A lottery is defined as activity or event regarded as having an outcome depending on fate.
Last I checked, the words fate and discreet aren’t synonyms. And the NBA’s latest gimmick of the Chicago Bulls’ winning the No. 1 overall pick is an absolute sham.
A prediction of NBA commissioner David Stern’s response? It would go something like this: “It wasn’t a gimmick. It wasn’t a sham. It was a mathematical 1.7 percent chance of winning the first overall pick that came true.”
So the 1.7 percent chance comes a year after the Portland Trail Blazers capitalized on a 5.3 percent chance, jumping up several spots to snag Ohio State center Greg Oden.
“Huge, unbelievably huge,” Trail Blazers general manager Kevin Pritchard said a year ago. “Franchise making. … Rip City again, here we come.”
I have no problems with franchise-changing lotteries. When the first draft lottery took place in 1985, my hometown team’s franchise was changed. It was a seven-team race, with each team having an equal chance of winning the No. 1 pick.
That year, first prize won you Georgetown center Patrick Ewing. And everyone remembers New York Knicks general manager Dave DeBusschere’s emphatic fist pump when he rose from his lottery seat.
The Knicks never won anything with Ewing. But more importantly, fans of pro basketball have never won anything with this system over the last 22 years.
The first step to the lottery process? Away from the cameras, 14 ping pong balls, labeled 1 through 14, are inserted into a hopper machine. Prior to the lottery, 1,000 combinations are randomly assigned to the 14 lottery teams by computer.
But do any of these details matter when I, the trusted ESPN viewer, cannot see what is going on? Should that honestly happen?
There’s no reason to worry, though. The NBA is an organization that should be wholeheartedly trusted.
Trusted for referees like Tim Donaghy, whose poker games drew a King James, a Dirk and a Duncan.
Trusted for new claims by Donaghy that relationships between players, coaches and officials “affected the outcome of games.”
The actual lottery process took place prior to the beginning of ESPN’s nauseating presentation, with NBA officials, representatives of the participating teams, privileged media members and the brass of the accounting firm of Ernst & Young in attendance.
Translation? Everyone who doesn’t contribute a cent to the NBA’s mass enterprise of $1200 courtside tickets and $8 footlong hot dogs.
But there’s no reason to be upset. I’m more interested in hearing Doris Burke ask Kevin Durant whether he’d be excited to play alongside Michael Beasley. That’s quality television.
NBA Deputy Commissioner Adam Silver agrees with me. Even he was unaware of the final placements until he opened the envelopes on stage.
Does anyone care about Adam Silver? To be honest, a piece of my draft lottery spirit was missing without ex-Deputy Commissioner Russ Granik. I loved that guy – always getting booed during the second round selections in the 1990s. He had that adorably awkward smile. That’s quality television, too.
If David Stern wanted to bring greater accountability to a league whose image has been severely damaged over the last 18 months, those ball hoppers would be brought on stage, where interested fans around the world could watch and see the results.
Would you buy a lottery ticket from your home state without a broadcast of those balls popping on your local news networks?
I’ll admit it. I was captivated by Stuart Scott’s breathtaking lexicon. He’s really gotten his foot in the sports broadcasting door.
I was also in awe of the three Bud Light commercials that I saw in the 15 minutes of ESPN jargon before the pre-lottery interviews even started. Anheuser-Busch should rethink its decision to pay for a six-figure ad during a process that is far from clean, far from crisp, and far from refreshing.
Deputy sports editor Chris Gentilviso is a Medill junior. He can be reached at [email protected].
