibilities we put on an official far exceed any human's ability," says one NBA coach. "Officiating is our biggest problem," says a general manager.

In both the ABA and NBA rule books, the second part of Rule 12 covers personal fouls, those penalties levied on players who use contact in what is ostensibly a noncontact sport. The two leagues' rules are virtually identical in wording, and in essence differ little from the strictures against contact in college, high school and even junior high ball. But, as even the most casual fan can see, when it comes to contact the similarities between the game played in pro arenas and the one played in high school gyms stop at the rule book. Pro basketball is—and always has been—far rougher.