My main impression after reading the book was that if I had to make a choice between working the NBA when Earl came up or never working the NBA at all, I would choose not to work the NBA.
I can't imagine:
routinely having to fight my way out of gyms;
holding a full time job to support my family while still having to fly around the country, getting in at 4 am;
having partners that were regularly unreliable;
among other things.
The story about working the second half of an NBA game alone b/c his partner was up in the stands trying to close a sale is unbeLEEEEEEEEEvable. If I had a partner do that to me in a JV game, I would go berserk and probably try to get him removed from the association. That's just inconceivable to me.
I know it was a different era, and I know that guys didn't get the same training then that they do now before working the league. But this is the second time in just under maybe 3 months that I've read about an NBA official who didn't understand that you walk away after giving a technical foul. How can you work the top level of basketball in the world without somebody mentioning this little "game management" gem to you? Again, I find that remarkable.
I enjoyed the book and the stories of his conversations with players. It was very cool to hear about how he worked the first game ever played by such-and-such a player and then years later also worked that guy's last game. As an official, I also enjoy watching the kids come up from younger levels through high school, so I think I can identify a little with that experience.
I also wish that some things could be a little more like they were then. For instance, the strict "non-fraternizing" rules were not in place then. You could get to know the coaches or players and they could see that you were a human being. Now, that kind of interaction is strictly taboo.
Other than that, though, I'm glad it was Earl trying to push his way through the crowds and not me 🙂
Chuck