[When I was a kid in the early 1970s, I owned a wobbly red, white, and blue basketball and followed the ABA mostly via my subscription to the periodical Basketball News (BN). I remember vividly one day pulling the latest issue of BN out of the mailbox and reading the story below. It’s the first-person account of college star Jim Haderlein attending rookie camp in 1971 with the ABA Floridians. I mentioned the article a while back to my colleague Ray Lebov, and he recently stumbled upon the issue of BN and sent me a scan. Loved it. The Haderlein story obviously has lost its timeliness 50-plus years later. But it’s still an honest and fun look at the old ABA, and that’s why I’m passing it on.
Just for the record, the 6-feet-9 Haderlein had a real solid college career for then-Loyola University of Los Angeles. Haderlein was drafted late in the 1971 NBA and ABA drafts and, in April of that year, he signed with the Floridians. Here’s what Bob Bass, coach of the Floridians, had to say about the signing, “There’s no doubt that Haderlein can rebound. and that’s one of the areas where we’re looking for help. He’s had experience playing forward and post in college. We drafted him as a forward and consider him a strong outside shooter.” Those may have been the last positive words out of Bass’ mouth. See the story, which was published in the August 1971 issue of BN, with an editorial hand from Mike Morrow.]
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How could I forget the Floridians? How could I forget St. Leo’s College. Or Coach Bob Bass? Or some of my favorite players, including Ken May, a rich kid who collects toenails?
I never gave much thought to playing pro basketball until my junior year at Loyola. My coach, Dick Baker, said, “Jim, you can do it if you want to.” And now, I really want to play pro ball somewhere.
To me, the Floridians were only a team in the ABA. Then they drafted me, and I started keeping up on them. Finally, in April I signed, enabling me to give a little more time to my studies.
Rookie camp was supposed to start June 23. When school ended, I started playing in three summer leagues here [in Southern California]. I knew I had a lot to work on, and the leagues out here are awfully tough. Sidney Wicks, Curtis Rowe, and a dozen or so pro players take part, and, so far, I’ve done pretty well. I know I’m a better player now than I was in school.
The Floridians got me a 10 AM flight out of L.A., but the plane didn’t take off until 11:30. I was at the airport at eight that morning, so I had to wait three hours. Then, when I landed, the guy who was supposed to pick me up didn’t show, and I had to wait until 10 at night before we finally got together. I was in no condition to do anything.
I don’t know how, but I passed the physical. It was kinda funny when the doctor looked down my throat and asked me if I smoked. I told him no. I had to convince him that it was the L.A. smog that fouled up my lungs. Aside from that, everything was okay. I was surprised he didn’t look at my knees, they’re really bad, you know.
Somehow, I got up the next morning. We reported to the training table. What an experience. Grade-A dorm food: rubber eggs, grease, sour milk, the whole bit. Everyone complained, and I don’t think any of us were in any shape to run. Coach Bass asked me what was wrong, and I told him. He said he thought the food was fine. I don’t remember him sitting in with us.
The faces were for the most part unfamiliar. Oh, I knew a few of them, like Ken May and Dan Obravac from Dayton, Eddie Myers from Arizona, and Larry Holliday from Oregon. By the end of the camp, we were all pretty close.
The camp was held at St. Leo’s College, about 45 minutes from Tampa. It’s a nice school with a golf course nearby. There wasn’t a lot to do, so I spent most of my time in my room or by the pool. It was real hot and muggy. I remember it being about 80 one day, muggy, and then it started raining all of a sudden. I had to hide under a tree for about a half-hour.
The workouts were pretty basic. That’s one thing I discovered about Coach Bass. He did all the fundamental things. He didn’t say much either, unless we did something wrong. I didn’t know how I stood with him, because he rarely said anything nice. But maybe that was good, because I worked pretty hard after those first two days.
By then, the other guys were getting loose. I had played against Ken May twice before, and I knew he was a pretty good guy. I didn’t know his whole story, though, until Obravac mentioned something that afternoon. He asked May how his collection was coming.
“What collection?” I wanted to know. Then May took me to his room and showed me two jars. He had toenails, calluses, blisters, and some other things. He said his sister was going to make a mold out of the stuff and make him some bookends. I’ve been to Dayton; there’s really nothing better to do there than pick your toes.
I liked Ken May. He didn’t think much of Dayton either. He was good for a laugh. I’m only sorry he had to be hurt (leg muscle pull) and wasn’t able to go all out, but he’s got a no-cut contract.
Obravac was something else, too. He’s been playing in Europe, and I’ve been giving some thought to that possibility myself. It’s something to think about. I went bowling with him one day and rolled a 179. I hadn’t been bowling for 12 years. I didn’t tell him that, because he was mad enough as it was. He couldn’t get any shoes big enough—he wears a 15—so he had to play in his bare feet. He told me the only reason he reported to camp was to have a good time in Miami. He did, too.
Willie Long, the No. 1 pick from New Mexico, had a great attitude. It really surprised me because he was their big man, the guy who could do no wrong. His brow reminded me of Joe Frazier, and I asked him if he had done any fighting? (Long is 6-feet-8 and 240 pounds.) He said, “Naw, I got this way from concentrating.” Oh, sure. Coach Bass told me they were going to play Long at forward. I don’t think he can make it there. He’s not a good outside shooter, but he really handles himself well underneath.
The first scrimmage was on Saturday night. We had a workout that morning, and I went 5-for-10 in a three-point drill. I couldn’t even see the rim. The pressure was getting to us because there were a lot of people coming to our workouts, and they all looked important. Ned Doyle, the owner, and his wife came a lot, and I noticed they were huddled with someone most of the time.
Coach Bass put me on Willie Long that night. This was good, because I thought I could do a job on him and, if I did, it would help me. He got only one basket off me in 20 minutes; I scored 17 points and had 11 rebounds. I felt good, but Coach Bass didn’t say anything to me. I began to wonder just what I had to do to get him to notice me. I got some consolation when Mrs. Doyle smiled at me and said, “Hi, Jim.”
The Sunday game was another scrimmage, and I did even better. I scored 20 points and had 17 rebounds. I had Long for 30 minutes, and he got three field goals. The Floridians really built up this guy. In the papers it read: “Willie Long and 14 other rookies . . .” It wasn’t his fault, and he seemed embarrassed by the whole thing.
After the game, Coach Bass called everyone into his office. It was like Death Row, everyone waiting outside to be called in. No one said a word. It was scary, I felt like crying when some of the guys came out of there.
I spent about a half hour in there with him. He told me he couldn’t understand what my problem was. I told him the first two days were really tough for me because of my being sick and all. He said he understood, but I began to wonder after we talked. He’s a real quiet guy who comments more on what you do wrong than anything else. He doesn’t use positive reinforcement. I could see it might be easy to get “down” if you spent a lot of time with him. [Floridians star] Mack Calvin told me that Coach Bass rarely praises anyone, that he doesn’t say many nice things about anyone.
The pressure of the four days was great. Of course, most of It was self-imposed, but what else can you do when you see so many people sitting around watching you? You know every move you make is being recorded and, if you make a mistake, you feel like you’re through. I’m fortunate, I guess, that I got invited back to the regular camp in September.
Since I got home, I’ve thought about a lot of things. [One NBA team has contacted Haderlein about trying out.] I still don’t know what my plans are, and it was only recently that the Floridians told me they wanted me to come back. But I’ve got to go at my own expense. “Spend some of that bonus money,” they told me.
I had fun, I met a lot of nice people. I remember one day when I got frustrated, and I wanted to go somewhere. I left my room, went out to the highway, and stuck out my thumb. Then I realized I didn’t have anywhere to go. I returned to my room and went to sleep.
I only can hope I’ll have somewhere to go in September. Playing pro basketball is the pinnacle. You know how you work for something so long and finally have a chance to be the best? Well, I’ve worked hard, and I’d like to be given a good chance. I know I’ll be ready by September. Believe me.
[On September 23, the Floridians waived Haderlein near the end of the preseason to trim their roster to 13 players, still one over the regular-season limit. Haderlein settled down in Irvine, CA, gave up basketball for a little golf, and started working for the Automobile Club of Southern California. All too bad. He could play.]
From Way Downtown 