NBA Has Clippers’ Number When It Comes to the Lottery

Myth: The NBA lottery was established in 1985 to prevent the league’s worst teams from tanking games down the stretch in order to secure a better draft position.

Honest Truth: The NBA lottery was established to give the Clippers some national TV air time during the playoffs.

Only the face behind the Clipper logo ever changes at these annual meetings of the Secaucus 11. Bill Fitch was there Sunday, looking fairly disgusted, having lost out to General Manager Elgin Baylor on the basis of seniority--or was it a H-O-R-S-E shoot-around, best five out of nine, loser leaves town?

Fitch had the best seat in the house, right there in the front row, as befits the league’s only loser of 65 games last season. Sixty-five defeats, each of them hard-earned and well-deserved. That had to be good for something, right?

If you lose 65 of 82 games--including your first 16, one right after the other--and you still can’t get the top selection in the draft, what’s the use in trying?

Maybe that’s why Fitch couldn’t stop grimacing for the camera. He’s only been chained to this ship for less than a year, but deep down he knew: There was no way on Michael Jordan’s green earth that the final envelope nestled in David Stern’s hands was going to have the Clipper crest inside.

This franchise?

This lifetime?

Generally speaking, the Clippers have been pro basketball’s worst team for 15 years, yet since the birth of the lottery, the Clippers have drafted first only once--in 1988, when the magic Ping-Pong balls steered them in the direction of Danny Manning, and you know the rest. Manning, a true star player, got lonesome, then injured, then disenchanted, then traded to Atlanta for Dominique Wilkins, who stayed in L.A. for about three quarters before high-tailing it to Boston and leaving the Clippers with another wasted first-round pick.

Fitch knew. Stern knew. Bob Costas knew. We all knew. With two envelopes to go, with the field pared to the Clips and Golden State, it had to be the Warriors.

And it was.

And that, in the grand scheme, is fair enough.

On the cover of Golden State’s 1994-95 media guide, cartoon caricatures of Chris Webber, Don Nelson and other Warriors are crammed into an elevator, with Nelson punching an up button that will take the car to the NBA finals. Hopes were that high in the Bay Area last fall, but then the elevator began moving and Webber got off and Nelson got off and the remaining Warriors were left with the shaft. From 50-32 to 26-56, Golden State endured one of the all-time horrific seasons. So give them the consolation prize. It’s this or the Purple Heart.

What would the Clippers do with the No. 1 pick, anyway?

They’d draft the dead guy who gave Ed O’Bannon his knee ligament, that’s what they’d do.

Or they’d draft the fry cook at Bryant (Big Country) Reeves’ favorite McDonald’s.

Or they’d draft Dean Smith. Joe Smith, Dean Smith, all those North Carolina guys coming out early--a front office staff could get easily confused.

Or they’d just trade the pick.

For Danny Ferry.

The NBA lottery, then, is the league’s great equalizer--one way to reasonably ensure that the best college player available is drafted first. And, it spares Stern the embarrassment of having to announce on June 28, “And with the first pick of the 1995 NBA draft, the Los Angeles Clippers select . . . Elgin, it’s time to take your hands off the Ouija board, OK?”

The NBA lottery is also a bit of a hoot, certainly more fun than any Knick-Rocket playoff game. What other league would push its top-ranking executive out there in front of a live television audience and have Costas introduce him as “the league’s answer to Wink Martindale”? Would James Brown wink at the camera and describe Gary Bettman as “hockey’s answer to Bob Eubanks”? And be back in the studio the following week?

Costas’ ensuing play-by-play commentary was hilarious, delivered in the kind of hushed, solemn whisper usually reserved for the 18th hole at Augusta.

Sacramento gets the 13th pick. Costas, barely audible: “That’s just where they would have expected to be. They had only a half-percent chance of getting the No. 1 pick.”

Milwaukee gets No. 11. Costas: “Form holds this far.”

New Jersey is No. 9. Costas: “No surprises yet.”

Minnesota is fifth. Costas, voice climbing: “Golden State has moved up to one of the first two picks.”

Washington is next to go up on the board, it’s now down to the Clippers, the 76ers and the Warriors, the tension in the room is palpable . . . and Costas somberly intones, “We’ll be right back.”

Commercial break! “The NBA interrupts this dramatic draft lottery to indulge in a good, long belly laugh.” When Stern’s face finally returns to the screen, the commissioner appears to be biting his cheeks to keep from bursting into laughter. Wipe those palms, Clipper, Warrior and 76ers fans. In the next 30 seconds, Antonio McDyess could . . . be . . . all . . . yours!

It’s good to see the league keeping its sense of humor with Jordan and Charles Barkley out of the playoffs and a San Antonio-Indiana final now a distinct possibility. Maybe Bettman was taking notes. Next month, the NBAization of the NHL continues, with pro hockey set to make its lottery debut.

The Mighty Ducks could get the first pick in the draft. Or they could get the third. And then, after that, they have to sign the player they pick.

Already, the suspense mounts.