Don Nelson

Posted on February 9, 2023 by Steinmetz

There is no doubt Don Nelson is one of the greatest basketball minds of all time. He looked at the game a different way — he liked guards more than big men, liked offense more than defense, and liked guys who could play a lot more than guys who couldn’t. And he liked veterans more than young players. A lot more.

When Nelson was at his best, he was damn good, and I got to see him at his peak: He brought together a bunch of talented misfits late in the 2006-07 season and helped create one of the most magical seasons of my lifetime.

When it comes to “electric atmospheres,” two come to mind: Hersheypark arena for a high school playoff game in the 1970s and Oracle Arena during “We Believe” in the Spring of 2007. That’s when the Warriors won 16 of their last 21 regular-season games to qualify for the postseason, then dismantled a 67-win Dallas Mavericks team in six games.

Nelson was a different kind of basketball genius. He was a piece of work, and when it comes to stories, there are countless ones about Nellie. One of the funniest ones I remember came midway through the 2007-08 season. It was a January game in Milwaukee, and the Warriors would wind up winning by 20 points.

Nelson was notorious for being hard on young players and this particular season was no different. The Warriors had two young big men, neither of whom played much or ever made any imprint in the NBA: Patrick O’Bryant and Kosta Perovic.

O’ Bryant was 21-years-old and in his second season; he had played in 16 games his rookie year and was struggling in Year 2. Perovic was 22-years-old, and in his first season in the NBA. He was Croatian, and the Warriors found him playing in a league in Spain. Both were 7-footers, but Perovic a little taller. Though we were in January, and more than halfway through the season, Nelson had never put Perovic into a game.

When I tell you Nelson could be tough on young players, I should have been more specific. He was hard on young players; he could be brutal on young big men. And he had two of them who he didn’t have a lot of use for.

So, we’re in Milwaukee and the Warriors find themselves in a situation where Nelson needed size for whatever reason, and had to look to the end of his bench. Disgustedly, he turns to Larry Riley, who would later be responsible for drafting Stephen Curry, his lead assistant. Nelson often used Riley as a conduit to inform a player he was going into the game.

Nelson said to Riley: “We gotta put the big stiff in.” Riley agreed.

Nelson looked back out onto the court, and Riley got up and pointed to O’Bryant, telling him to get into the game. As O’Bryant begins to peel his warmups off and make his way to the scorer’s table, Nelson notices him. Nelson looks perplexed, and Riley sees it in Nelson’s face.

Nelson says: “No, not him. The white one.”

“Oh,” Riley replied. Kosta Perovic made his NBA debut that night and had four points and two rebounds in seven minutes. He played seven career NBA games.

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Alvin Attles and Hersheypark Arena

Posted on February 6, 2023 by Steinmetz

The best thing about Hershey, PA isn’t the Hershey chocolate factory or even the fact you can actually smell chocolate when you’re in the town. Nah, the best thing about Hershey is Hersheypark Arena, and notice I didn’t say the amusement park.

Hersheypark arena was the home to some of the greatest high school games in Pennsylvania basketball history, and I was lucky enough to see some of them. Sure, it was also the site of Wilt Chamberlain’s 100-point game in the NBA, but give me Reading High beating Harrisburg 30-27 in the District III title game in 1976 or Reading High beating Steelton there 65-63 in triple-overtime in 1977 any day of the week.

Those two eras of basketball came together for me thanks to Alvin Attles, the long-time Warriors executive and championship coach.

High school games at Hersheypark in the 1970s were incredible spectacles. I’m talking high school boys double-headers where 8,000-9000 would be there. You’d have the Reading’s, the York’s, the Steelton’s, the Harrisburg’s, the Hershey’s, the Chambersburg’s — some of the state’s biggest schools — and they’d bring thousands.

I used to go to Reading High games with my buddies Chris and Kevin Smith, though they weren’t brothers. As soon as Mr. Smith would park the car at the arena parking lot, Chris, Kevin and I took off running toward the front gates. It was all general admission and first-come, first-seated, so the three of us took great pride in counting how many people we passed on the way in.

We always got to games early, and one of the reasons why was that inside the arena was a small arcade — with pinball machines, some shooting gallery games, maybe one of those contraptions that tries to grab a stuffed animal with a claw. But the arcade was kind of small and tucked away. An Anomaly, really. An arcade inside a sports arena.

Still, I had forgotten all about the arcade inside Hersheypark Arena — until about 15 years ago. I was talking to Attles, who was a teammate of Chamberlain’s on that 1962 Philadelphia Warriors team. Attles was Chamberlain’s teammate on that squad and on that night.

I was asking Alvin about that day, and that game, back in March 1962. Alvin told me that he and Wilt had driven to the game together, from Philly or New York, and that they’d gotten to the arena early. They had a couple of hours to kill.

“And one thing I remember,” Alvin said. “was Wilt shooting a gun, at this arcade, like a little shooting gallery. They had pinball machines … it was a game room. And I just remember Wilt, all 7-foot-2 of him, shooting this little rifle and playing pinball before that game.”

That’s when I remembered the arcade inside Hersheypark Arena, and that I’d been inside that arcade, too. So, I thought … Wilt Chamberlain spent a couple of hours in that Hersheypark arcade before a game that would end up being legendary. Me, too. Because I played pinball there before games that were as epic to me as that 100-point game.

Hershey had a video game room. Actually, check that. It was an arcade, with pinball machines, a shooting gallery, etc.

When I was a kid double-headers at Hershey — Triple-A high school games that brought thousands of fans. I’m talking 8,000, 9-000 packed. I’d go with Chris and KEvin Smith. We’d park the car and run as fast as we could toward the entrance.

It was first-come, first-seated so we always kept track of about how many people we passed by running on the way in — thus getting better seats than them. Hershey Park also had a video-game roo, arcade, etc.

If we got to a game early enough, we’d go in and blow a couple of quarters at the arcade. I had forgotten all about that arcade until about 10 or 15 years ago, when I was talking to Alvin Attles, a basketball legend. Alvin was teammate of Wilt Chamberlain back in the day before becoming an NBA winning head coach and successful executive

Alvin was Chamberlain’s teammate

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Bobby Heebner

Posted on February 3, 2023 by Steinmetz

There may be a few old-timers from Reading/Berks who might not agree with me, but the 1970s were great years for basketball officiating in the area. We had Tom Kranis and George Zeppos (known as “The Greeks”), Mike Schorn, Tim Braun, Jack Slusser, my dad, John Carl, Barry Sherman, Ed Tobias, etc. Among them was Bobby Heebner.

Mr. Heebner and my dad were frequent officiating partners during the District 3 playoffs and Inter-district playoffs. They’d take refs from Berks County to referee in Harrisburg or Scranton … They’d send York officials to Reading and the Philly suburbs … Harrisburg refs did Lancaster games, and so on.

My dad would often carpool with Mr. Heebner for out-of-area games, and most of the time I was in the backseat, tagging along to a game. Mr. Heebner was strong, really tough, and quiet. He was known as a guy you didn’t want to mess with. Mr. Heebner was a good partner to have … most of the time.

There’s a rule among officials that after a game is over, you depart the court together. No exceptions. You walk onto the court as a team — you and your partner — and you left the court as a team. It didn’t matter how you departed. You could run, walk, scamper, strut, whatever. Just don’t leave without the other.

My dad and Mr. Heebner had a lot of big high school games over the years and there was a game I remember involving Harrisburg or Chambersburg, maybe Steelton, I can’t all the way remember. But it was packed house at Shippensburg, and it was a tight game and the crowd was getting into it. Of course, there’s a call at the end, leaving half the gym angry and pissed off.

As the game is coming to a close, more and more disgruntled fans are gathering nearer to the court. Emotions were running, high, but not Mr. Heebner’s. As the final buzzer sounds, pops finds himself at midcourt while Mr. Heebner is under one of the baskets — the far basket from the officials dressing room.

Some fans are kind-of storming the court and other fans are just plain hot because their team lost. My dad sees the situation and observes Mr. Heebner casually strolling through the mob gathering on the court. The throng was growing. Pops was ready to skedaddle. Not Mr. Heebner.

As Mr. Heebner approached my dad at halfcourt, my dad expected to break into a jog toward the locker room. Mr. Heebner didn’t break stride. “Bobby,” my dad said. “Let’s go! Let’s get out of here.”

“I will never run off of a basketball court,” Mr. Heebner replied. “Never.” Mr. Heebner left the court on his own terms. Like I said, I always remember him as being strong as an ox but understated and humble. I thought he was a damn good ref. He ran enough during a game, I guess. He wasn’t going to run after it.

There’s another story about Mr. Heebner that I’d only heard — never witnessed. It involves Cicero Lassiter, a Reading city league legend, who apparently challenged Mr. Heebner to a fight after a summer league game. When Mr. Heebner started taking Lassiter up on it, Lassiter said: “You’ve got that striped shirt on. If you didn’t have that shirt on, I’d take your head off.”

Mr. Heebner removed the whistle from around his neck and casually took off his refereeing jersey. “I don’t have my shirt on now,” Mr. Heebner said. The fight was cancelled.

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