Professional sports are interesting from a lot of business angles, that's for sure. All that history. All that psychodrama. All that crazed, bread-and-circus identification that so many of us do with our home town honeys.
And all that money....
Even franchises that play miserably and draw poorly tend to be worth a lot of money when they come on the market, as there always seems to be a wealthy vanity owner in the wings. Then there's the money ball question: do you or don't you get what you pay for. There are the astronomical salaries - just think about what Roger Clemens is getting paid by the Yankees this season. Talk about a nifty pay rate. (And I agonize over whether a per diem should be 8 hours of work or 10.) There's also the fact that poor performance - both individual player and team - is out there in public for the whole world to see in a way that's just dauntingly public.
And which, in the once proud basketball town of Boston, has been on display for more years than I care to count.
I will admit that I am not now and never have been a capital b basketball fan. Yes, I did enjoy watching them when they were good, so my lack of interest now is partially fair-weather fandom. But it's more than that. I just do not enjoy the noise, flashing lights, Jumbotrons, and showboating that the NBA has come to. When I do watch a game, which is rare, I typically come away unimpressed by anything other than some individual heroics. Maybe I don't watch enough pro basketball these days, but I seem to remember when you could actually see more playmaking evolving. Now it looks to me like pure run and gun.
And, no, Boston was never a capital "b" basketball town. But, hey, everybody loves a winner and people got into the Russell era teams (at least during the playoffs and definitely in retrospect), the Cowens era teams, and - of course - the Bird era teams (when Boston almost but not quite was a Capital B Basketball Town).
But that Capital B was Before: Before their #1 draft pick Len Bias died of a drug overdose. Before Reggie Lewis dropped dead during practice. Before the Celtics had no luck of the draw and didn't get to pick Tim Duncan even when, statistically speaking, they should have gotten first pick that year.
The draft is one of the interesting aspect of the sporting biz - an attempt you don't see if "normal" businesses (for the most part) to level the playing field and not just let the rich get richer and the best get better.
Unlike in those sports where the crappiest team gets the first draft pick, the NBA just gives the crappiest team a better shot at it: more ping pong balls with their name on it get thrown in the hopper. The worse you are, the better your chances. But there are no guarantees.
Given the generally unexciting NBA "product" that's on the market these days - and that's not just the disgruntled, nostalgic Celtic fan in me, although God knows I preferred an obstructed view seat in the Old Boston Garden watching good basketball, to an unobstructed view seat in the New Boston Garden watching not so good basketball, cheerleaders, and a light show - the NBA doesn't want teams throwing in the towel too early and deliberately tanking to make sure they get the Number 1 draft pick. Thus the proportionate but not absolute opportunity that accrues to the crappier teams.
Of which the Celtics are a stellar example.
The Celtics had about a 40% chance of getting either the number 1 or number 2 pick.
They got neither, coming away with number 5.
The team tried to put on its game face: 'there are a lot of good players out there' blah-di-blah.
But they were really expecting something a bit higher up the food chain.
Wyc Grousbeck even had on a (completely hideous) black suit with white and green pinstripes. Special suit for a special occasion.
According to The Boston Globe, "The Celtics, in anticipation of getting the first or second pick, had office staff standing by to field requests for seasons tickets." And the radio station that carries Celtic games had a party going at one of the bars near The Garden, as did a few other organizations.
Party hats and noisemakers for everyone!
At least the fans hanging out in bars ready to celebrate were able to drown their sorrows without having to go very far out of their way at all to drown their sorrows.
My friend and colleague Jeff called me the morning after the night before and asked me what all the hype and anticipation around "our" chances to nab the #1 or #2 draft pick reminded me of.
Genuity's IPO, of course.
Our IPO - the biggest on record at that point, mid-way through 2000 just as the bottom was falling out of the IPO market - was going to make us all rich!
Hurray for IPO's!
For those of us who lived through the build up and frenzy that attended the event; who saw applications for second mortgages smokin' off the fax machines; who played mental games with what we were going to do with all that money once our vesting period was up and we could sell....
Let down is not the right word.
Worse, the company planned a big IPO Day celebration, replete with party hats and noisemakers.
Well, by party time on IPO Day, most of the noise was being made by pissed-off employees complaining that we had been seduced into buying shares by senior management, and abandoned by a rotten market.
As I commented to one of my friends as we toasted the failed IPO with flat champagne, "There aren't enough office supplies in this place to make up for the losses employees face."
If we didn't have a 6 month waiting period, everyone would have dumped on day 2 and at least salvaged something.
But all the stock did was go down, down, down.
At least we all got capital losses to deduct. (The one bright side, given that there were definitely not enough office supplies to go around.)
As far as I recall, none of our executives wore a pinstriped suit in the Genuity colors (which, if the embroidery on my backpack is correct, were black and copper).
But it was, like the non-celebrations being held the other evening around Boston Garden, a definite case of celebratory prematurity.
How much more exciting and sensible if the Celtics and their fans had held off on the pinstriped suit and ready-to-raise glasses until the team could actually introduce a "franchise changer" like Gred Oden (likely #1) or Kevin Durant (likely #2) to the fans of Boston. But, no, the anticipation was so built up, all the fans are geared up for now is another disappointing season.
How much more gratifying and sensible if Genuity had planned to hold the big IPO party at the point when employees could have cashed in on our stock purchases six months out. Since at the point, it would have been clear to everyone that there was nothing to celebrate, the company could have saved on the party hats and noiseblowers, prevented a morale fiasco, and spared us all the spectacle of our senior execs looking sheepish and having to give little gung-ho speeches that were even more transparently BS-y than usual.
Which just goes to show you one more time, in business business or sporting business, you don't toast the deal, celebrate the victory, or light the victory cigar until you know the game is yours.
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And a tip of the Celtic leprechaun's bowler to Jeff H. for suggesting this blog topic, and reminding me yet again that I lost $11K (not accounting for the marvelous tax losses) on that $(*)#Q(*(&U Genuity IPO.
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