Round House publishing kicked Tim Donaghy’s book to the curb. According to Deadspin the publisher decided not to move forward with the book after the NBA threatened a lawsuit.

But like any good Web site, Deadspin got a hold of a copy and posted some excerpts from Donaghy’s book.

After reading the excerpts there are several ways to react: 1) go all Britney and shave your head, then bemoan the refs for spoiling the game of basketball 2) Send a brown paper bag full of dog shit to Donaghy’s jail cell with a note saying “You Lie!” 3) realize that if any of what Donaghy said were true, most fans knew many of these things happened all the time.

As a matter of fact as I was reading the excerpts I had to check and make sure I wasn’t just reading one of Bill Simmons articles.

Many of the accusations he makes 90% of basketball fans already knew. When the league says there is no such thing as the makeup call, we know that’s BS (that’s Bull Shit, not Bill Simmons). We knew star players got treated differently, especially if they were in foul trouble. And we knew refs called fouls in blow outs to try and keep the score closer.

Does that make them OK, no, but we knew they existed.

The problem with Donaghy’s story is that he’s got no proof to back it up. He is a convicted felon in prison, with an obvious score to settle. Does that mean he’s making it all up? No, and I actually believe he is telling the truth for the most part, but that is exactly what the NBA will say when they sue whoever takes the chance at publishing it.

Now lets look at some of the more interesting of Donaghy’s claims:

To have a little fun at the expense of the worst troublemakers, the referees working the game would sometimes make a modest friendly wager amongst themselves: first ref to give one of the bad boys a technical foul wouldn’t have to tip the ball boy that night. In the NBA, ball boys set up the referees’ locker room and keep it stocked with food and beer for the postgame meal. We usually ran the kid ragged with a variety of personal requests and then slipped him a $20 bill. Technically, the winner of the bet won twice — he didn’t have to pay the kid and he got to call a T on Mr. Foul-Mouthed Big-Shot Du Jour.

After the opening tip, it was hilarious as the three of us immediately focused our full attention on the intended victim, waiting for something, anything, to justify a technical foul. If the guy so much as looked at one of us and mumbled, we rang him up. Later in the referees’ locker room, we would down a couple of brews, eat some chicken wings, and laugh like hell.

Really? You just changed the complexion of that players game by Ting him up, cost him money, and his team points, and now he could miss a game later in the season and you are laughing about it? I get that refs are people too and we all hold grudges, but to basically say before the game Player X is going to get a Tech tonight is outrageous. Although looking at Rasheed Wallace’s career it does make sense.

Two weeks before the 2003–04 season ended, Bavetta and I were assigned to officiate a game in Oakland. That afternoon before the tip-off, we were discussing an upcoming game on our schedule. It was the last regular-season game we were scheduled to work, pitting Denver against San Antonio. Denver had lost a game a few weeks prior because of a mistake made by the referees, a loss that could be the difference between them making or missing the playoffs. Bavetta told me Denver needed the win and that it would look bad for the staff and the league if the Nuggets missed the playoffs by one game. There were still a few games left on the schedule before the end of the season, and the standings could potentially change. But on that day in Oakland, Bavetta looked at me and casually stated, “Denver will win if they need the game. That’s why I’m on it.”

I was thinking, How is Denver going to win on the road in San Antonio? At the time, the Spurs were arguably the best team in the league. Bavetta answered my question before it was asked.

“Duncan will be on the bench with three fouls within the first five minutes of the game,” he calmly stated.

So what Dick Bavetta is saying, if we can trust Donaghy’s recollection, is that in any given game Tim Duncan can be called for three fouls in five minutes? He’s basically displaying just how much of a crap shoot the calls are if he is positive that Duncan will get in a situation where he can get three calls on him that quickly. Also, Donaghy really lays into Bavetta in these excerpts (or maybe Deadspin really doesn’t like him and added all the comments about him) it almost seems like he is jealous and upset for never living up to the expectations.

Of course, Stafford had some friends in the league, too. I worked a Knicks game in Madison Square Garden with him on February 26, 2007. New York shot an astounding 39 free throws that night to Miami’s paltry eight. It seemed like Stafford was working for the Knicks, calling fouls on Miami like crazy. Isiah Thomas was coaching the Knicks, and after New York’s four-point victory, a guy from the Knicks came to our locker room looking for Stafford, who was in the shower. He told us that Thomas sent him to retrieve Stafford’s home address; apparently, Stafford had asked the coach before the game for some autographed sneakers and jerseys for his kids. Suddenly, it all made sense.

Referee Jess Kersey was another one of Isiah Thomas’ guys. They’d talk openly on the phone as if they had known each other since childhood. Thomas even told Kersey that he was pushing to get Ronnie Nunn removed from the supervisor’s job so that Kersey and Dick Bavetta could take over. This sort of thing happened all the time, and I kept waiting for a Knicks game when Stafford, Bavetta, and Kersey were working together. It was like knowing the winning lottery numbers before the drawing!

They must have been the only friends Isiah had in the whole league.

And then there was the ongoing feud between Javie and 76ers superstar Allen Iverson. The rift was so bad that Philadelphia general manager Billy King often called the league office to complain about Javie’s treatment of Iverson during a game.

Iverson was eventually traded to Denver, and in his first game against his former team, he was tossed after two technicals. Afterward, Iverson implied Javie had a grudge against him, saying, “I thought I got fouled on that play, and I said I thought that he was calling the game personal, and he threw me out. His fuse is real short anyway, and I should have known that I couldn’t say anything anyway. It’s been something personal with me and him since I got in the league. This was just the perfect game for him to try and make me look bad.” The league fined Iverson $25,000 for his comments, but most of the league referees thought the punishment was too lenient and were upset he wasn’t suspended. As a result, we collectively decided to dispense a little justice of our own, sticking it to Iverson whenever we could.

Shortly after the Javie-Iverson incident, I worked a Jazz-Nuggets contest in Denver on January 6, 2007. During the pregame meeting, my fellow referees Bernie Fryer and Gary Zielinski agreed that we were going to strictly enforce the palming rule against Iverson. Palming the ball was something Iverson loved to do, but if he so much as came close to a palm, we were going to blow the whistle. Obviously, our actions were in direct retaliation for Iverson’s rant against Javie. True to form, I immediately excused myself and made an important phone call.

Sticking to our pregame pledge, each of us whistled Iverson for palming in the first quarter — we all wanted in on the fun. The violations seemed to affect Iverson’s rhythm and he played terribly that night, shooting 5-for-19 with five turnovers. After getting repeatedly whistled all night long, Iverson approached me in an act of submission.

“How long am I going to be punished for Javie?” he quietly inquired.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Allen,” I responded.

This just shows how much the players are keen to what the refs are doing. They know when they are calling the game a certain way and they know when they are being singled out for a stupid comment. The crazy thing is that Iverson’s comments weren’t that bad. This was merely a case of refs who have bloated egos taking it out on a player because they can. I get it, referring is difficult and basketball is the toughest sport to call properly. But childishly reprimanding a player because he disagreed with your call is about as cool as herpes.

The greatest part of Donaghy’s book is that in the end it doesn’t even matter, because it’s basketball season, baby, and there is no better season than hoops season.

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Kevin Patra lives by the adage: Those who can’t do, write. Currently, he is a graduate student at the University of Southern California studying Online Journalism, after spending four years at the University of Michigan obtaining a bachelors degree from the school of Language, Science & Fun. Patra still owns a teal Grant Hill jersey and is looking for his old FILA basketball shoes.

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