Before 1992, Olympic basketball was strictly amateurs only. The USA would send out a team of college kids and usually win. But by 1992 that was no longer the case, NBA players were eligible to take part. Thus birthed The Dream Team, usually considered the greatest collection of basketball talent ever assembled. They rolled through the Olympics in Barcelona winning games by unheralded margins.
Commonly brought up is that David Stern wanted to include NBA players to “grow the game”, a term he loved so much. Envisioning the NBA flooding the European and Asian markets with apparel. This could not be further from the truth, and to his credit, Stern never claimed otherwise.
The commissioner saw the hypocrisy behind the rules. Detlef Schrempf earned $500,000 a year playing for the Milwaukee Bucks and was barred from playing on the German national team. Oscar Schmidt made one million a year playing professionally in Italy and was perfectly eligible to represent his home country of Brazil. Everyone saw the hypocrisy, but Stern could not imagine adding the Olympics to a full plate of other issues he had to work on. He believed global play would provide more burdens than it would benefits. In fact, when the vote passed to let professionals take part in the olympics, Stern said,
[I] “We knew it was going to pass, but we were absolutely not enthusiastic about it. It was sort of like, ‘Okay what do we do now?’ ”.
No, the man that was indirectly responsible for the creation of the Dream Team, and all US Olympic teams that came after it was a Serb named Boris Stankovic.
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Stankovic was born in the Balkan area of Yugoslavia, an area which was constantly at war. When he was just 19, Boris and his father were imprisoned by an invading Russian army. After two excruciating months, Stankovic was released, but his father was executed by firing squad and buried in a common grave. Even today Stankovic does not know where his father rests.
Stankovic was blacklisted from his preferred profession, a medical doctor, so he was forced to veterinary school to stay within the field of medicare. He earned his degree in veterinary medicine in 1945 from the University of Belgrade. Stankovic got a job as a meat inspector, a common job for vets in Yugoslavia because as he puts it, “veterinarians looked after the meat and cheese because it had to do with animals, no?”. His favorite meat to inspect, however, was the soft leather of a basketball.
A fundamentally sound low post player, Stankovic played 37 games for the Yugoslavian national team. One of his proudest moments was playing in the first ever FIBA (organization that runs international basketball) event. The world championship in Argentina in 1950. Yugoslavia finished in ninth, out of nine teams. His biggest regret is never playing in the olympics as a player. While Stankovic was never the most talented player, he had an adept understanding of the game and overall intelligence, allowing him to quickly climb the ladder as a coach and executive. By his 30th birthday Boris was already the most important non-player in Yugoslavian basketball and was active in FIBA.
In 1966 Oransoda Cantu, a team in the Italian Professional Basketball League, asked Stankovic to be their coach, so Boris left his homeland. Following the money to Italy, which was the richest league.
As an outsider, many Italians disliked Stankovic. But like always winning cures as all as he quickly became loved leading Oransoda Cantu to a championship in 1968. This is when R. William Jones, the commissioner of FIBA, came calling.
“𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗯𝗮𝘀𝗸𝗲𝘁𝗯𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗯𝗮𝘀𝗸𝗲𝘁𝗯𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗨𝗻𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀”
Those words were uttered to Stankovic by William Jones, Boris was sent to the United States on the behalf of FIBA. FIBA governed amateur basketball in all corners of the world besides the US, Stankovic was sent to study the American game, professional and amateur.
So Stankovic landed in the epicenter of American basketball, Billings, Montana.
In reality, Billings was the only place Stankovic could stay. He could not speak English, nor did he know the customs. Billings was the only place he found free housing with a Yugoslavian family. Despite all this, Stankovic instantaneously fell in love with the college game as well as the bright lights of the NBA game. His favorite player was UCLA’s red-headed phenom Bill Walton.
Stankovic was granted a papal audience with legendary UCLA coach John Wooden, where it was easy to communicate because they simply talked basketball. But mostly he was on his own observing and comparing the sport, Boris became mesmerized by the American game.
[i] “It just seemed to be a different game,’’ says Stankovic, smiling at the memory. “Faster but also fundamentally sound. You could watch a guy like Bill Walton for one minute and you could see that his level of play was so much higher than anyone we had in Europe”. Stankovic in Dream Team by Jack McCallum.
Professional players were barred from participating in FIBA events (including the Olympics), this did not stop pros in Europe as they were usually listed as “soldiers” or “policemen”. So it was essentially a ban on NBA players.
Despite the striking hypocrisy of the rule, there was no push to get it removed by either side.
The supremacy of even American collegians was clear, as the USA had won all but two gold medals from 1948 to 1984. In 1972 they fell to the Soviets on possibly the most controversial moment in basketball history. In 1980, the USA boycotted the olympics and Yugoslavia came on top. Outside of extenuating circumstances, the US safely sat atop the international throne.
Along with the former, the olympics and pro players were seen as two separate universes by the public. The NBA was for pro’s, and the Olympics was for college kids. That is the way it always was and the way it always will be.
As an outsider, Stankovic did not see it that way. He wanted to help the game of basketball grow, to become stronger. While Boris was watching the stars of the 70s, John Havlicek, Walt Frazier, Pete Maravich—he realized the fact that they would never play in the olympics. It irritated him; the separation became impossible for him to tolerate. So he returned to Munich (where FIBA was headquartered) with one goal in mind, eliminate the rule barring professionals from FIBA play.
When Stankovic came back to Munich and proposed the idea, it was instantly dismissed. The international Olympic Committee (IOC) where Avery Brundage held power, held on to the fleeting (at least outside of college) concept that was shamateurism. Nobody knows exactly what William Jones’ opinion on the matter was, but he plainly told Stankovic “don’t bother”, “don’t go there”, and for the next 15 years nobody went there.
Stankovic quickly climbed the ladder that was the FIBA hierarchy, supplanting Jones, and became FIBA’s secretary general in 1976, a position he would hold until 2002. He also became a member of the Yugoslav Olympic Committee, the international Olympic committee, and a part of the board of trustees of the basketball hall of fame. The former inspector of meat quickly rose through the ranks as one of the most powerful basketball men worldwide, but it was not until the mid-1980s that he started to make progress towards his ultimate goal.
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮, “𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱”
On October 23rd in 1985, Stankovic met with David Stern and deputy commissioner Russ Granik in New York and half a dozen other important figures. Boris practically beams when he recalls the memory. The two got along well despite the perceived notions about the professional side of basketball from many people that run amateur basketball.
Both men were attracted to power, like bees are to honey. When the two first met, people described it as a meeting of minds. After a few introductory meetings, Stankovic cut to the chase resulting in the previously mentioned meeting. The people in the room could tell something historic was about to happen.
Stankovic reiterated his point that professionals should be allowed in the olympics. He believed that they could get NBA players for the first time in the FIBA World Championship in 1990, which was set to take place in Argentina. While that idea was ultimately too ambitious, the first ever McDonalds open, however, came out of this meeting.
The McDonalds Open, as proposed by Stankovic, was a tournament featuring Europe’s best club team, the world’s best national team, the best US college team, and a pro team of the NBA’s choice. Despite including a college team being impossible, Stern agreed.
“We’ll host it”, Said Stern.
While this was just the NBA sticking a tentative toe into the deep pool that was international basketball, it was a smashing success. Reporters from Spain, Italy, France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Japan, Hungry, Canada, Israel and the Soviet Union covered the tourney in Milwaukee, and viewers in China, the Soviet Union and 34 other countries outside the U.S. could view it.
This was just the beginning for Stankovic, who despite being thwarted in a vote to allow pro’s in a 1986 vote, was determined to succeed. He finally broke through in 1989, when a specially conceived congress in Munich voted in favor of 56-13 to allow NBA players in the olympics.
When the news broke, there was skepticism that NBA players would want to take part in the olympics. College basketball commentator Billy Packer was among them, believing that NBA owners would not let their players play, and selfish players would not want to give up their summer. While these criticisms are unfair, a survey of 295 players issued in 1989 said only 58% of players would play if given the opportunity. Michael Jordan was among those who said he would not want to participate. On the flip-side, stars such as Magic Johnson and Karl Malone announced they would love to play in an Olympic event. With Karl Malone saying he would ‘’go in a heartbeat and pay my own ticket”.
But while the NBA was wrestling with how to incorporate their players into international events, the amateur side of US basketball was going through a tumultuous time.
When it comes to amateur basketball, Dave Gavitt has done it all. He was a highly respected coach and athletic director at Providence University. He was one of the key players in building the Big East Conference, possibly the most influential basketball conference of all-time. Most impressively, he was an influential piece of turning March Madness into the cash cow that it is today. Soon, he would be off as the CEO for the Boston Celtics. But at the moment he was the president for ABAUSA, the body that governed US Amateur basketball. He would be the official voter for the United States in the Munich vote. Gavitt was set to vote no, even though he knew it would be in vain. Dave had already paid a visit to the NBA offices telling Stern, “Look, we’re going to vote no, but it’s going to pass. You better get ready to decide how you want to handle this.”
Stern wanted to buy the team, but Gavitt quickly shut down that idea, telling him the team was not for sale. Instead, Gavitt gave a counter offer, telling Stern the NBA should become part of ABAUSA, promising him that the majority of Olympic representation would come from the NBA. Stern agreed, and Dave’s insistence likely saved the future of ABASUSA. Others may have feared that incorporating the NBA would be the coming of a monolithic age of international basketball. All Gavitt saw was an advantage.
The amateur association, for all intents and purposes, was broke. They were funded by the U.S Olympic Committee (USOC), and a weak contract from the declining Converse brand worth about 300K. Gavitt suggested that if NBA Properties could step in and do the marketing, everyone would benefit. Stern said okay.
Gavitt was somebody who could see the entire picture. He believed that NBA players should be allowed into the olympics, but he had to curb his enthusiasm when talking with other ABA execs. After all, he was speaking with a group that was observing its own extinction.
[i] “For me it was kind of simple,” Gavitt told Jack McCallum. “I felt that people in our country should have the same rights to represent their country as everyone else. I never bothered to lobby the college community with that opinion because they were squarely against it. They were against pros playing in the Olympics. Period.”
Directly after voting in Munich, Gavitt had dinner with Bill Wall and Tom McGrath. The executive and assistant executive of ABAUSA. Wall had run the organization since the mid-1970s. In 1986 at the FIBA congress when Stankovic first brought up open competition, but was soundly defeated, Wall spoke passionately out against allowing pros. His opinion remained unchanged. Yet Wall could see his time was up and resented it with every bone in his body. Bill aligned himself with politician George Killian, who would later become a delegate to the International Olympic Committee. Gavitt and Killian never got along, thus Wall and Gavitt never got along.
But business had to be done at this dinner. Wall, McGraith, and Gavitt had to decide how to integrate NBA players into the Olympic selection process. Later both Wall and McGraith would say that the NBA treated ABAUSA well, and helped make integration seamless. But make no mistake, this was mostly in part to avoid pissing off David Stern. Which was a terrible idea then, and still a terrible idea now (even though he’s dead).
The amateur organization as a whole was angry and confused. They believed they should have been the one to hold the McDonalds open. Instead, it turned into a Stern-Stankovic operation. As for integrated international play with NBA players? They were as lost as Doc Rivers in the playoffs.
[i] “You have to understand how much change this was for the college guys, and I was one of them,” said C. M. Newton, who, like Granik and Gavitt, was an important person in keeping the peace between the college types and the pro types. “Charter fights and exclusive hotels and the idea that we were going to train in Monte Carlo? These were things that David [Stern] and Russ [Granik] insisted on, and they were foreign to us.”
Nobody could be sure to the extent NBA participation would be. But the three believed that only six players would be on the 1992 Olympic Team, and none of them would be star players. While discussions for who the coach would be were still too far off, all the men presented believed it would inevitably be Duke’s Mike Krzyzewski. Coach K was coming off of three final four appearances in four years.
When the men returned to ABAUSA headquarters in Colorado Springs, matters such as players and coaches had to take a backseat for more problematic issues.
For starters, the name had to be changed as the program was no longer an amateur organization. A simple fix, as they just changed the name to American Basketball Association, allowing them to keep the acronym. That name is still in use today. Unfortunately, other issues would not be so easy to fix. Almost from the first meeting with Stern, Bill Wall could tell he was gone.
The vision and the level of business acumen, the sophistication the NBA had about growing the game, it was far, far different from the way USA Basketball had done it. When the two groups met anyone with ears and eyes could tell the NBA was completely in charge from the beginning. Wall was hard-headed and tough, but he was also a realist. He knew he had to leave, or he would be forced to.
[i] “How should I say this?” Wall says today from his home in the California desert. “I didn’t like some of the stuff I saw coming, and they wanted to get rid of somebody who was going to say no. And it was probably my time.”
It was time for the NBA to come in and start throwing their money around USA Basketball, and that’s how it continues until this day. Despite a rocky start, the NBA got star players, all the star players in fact to participate in the 1992 Olympics at Barcelona. The famed Dream Team, which paved the way for huge international expression for the NBA. The Dream Team, and all Olympic teams that came after that resulted from Stankovic pushing for something others thought should not be pushed for. He completely shattered the landscape of amateur and international basketball. Can you imagine if the rule barring pros from the olympics rule held up?
We probably would have seen less international players come over to the NBA because they wanted to represent their countries. With the rapid growth that was occurring in basketball in other countries (1988, olympics are a prime example). We likely would have seen the USA lose more and more in international play. The NBA would likely not be as close to the international product as it is today. But none of that happened, thanks to Boris Stankovic.
Cover Image: By Georgios Pazios (Alaniaris) – Έργο αυτού που το ανεβάζει (own work), Attribution, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4419487
On The Hardwood 