Post by Toy-Cannon on Apr 25, 2017 9:28:23 GMT
Former NBA referee Kersey dies at age 76
ess Kersey's proudest officiating moment wasn't about him. It didn't involve Kareem, Jordan, Bird or LeBron. It wasn't derived from the staggering numbers he compiled refereeing professional basketball for three decades.
Indeed, the memory that made Kersey beam most came eight years after his final game.
It was the 2015 NCAA Final Four in Indianapolis, where his oldest son, Bryan, refereed on college basketball's grandest stage. How important was that experience to Jess?
He postponed a chemotherapy treatment to make it happen.
The cancer that first struck Kersey weeks before the trip took his life Saturday morning. He was 76 and died at his Williamsburg home, family at his side — he is survived by his wife, Kathy, and sons Bryan and Todd.
"Every aspect of my life, he influenced," Bryan said. "He was a great father and a great referee."
Though his dad, a welder by trade, volunteered as a baseball and softball umpire, Kersey had no ambition to officiate any sport. A 1958 Newport News High School graduate, he was an accomplished athlete as a student and adult, playing two decades at second base for the renowned Fox Hill fast-pitch softball team.
But as a youth director in Newport News, he refereed kids' basketball games in a pinch, catching the eye of Otis Almond, an established college official from the area. Soon Kersey was fast-tracking from high school to college to the American Basketball Association to the NBA.
Kersey's first pro assignment was a 1974 Carolina Cougars-New York Nets exhibition at Appalachian State University. His career numbers: 2,200 NBA games, 190 in the playoffs, 19 NBA Finals and five All-Star games.
"It's the greatest job in the world," Kersey told the Daily Press' Dave Fairbank when he was inducted into the Virginia Sports Hall of Fame in 2012. "You only have to concentrate for two hours-and-a-half."
Few did it better.
"Jess Kersey's magnetic personality and engaging communication skills were part of the reason for his success as an NBA referee," said Bob Delaney, the league's vice president of referee operations and director of officials. "Rules knowledge and play-calling abilities are expected, yet those who get to the top of our profession understand how to interact with the will-to-win emotions and heat-of-the-moment reactions by player and coaches. Jess had great people skills that served the NBA well."
Delaney knows first-hand. As a rookie official in 1987, he was assigned to work a majority of his games with Kersey.
That was the final season of two-man crews — the NBA added a third referee to each contest in 1988-89 — and life on the road together bonded the pair indelibly.
So when Delaney learned recently that Kersey's health was failing, he and a co-worker took photos and videos around the NBA office, where pictures, several showing Kersey, adorn the walls. Delaney sent them to Bryan for sharing with his dad.
"I had the honor and privilege to be mentored by Jess not only about the game of basketball but also about all the nuances of our profession," Delaney said. "I'm eternally grateful to him."
"The NBA family mourns the passing of former longtime referee Jess Kersey," the league tweeted to its nearly 25 million followers Saturday afternoon. "Jess relished the job and was one of the best at his craft."
The iconic photo of Kersey on the job is of him separating two very large humans, Mitch Kupchak and Hakeem Olajuwon, during a scuffle. Arms wrapped around Olajuwon, head imbedded in Olajuwon's ribs, Kersey still has his whistle in his mouth.
But Bryan said the only picture prominently displayed in his dad's office is of Larry Johnson making a late 3-pointer for the New York Knicks against the Indiana Pacers in Game 3 of the 1999 Eastern Conference finals.
Kersey whistled Indiana's Antonio Davis for a questionable foul on the shot, and Johnson's subsequent free throw gave New York a 92-91 victory.
"I knew right away I had screwed that play up," Kersey told ESPN The Magazine a year later. "As a ref you don't need to see it on tape. You know it, you feel it. … I took something away from a team that didn't deserve to have it taken away."
Of all the mementos, why display that painful one?
"The ones that stay with you are the ones that you missed," Delaney said. "It's a constant reminder that you're pursuing perfection. … That's the official's mindset: pursue perfection, with the reality that there's no perfect game out there."
Kersey took Bryan to scores of games, and when he couldn't he always returned with a trinket. A basketball, pair of socks, T-shirt, even a bag of airline peanuts.
Bryan's career path was clear and he became a staple in the ACC and other major conferences. He worked in the college ranks for 30 years before transitioning to administration this past season as the ACC's supervisor of officials.
The disarming manner Bryan brought to the college game was reflection of Jess.
"He wanted me to be great," Bryan said. "He encouraged me to be great. He pushed me every day, critiquing games, telling me what I was doing right, a lot of times telling me what I was doing wrong. … I just hope all these guys who work for me, I can pass something down to them from him."
Late in his NBA career, Kersey took an involuntary sabbatical. In April 1997, federal authorities charged him and six colleagues with filing false tax returns — they didn't report as income, money they received from downgrading to coach from the first-class airline tickets provided by the NBA.
Kersey pleaded guilty, paid back taxes and a $20,000 fine, served three years' probation and was forced to resign.
Why mention this at such a solemn moment? Because Kersey's response speaks to his considerable character.
Rather than stew in bitterness, denial or shame, he shared his setback with church groups, troubled kids and respected business types. Such remorse and humility earned him reinstatement from an uncompromising boss: then-NBA commissioner David Stern.
Moreover, Stern wrote the following in recommending Kersey for the Virginia Sports Hall of Fame: "While (his statistics) alone are impressive, the truest measures of Jess's success are the consistent excellence, integrity, and work ethic he displayed in one of the most difficult jobs in all of sports."
"The toughest (time) I ever spent," Kersey told me in 2001 of his NBA leave. "It's something you grow from or go into a cave and hide from. If you try to hide the truth, you do somebody an injustice."
As reflective as Kersey was then, he was at his best spinning yarns. And heaven knows he had plenty of material.
"Oh, my goodness, and some of them were actually true," joked Henry Morgan, a friend and former softball teammate. "He was very funny and entertaining. … He was also a very caring person. He did a lot of little things for people."
The owner of the Peninsula Pilots baseball team, Morgan and Kersey shared a love of that sport, especially at the grassroots level. Kersey attended many Pilots games in the Coastal Plain League, a summer outlet for college players, and was a regular at the Little League World Series in Williamsport, Pa.
But it was basketball that captured his heart, witness the NBA T-shirt he wore during his final days.
Grinding through seasons into his late 60s, Kersey understood his time on the court was short. But the end was sudden.
In an April 2007 game, Kersey was unable to avoid a collision with Los Angeles Clippers guard Corey Maggette in a transition sequence. Ensuing left-hip replacement sidelined him permanently.
"With me being 5-10 and 160 pounds, and Corey being 6-5 and 225 pounds, I did not win that battle," Kersey said five years later.
Block or charge?
Jess Kersey probably would have whistled himself for the foul
Indeed, the memory that made Kersey beam most came eight years after his final game.
It was the 2015 NCAA Final Four in Indianapolis, where his oldest son, Bryan, refereed on college basketball's grandest stage. How important was that experience to Jess?
He postponed a chemotherapy treatment to make it happen.
The cancer that first struck Kersey weeks before the trip took his life Saturday morning. He was 76 and died at his Williamsburg home, family at his side — he is survived by his wife, Kathy, and sons Bryan and Todd.
"Every aspect of my life, he influenced," Bryan said. "He was a great father and a great referee."
Though his dad, a welder by trade, volunteered as a baseball and softball umpire, Kersey had no ambition to officiate any sport. A 1958 Newport News High School graduate, he was an accomplished athlete as a student and adult, playing two decades at second base for the renowned Fox Hill fast-pitch softball team.
But as a youth director in Newport News, he refereed kids' basketball games in a pinch, catching the eye of Otis Almond, an established college official from the area. Soon Kersey was fast-tracking from high school to college to the American Basketball Association to the NBA.
Kersey's first pro assignment was a 1974 Carolina Cougars-New York Nets exhibition at Appalachian State University. His career numbers: 2,200 NBA games, 190 in the playoffs, 19 NBA Finals and five All-Star games.
"It's the greatest job in the world," Kersey told the Daily Press' Dave Fairbank when he was inducted into the Virginia Sports Hall of Fame in 2012. "You only have to concentrate for two hours-and-a-half."
Few did it better.
"Jess Kersey's magnetic personality and engaging communication skills were part of the reason for his success as an NBA referee," said Bob Delaney, the league's vice president of referee operations and director of officials. "Rules knowledge and play-calling abilities are expected, yet those who get to the top of our profession understand how to interact with the will-to-win emotions and heat-of-the-moment reactions by player and coaches. Jess had great people skills that served the NBA well."
Delaney knows first-hand. As a rookie official in 1987, he was assigned to work a majority of his games with Kersey.
That was the final season of two-man crews — the NBA added a third referee to each contest in 1988-89 — and life on the road together bonded the pair indelibly.
So when Delaney learned recently that Kersey's health was failing, he and a co-worker took photos and videos around the NBA office, where pictures, several showing Kersey, adorn the walls. Delaney sent them to Bryan for sharing with his dad.
"I had the honor and privilege to be mentored by Jess not only about the game of basketball but also about all the nuances of our profession," Delaney said. "I'm eternally grateful to him."
"The NBA family mourns the passing of former longtime referee Jess Kersey," the league tweeted to its nearly 25 million followers Saturday afternoon. "Jess relished the job and was one of the best at his craft."
The iconic photo of Kersey on the job is of him separating two very large humans, Mitch Kupchak and Hakeem Olajuwon, during a scuffle. Arms wrapped around Olajuwon, head imbedded in Olajuwon's ribs, Kersey still has his whistle in his mouth.
But Bryan said the only picture prominently displayed in his dad's office is of Larry Johnson making a late 3-pointer for the New York Knicks against the Indiana Pacers in Game 3 of the 1999 Eastern Conference finals.
Kersey whistled Indiana's Antonio Davis for a questionable foul on the shot, and Johnson's subsequent free throw gave New York a 92-91 victory.
"I knew right away I had screwed that play up," Kersey told ESPN The Magazine a year later. "As a ref you don't need to see it on tape. You know it, you feel it. … I took something away from a team that didn't deserve to have it taken away."
Of all the mementos, why display that painful one?
"The ones that stay with you are the ones that you missed," Delaney said. "It's a constant reminder that you're pursuing perfection. … That's the official's mindset: pursue perfection, with the reality that there's no perfect game out there."
Kersey took Bryan to scores of games, and when he couldn't he always returned with a trinket. A basketball, pair of socks, T-shirt, even a bag of airline peanuts.
Bryan's career path was clear and he became a staple in the ACC and other major conferences. He worked in the college ranks for 30 years before transitioning to administration this past season as the ACC's supervisor of officials.
The disarming manner Bryan brought to the college game was reflection of Jess.
"He wanted me to be great," Bryan said. "He encouraged me to be great. He pushed me every day, critiquing games, telling me what I was doing right, a lot of times telling me what I was doing wrong. … I just hope all these guys who work for me, I can pass something down to them from him."
Late in his NBA career, Kersey took an involuntary sabbatical. In April 1997, federal authorities charged him and six colleagues with filing false tax returns — they didn't report as income, money they received from downgrading to coach from the first-class airline tickets provided by the NBA.
Kersey pleaded guilty, paid back taxes and a $20,000 fine, served three years' probation and was forced to resign.
Why mention this at such a solemn moment? Because Kersey's response speaks to his considerable character.
Rather than stew in bitterness, denial or shame, he shared his setback with church groups, troubled kids and respected business types. Such remorse and humility earned him reinstatement from an uncompromising boss: then-NBA commissioner David Stern.
Moreover, Stern wrote the following in recommending Kersey for the Virginia Sports Hall of Fame: "While (his statistics) alone are impressive, the truest measures of Jess's success are the consistent excellence, integrity, and work ethic he displayed in one of the most difficult jobs in all of sports."
"The toughest (time) I ever spent," Kersey told me in 2001 of his NBA leave. "It's something you grow from or go into a cave and hide from. If you try to hide the truth, you do somebody an injustice."
As reflective as Kersey was then, he was at his best spinning yarns. And heaven knows he had plenty of material.
"Oh, my goodness, and some of them were actually true," joked Henry Morgan, a friend and former softball teammate. "He was very funny and entertaining. … He was also a very caring person. He did a lot of little things for people."
The owner of the Peninsula Pilots baseball team, Morgan and Kersey shared a love of that sport, especially at the grassroots level. Kersey attended many Pilots games in the Coastal Plain League, a summer outlet for college players, and was a regular at the Little League World Series in Williamsport, Pa.
But it was basketball that captured his heart, witness the NBA T-shirt he wore during his final days.
Grinding through seasons into his late 60s, Kersey understood his time on the court was short. But the end was sudden.
In an April 2007 game, Kersey was unable to avoid a collision with Los Angeles Clippers guard Corey Maggette in a transition sequence. Ensuing left-hip replacement sidelined him permanently.
"With me being 5-10 and 160 pounds, and Corey being 6-5 and 225 pounds, I did not win that battle," Kersey said five years later.
Block or charge?
Jess Kersey probably would have whistled himself for the foul
www.dailypress.com/dp-spt-teel-column-jess-kersey-passes-20170422-column.html