ATLANTA — Let me begin by saying I know what it’s like to sit in Gucci Row in NBA arenas. Although, back in those times, it was not known as Gucci Row; it was known as press seating, with no sponsor attached because no sponsor would have us, probably because of the gravy stain.
The view came with accepted dangers. When a power forward charged for a loose ball directly in front of me, I strangely was more inclined to protect my computer like my infant child and leave less valuable assets like my head exposed. But sitting in the front row during my time covering the “Showtime” Lakers in Los Angeles also afforded me wonderful insights from being close to interactions on the court and overhearing the conversations of players, coaches and officials. (Hello, content.)
Advertisement
Eventually, NBA owners got smart. They moved sportswriters several rows back and, in many cases, upstairs and sold those prime seats to celebrities and other wealthy individuals, for whom six-digit-dollar season tickets aren’t a problem. Around the NBA, these are known as “Feet on the Wood” seats.
Well, there was a problem on the wood Sunday night. Late in the second quarter of the playoff game between the Suns and Nuggets, Josh Okogie of Phoenix was knocked off balance as he went into the corner for a loose ball and fell into the first two rows of fans. The ball was grabbed by Suns owner Mat Ishbia. The Nuggets’ Nikola Jokić immediately and wisely went to the scene of the pileup to get the ball for an inbound play.
Ishbia, a former basketball walk-on at Michigan State, a chip that never leaves a man’s shoulder, clutched the ball like it was one of his bank notes. Jokić attempted to pull the ball away, there was brief contact between the two, and then Ishbia followed with the mother of all flops. (Jokić received a technical for what officials believed was a shove. As expected, the NBA decided Monday not to suspend Jokić for any games in this playoff series.)
As one NBA executive told The Athletic: “His basketball instincts kicked in. He reverted back to the guy who drew charges in practice.”
Therein lies the difference between this incident and most other player-fan interactions. Many who are afforded front-row seats are there for reasons other than basketball: to be seen by others among the upper crust or “Succession” set; to elevate their Q rating; to help promote a movie or TV show or their music.
Even those who are actual fans of the team and/or know basketball aren’t going to intentionally hold the ball or fake a charge to benefit their team, as Ishbia appeared to be doing. The guy looked like a former high school jock who shows up at the 20-year reunion and immediately tries to organize a skins-shirts pickup game.
Advertisement
There will be no campaign to move the obnoxious rich people off the court in this space. They’ve become part of the scene of NBA games in every city now, and more importantly to the owners and the commissioner, those revenue streams aren’t going to be smothered and kicked into Row 7.
But here’s a policy the league should adopt: Ban owners from the court. They own the team and sometimes the arena. Their fortunes swing on wins and losses. They have too much of a vested interest to put them that close to the action. There’s a code of conduct policy that comes with floor seats, and in some cases, it’s even taped to the chairs. It includes things like no profanity and no walking onto the court.
Nobody thought of the need to add something like, “Don’t hold on to the ball and play keep-away.”
I live in Atlanta. Hawks owner Tony Ressler gets emotional now and then, and away from the arena, he’s certainly wound differently than the rest of us, as is the case with most self-made billionaires. But he’s also smart enough to sit about 15 rows up in State Farm Arena.
That’s not the case with Mavericks owner Mark Cuban, who has accumulated fines totaling more than $3 million, The Ringer estimated in 2020. Some of those resulted from leaving his floor seat to confront officials and once for cursing at the Spurs’ Bruce Bowen. Stick him in an owner’s box, where the worst thing he can do is Tweet.
What happened Sunday was not “Malice at the Palace” level, when an on-court fight between the Pacers and Pistons spilled into the crowd in Indianapolis after some knucklehead several rows up threw his drink at Ron Artest. NBA games are more susceptible to player-fan interaction than other pro sports simply because of their proximity to each other. Things are going to happen. But some things — these things — are avoidable.
Advertisement
Two years ago, when NBA arenas opened to limited capacity during the pandemic, two Hawks fans and floor seat holders, Chris Carlos and his wife, Juliana, picked a verbal fight with the Lakers’ LeBron James. Obscenities followed. Both were ejected.
Juliana later said in an impromptu interview: “I (told James), ‘Don’t f—— talk to my husband. Talk to my husband one more time and I will f— you up.”
James was amused. He later dubbed her “Courtside Karen.”
Courtside Karen was MAD MAD!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
— LeBron James (@KingJames) February 2, 2021
He told media members: “There was a back-and-forth between two grown men. We said our piece. Then someone else jumped into it and said their piece. But I don’t think they should’ve been kicked out. But they might’ve had a couple of drinks maybe.”
Maybe. Or sometimes this level of obnoxiousness just comes naturally.
But most celebrities and others up front don’t engage. For decades, verbal exchanges involving Jack Nicholson at Lakers games and Spike Lee at Knicks games were humorous. I was in Los Angeles when then-owner Jerry Buss wanted to milk the city’s Hollywood element for all it was worth, and it worked. The only time Nicholson took fandom too far was in a 2003 playoff game against the Spurs, when he walked onto the court and berated an official for a foul call against Shaquille O’Neal.
“I pay a lot of money for this seat,” Nicholson said later. “This is the NBA. You can’t tell me to sit down.”
“Give me five, Jack. He needed that,” actress Dyan Cannon told Nicholson.
They hang together on the mean streets of Hollywood.
Ironically, this moment came when Nicholson’s movie “Anger Management” was in theaters.
Officials contemplated throwing Nicholson out of the arena but presumably feared martinis being thrown at them from the front row. Besides, it was a relatively harmless, even amusing, confrontation with a celebrity.
Advertisement
It’s different with owners. They are emotionally and financially invested. They shouldn’t be down there. Let them scream and wave their arms from above, where their words and actions aren’t going to impact a game. Their feet can walk on the wood when the game’s over.
(Photo of Nikola Jokić looking down at Suns owner Mat Ishbia: Aaron Ontiveroz / The Denver Post)
ncG1vNJzZmismJqutbTLnquim16YvK57k21wcm1naXxzfJFsZmltX2WFcLrUoJ6erKNiwLa60malopufoa5uts6koJxln6y7pr6MppitZZmotaO1wGalm5ldpbmixc6fnaxn