October 2024 - Page 2 of 3 - Adamsonmedia.com

The Doctor is out

**Julius Erving (left) battles with Utah’s Willie Wise during an ABA game.**

Sports fans always remember the great moments … championships, last-gasp victories, record-breaking performances.

But guess what?

**Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Bluesky @scottadamson1960 and Adamsonmedia on Facebook.**

We also remember the bitter disappointments.

On June 17, 1976, it was announced that the National Basketball Association would absorb four members of my beloved American Basketball Association – the Denver Nuggets, Indiana Pacers, New York Nets and San Antonio Spurs.

As a Nets fan, I was glad my favorite team lived on – and that I could watch them on TV – but I was crushed at the demise of the ABA. The league that featured red, white and blue basketballs and free-wheeling play turned me from a casual basketball fan to a basketball fan for life, and now it was gone.

But what might have been even worse was the news that broke on this day 48 years ago: Julius Erving had been traded to the Philadelphia 76ers.

I found out immediately as I opened the local paper and turned to the sports pages:

A $6.5 million deal which would bring pro basketball superstar Julius Erving to the Philadelphia 76ers from the New York Nets awaited only the final approval of Nets owner Roy Bee, the Associated Press learned. The deal, it was learned from pro basketball sources, could be completed later at a private meeting in New York. It reportedly calls for the Nets to get $3 million for Erving, who would then sign a multi-year contract with the 76ers for a reported $3.5 million.

I didn’t cry – I was a big, brave boy in 1976 – but I cussed.

Just as the Nets were my favorite team, Dr. J was my favorite player. In fact, he was the reason I became a Nets fan.

After the UMass grad starred for the Virginia Squires for three seasons, he was signed by New York in 1973. I was familiar with the ABA during his time in Norfolk/Hampton/Richmond/Roanoke (CBS televised select games in the early 1970s), but it wasn’t until Erving took his dunking act to the Big Apple that I became committed to the league that dared challenge the NBA.

Without a national TV contract most of my fan worship was confined to newspaper stories, but I anxiously awaited word of his exploits.

And once I got over the disappointment of the NBA-ABA merger, I was excited that the Nets could show the old circuit how it was done.

They were coming off an ABA title, one that saw them best the Denver Nuggets in six games. It was their second title in three seasons, and I had no doubt they could jump right into an NBA schedule and win big.

I mean, with Kevin Loughery coaching ‘em up, the Doctor dissecting the opposition and Super John Williamson scoring at will, there was little doubt they’d teach the old guard some new tricks.

Instead, everything was blown up with the loss of Dr. J, and that left me in a bit of a quandary.

See, while the Nets were my overall faves, the Los Angeles Lakers were the NBA team I supported.

Would I abandon both and throw my support behind Dr. J and the 76ers – a franchise I’d never given a second thought?

Kinda, and no.

I couldn’t bail on the Doc, but I had invested so much energy cheering for the Nets (and to a lesser degree, the Lakers) they felt like “my” teams, regardless of who put on the uniform. (Tiny Archibald and Jan van Breda Kolff were on the 76-77 New York roster, while L.A. was led by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar). So – in what I think was a quite mature decision for a 15-year-old – I decided that I would always hope Erving played well. But … when he played against the Nets or Lakers, I’d hope he didn’t play that well.

Historically, of course, Dr. J is best known for his time in Philly. He spent just five years in the ABA (three with New York) and played his last 11 seasons with the 76ers.

The end result is 30,026 points (a 24.2 ppg average across the ABA and NBA), a place in the Basketball Hall of Fame and College Basketball Hall of Fame, the ABA All-Time MVP, NBA 35^th, 50^th and 75^th Anniversary Teams, an NBA title and pair of ABA crowns.

Decades later, I remain a fan of the Nets and Lakers – and Julius Erving remains my all-time favorite player.

However, I’ve still never cheered for the 76ers.

Pro football’s 1944 logjam

President Harry Truman receives a gold pass to all All-America Football Conference games during the 1949 season. Left to right are Robert Embry of the Baltimore Colts, Truman, Commodore O. O. Kessing, commissioner of the All-America Football Conference; and Walter Driskill, president and G.M. of the Colts.

The thought of any upstart challenging the National Football League seems ludicrous in 2024. Considered the most powerful professional sports league on the planet, the NFL generated more than 20 billion dollars in revenue last year, according to Statista.

Simply put, it’s peerless.

But that wasn’t always the case.

The circuit celebrated its Silver Anniversary in 1944. And while it had established longevity after a quarter century of competition, it was not yet considered untouchable.

The league played a 10-game regular season 80 years ago, with a lineup that featured the Boston Yanks, Brooklyn Tigers, Card-Pitt (the Chicago Cardinals and Pittsburgh Steelers merged for the season due to player shortages caused by World War II), Chicago Bears, Cleveland Rams, Detroit Lions, Green Bay Packers, New York Giants, Philadelphia Eagles and Washington Redskins.

College football was king and the NFL was still primarily a regional operation, meaning intrepid souls who wanted to expand the pro game’s footprint had a real opportunity. And in 1944, the All-America Football Conference, Trans-American Football League and United States Football League all formed, taking aim at a piece of the play-for-pay pie.

Out of the gate first was the original iteration of the USFL, which was announced on July 24, 1944, in Philadelphia.

The league hoped to play its first season in 1945 – “war conditions permitting,” according to United Press International – and would feature Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore and Pittsburgh in the Eastern Division and Akron, Cincinnati, Chicago, St. Louis and Honolulu in the West.

Roland Donald Payne, a Pittsburgh industrialist who founded the USFL, said he had also received applications from investors in Seattle, Portland, Buffalo, Detroit, San Francisco, Los Angeles, New Orleans and Dallas/Fort Worth.

The Honolulu entry had already been nicknamed the Bears and tapped F. J. Brickner as its head coach.

Due to travel issues, Honolulu would be based in California the first half of the season and play all its road games traveling from its West Coast base. The Bears would then return to the islands for the second half of the campaign and contest the rest of their slate at home.

Payne said that the clubs had posted anywhere from $60,000 to $250,000 in start-up costs.

Next up was the All-America Football Conference, which was introduced on September 2, 1944, in Chicago.

The brainchild of Chicago Tribune sports editor Arch Ward, the AAFC would be a coast-to-coast league with teams owned by “men of millionaire incomes” and begin play in 1945. Flagship cities and their owners were reported to be: Chicago, (John L. Keeshin, president of trucking concern); New York, (Eleanor Gehrig, Lou Gehrig’s widow, and Ray J. Ryan, oil company president); Baltimore, (former heavyweight boxing champion Gene Tunney); Buffalo, (James Breuil and Will Bennett, oil company executives, and Sam Cordavano, construction company head); Cleveland, (Arthur McBride, taxicab magnate); Los Angeles, (actor Don Ameche and Christy Walsh, former newspaper syndicate director); and San Francisco, (Anthony J. Morabito and Allan E. Sorrell, co-owners of a lumber terminal concern, and Ernest J. Turre, construction company manager).

Ward added that prominent business leaders in Detroit, Philadelphia and Boston were also seeking franchises for those cities.

And the third challenger, the Trans-American Football League, announced its intentions on September 18, 1944, in New York.

League president Chick Meehan said Baltimore, Dallas, Houston, Los Angeles, New York and Philadelphia were charter members of the TAFL, and groups from Boston and Miami were also being considered.

Teams would travel to games almost exclusively via airplane (hence the “Trans-America” name) and the league was slated to begin play “after the war.”

For a while, it appeared that two of the three had a chance to be successful. The USFL made the biggest splash early on by convincing gridiron legend Red Grange to become commissioner. The AAFC countered by tapping “Sleepy Jim” Crowley as its commish; he was one of the “Four Horsemen of Notre Dame.”

The TAFL, meanwhile, was pushing for a merger with the NFL without ever playing a game. Meehan also hinted that if his league couldn’t find a suitable place to play in New York, it would give up the fight.

As WWII continued, starting play in 1945 wasn’t feasible for any of the newbies. Thus, they’d have another year to prepare.

The USFL and TAFL didn’t need it; they both called it quits on June 4, 1945.

Once the NFL announced that Brooklyn would make Yankee Stadium home, that convinced owners in those two fledgling organizations to fold since they were counting on use of the famed baseball grounds to host their New York area entries.

“With Yankee Stadium, I had plenty of ammunition,” Meehan told UPI. “Without it, I just had conversation.”

But the AAFC had already invested $3 million in players, coaches and franchises, and refused to give up. While it also coveted Yankee Stadium for its club, league officials said 30,000-seat Triboro Municipal Stadium would do just fine.

There were no AAFC games played in 1945, yet Ward and company continued to build a strong foundation. Ward said in December of that year the NFL had already paid more than $100,000 to keep its players from jumping to his league.

“Anyone of several of our teams has more money behind it than the entire National Football League,” he claimed.

NFL commissioner Elmer Layden (along with Crowley, one of the Four Horsemen), didn’t take the challenge seriously.

“They should first get a ball, then make a schedule, and then play a game,” he said.

In 1946 – with the United States Football League and Trans-American Football League distant memories – the All-America Football Conference proved it had balls. It also had a schedule and games.

Populating the league were the Buffalo Bisons, Brooklyn Dodgers, Chicago Rockets, Cleveland Browns, Los Angeles Dons, Miami Seahawks, New York Yankees and San Francisco 49ers.

Although the NFL tried to dismiss their rivals, it became apparent early on that it was a quality operation with stars such as quarterback Otto Graham and fullback Marion Motley of Cleveland, New York ballcarrier Frank Sinkwich and Los Angeles signal caller Angelo Bertelli.

By 1949, the AAFC was on par with the NFL – at least.

And just before its championship game between the 49ers and Browns, Cleveland, San Francisco and the Baltimore Colts, a franchise that replaced Miami in 1947, for the 1950 season, were admitted to the NFL.

The Dons merged with the Los Angeles Rams and the remaining AAFC clubs were shuttered.

While the 49ers (3-9) and Colts (1-11) struggled in their first NFL season, the Browns most certainly did not.

In September, the Browns defeated the two-time defending NFL champion Philadelphia Eagles, 35-10. NFL commissioner Bert Bell – who took over in 1946 – called the franchise from the (former) rival league, “the greatest team I ever saw.”

Cleveland won the American Conference with an 11-2 record (it beat the New York Giants, 8-3, in a conference tiebreaker game) and seized the NFL crown with a 30-28 victory over Los Angeles – which had several former Dons players on the roster.

After once looking down its nose at the AAFC, the NFL realized the addition of teams from the younger league made it better.

Of course, something like that could never happen today. But thanks to the seeds planted in 1944, remnants of the All-America Football Conference live on in the world’s premiere tackle football league.

The Crossroads

Everybody in Mississippi knew the legend of ‘The Crossroads.”

Hell, anybody who ever picked up a guitar knew where Robert Johnson’s deal with the devil was made. They also knew the cost involved.

And when Bestor Teevens decided to go there, he did so with the full knowledge that he would gain a lot and lose a lot.

So, he gently laid his LSC1-WH white electric guitar into the back seat of his faded red, 2001 Ford Festiva, cranked the engine, and headed towards Clarksdale.

The trip would take maybe three hours – four if traffic was bad and he had multiple pee stops – and he sure didn’t want to spend all that travel time ruminating about what awaited at the end of his journey.

He did, however, think about what made him want to go.

He remembered that old toy guitar that he wore out as a boy, banging away at it for hours but never learning to make anything with it other than noise.

Then there were those play-by-number books he got through the mail – the ones that came from a special TV offer and pimped by a “famous” guitarist who he had never heard of.

As much as he wanted to master the guitar, picking and plucking just didn’t come naturally to him. The Crossroads was his last hope … it might have been his only hope all along.

But still, he dreamed, and the portable CD player plugged into the car’s cigarette lighter helped provide inspiration.

There was “Born Under a Bad Sign” by Albert King … “Live at the Regal” by B.B. King … “Texas Flood” by Stevie Ray Vaughan. And of course, there had to be some Robert Johnson.

Had to be.

So, once he figured he was less that an hour away from the intersection of Highways 61 and 49, he decided to play the compilation album released in 1961.

Appropriately enough, it opened with “Crossroad Blues.”

By the time Bestor arrived at his destination, “Hellhound On My Trail” was playing.

I can tell the wind is risin’, the leaves tremblin’ on the tree … tremblin’ on the tree. I can tell the wind is risin’, the leaves tremblin’ on the tree … tremblin’ on the tree. Hmm-hmm, hmm-hmm. All I need’s my little sweet woman, and to keep my company. Hmm-hmm, hmm-hmm.

It was a breezy day and the leaves were, in fact, tremblin’ on the tree. Bestor didn’t really notice as he reached into the backseat, grabbed his guitar, and got out of the car.

Before he could close the door, he saw a mountain of man standing before him, wearing a fedora hat and flashing a toothy grin.

“You must be Scratch,” Bestor said.

“And you must be Mr. Bestor Teevens. Welcome to The Crossroads, my friend.”

Bestor walked closely behind Scratch, realizing there was no turning back. By god, he was going to learn to play the blues, and he was willing to pay the price.

“OK,” Scratch said. “We’re going to meet once a week here at the Crossroads Center, and the lessons will normally last 60 minutes. The cost of the first lesson is $50 due to our introductory offer, and after that it’s $120 per session. Now, I need you to sign this waiver saying you accept the fact that you have committed to eight consecutive weeks of lessons and the money is non-refundable …”