It was  the late Spring of 1987, the best of times.  I was a mere 25 years of age  l had everything a man could wish for wearing my shoes.  I had my health,  I was in Paris, and there was plenty of money – in my mind, during that period of life – in US bank accounts.  I was close to obtaining a B.A. degree from the University of Utah.   Promises were being kept in the educational area, it would be completed soon. 

Believe me when I tell you this, I was one hell of a damn good basketball player in 1987, much better than just a few years before when I played college basketball.  At least, I was one of the top 400 – 500 players in the entire world.  Perhaps the top 220-250, that would be my guess.  I might have been able to make good in a second try out in the NBA,  but that would have been risky and I was in a good place playing hoops living in Europe.   

It did not make financial sense for me to try another second attempt to play in the NBA.  The basketball season started in July in Europe, by the end of August you were deep into weekend long pre-season multiple daily game tournaments.   By the end of August, game shape was only a short distance away. It was  amazing playing six teams in four days at these tournaments held in some historical European city, like, say, for example, Luxembourg.  Now that was my idea of fun ‘get your butt into shape’ basketball.  Playing in some NBA tryout camp in August, and then getting cut, you were left in between a rock and a hard place with no money, and no team in Europe.  You would be stuck playing in the CBA, a dreadful place was that Continental’ Basketball League, which was like purgatory with no water, food or money.  I was in a much better place in Europe and my game was improving monthly.

I knew that I never would be able to break into an NBA starting five.  I wasn’t that delusional, at least not back in that time in life.  Even if I beat the odds, got real lucky and made it past the cuts, my life was better than sitting on an NBA bench next to some unknown assistant coach and not playing in games. My entire life was about playing in games, not sitting watching games being played by other players.  Dean Smith knew that about me when I was 17 years old. 

Coach Smith told me precisely that during a telephone call while giving me and my high school coach  – who Eddie and Dean very much liked as a friend, and respected – advice on which college to attend.  

Coach Smith said,  I  had a place at UNC but should consider playing time possibilities in my selection choice.  Which actually meant, he did not think I could play the 3 spot in college. I should be a 4 spot guy, and could play the five, but not the 3 spot.  After watching Carolina in Assembly Hall in December,  Coach Smith had my High School coach put me at point guard for two games to make his final determination.  They taped the point guard experiment and Eddie Fogler came up to see one of the games.  I wasn’t surprised by the outcome.  Coach Smith was on top of things and in my court.  and I could come and sit next to him and Eddie at UNC during the games and get my 5 minute substitution time behind Sam Perkins and James Worthy.  But he did not need an unhappy player pretending that playing only in the  blue white squad scrimmage was enjoyable basketball. 

I wanted to play in a final four.  I could not sit on the bench for three or four years and remain with my sanity.  Doing that would be like quitting the game entirely in my book.   

[More on this recruiting and my college options later.  Suffice to say, it was a fiasco of massive adventures.  Topics include:  Bobby Knight, Johnny Orr, Lee Rose, Bill Frieder, Jerry Pimm, The Tipuka Family, Rick Majerus and others …]

Dean knew all the teams I was considering for college, and he knew all the players on all those college teams.  Coach had a mind of massive ability.   He knew my entire situation.  He approved of my decision to attend Utah, by a speaker  phone during a group conference phone call. I could play in games at Utah and could make it onto the very important NCAA 32 team  team tournament dance invite list.  Back in those days, there were 32 teams, not the current 64 teams, in the NCAA tournament.  This played a big part of my college selection. I wanted to play in the dance. I almost made Coach Smith regret that advice,  a year later, when UNC beat us by only 5 points on our court in the NCAA tournament in Salt Lake City.  He praised my Freshman year NCAA performance to the media after that game.  He knew my heart was broken by the loss and my dream of a final four was taken by his team.  But that was his wonderful way of coaching, always thinking about people … … … .  In all circumstances doing the right thing  was always a key factor in Dean’s decisions.   Completely aware and 10 steps ahead of everybody else. 

During that call in my Senior year in high school, Coach Smith said to me,  glad you are going to be a Runin’ Ute, I think you’ll do well there.  This before I had actually made that decision final, and he added, see you in June, as was usual for the past 5 years, at basketball camp.  But this time while attending the three week long Dean Smith Basketball School, I was going to be paid money to go to camp as a coach.  Coach Smith  always looked out for his ‘campers’.  He was going to pay me to work camp even if I wasn’t a Tarheel.  He paid me for 6 more years. 

I simply wasn’t a bench sitter.  It was not my idea of good basketball.  I had to play.  Financially it just made dollars and sense to stay in Europe.

Making $98,400  a year salary in the NBA in 1987 was just financially stupid for me.  That was the NBA minimum salary in 1987, give or take a little.  I know for a fact that in 1980 the NBA minimum salary was $72,500.0.  I know it increased a few grand in the next few years, but it was not anything close to what it is today.  I hear 1 million dollars being tossed around as the 2026 minimum salary. 

 I made a little less cash in Europe than the minimum at that time in 1987, but I kept all my money and I  banked more money than some of my college teammates playing in the NBA at that time. 

All my living, eating, local  transportation, plane tickets and travel were paid for by the teams,  above and beyond my salary.  It was always tax beneficial for the team owners to pay expenses, they could easily write off basketball team expenses.  I found out personally from guys that had played an entire season with a single NBA team,  that I had more money in the bank at the end of the year than they had after the cost was tallied up of playing in the NBA. 

In the USA, the government took 33% of your NBA contract money, right off the top, before you could touch it.  Bingo, your 95k just went to 65k, maybe you are at 69k.   That was the amount where I started calculating  my value as a basketball player in Europe by the third year.  I was worth $10,000.00 (10k) per month for 7 months.  That was my about standard pay for experienced players in Europe.  There were a few dual nationality guys in Italy, Spain and Greece making much more. Not many.  

Rules required a team limit of two Americans per team.  If you were American, good at playing the game, and you could carry a dual passport with dual nationality, you did not qualify as a foreign player.  Your value increased in that scenario.  Israel was full of American basketball players marrying New York USA citizenship seeking Israeli girls.  Every team in Israel had a few arranged married Americans.  I wouldn’t do that when I was offered.  So, I played under the limit rules.

In my rookie year, just happy to be there and in shock that I was going to make money playing basketball,  I was paid less than my value.  My rookie season I “signed “a $48,000.00 contract to play seven months in Israel, a few bonus deals were added on, all my living expenses were paid, plus extra plane tickets for a friend, and I was paid a  $12,000 cash on the table for signing the contract.   I was to be paid half of the 48 thousand money within 30 days, the remainder over the rest of the season.  But I never signed a contract.  That is a unbelievable story.  It’s called , ‘Avi, my Jewish self appointed sports agent.’  He appointed himself as my agent the moment the plane landed, immediately in the airport lobby.   I thought at first it was a joke.  I was wrong he would become my  agent. 

Avi was like a character out of a novel.  Unbelievable personality, a lovable guy who was crazy about basketball since childhood.  He sat every morning in the Tel Aviv hotel overlooking the Ocean reading every newspaper printed and made phone calls on a land line (no mobile phones, yet).  He knew everything about basketball in Israel the moment it happened.  Orange juice with Avi in the Hilton always produced positive results.  I never knew him at all before that day in the airport.  He really was heaven sent.  I liked him.  Within a month of entering Israel, I had more than half my money in a U.S.A. bank account.    I never sign a piece of paper contract with anyone.  Avi tried to explain, in Israel the paper contract means nothing, but with Avi you have something much more than a contract.  He was absolutely right.  We settled with team representatives in the hotel lobby with a handshake five days after I arrived in Israel.   In three years,  I got every single penny Avi ever promised to get me in agreements with three different teams.     He did dozens of other great things for me.  He was special.  The second year I was paid a $65,000.00 contract and $20,000  bonus, which I always said was not a signing bonus, it was an  ‘Avi takes you off the market bonus’.  In my third year,  I made about the same money, but Avi arranged for my transfer fee, which could be more than your salary contract.  If a League or team wanted to not release your international players license, they could delay it for months. That would result in big problems for a player.     I made $69,000.00 in Germany and had my Avi 10k bonus. I signed an actual contract paper in Germany.  No more Avi in Germany.  I couldn’t spend $1,000.00 a month in Europe if I had been trying to give it away.    Everything was paid for by the club.  I went to language school in the mornings, had team practice in the afternoons and coached at night.  I always coached one of the clubs boys or girls team. 

Lots of players in Europe and South America never got paid what was promised to them by the clubs, and they had financial problems.  I had Avi, I got all my money.   Avi used a simple contract method, he determined your total market value, get half now, half during the season.  That is  how you secure the cash at that time in Europe.  It made replacing you costly for a team, and money in the bank was a positive thing for European players at that time.  More on this topic later.  Many stories of how players were not getting paid in foreign countries to play basketball were frequently told, and most all factual, usually hilariously stupid.   

But in the NBA, you need a city area temporary apartment,  that costs $1,500.00 per month, more if you had a wife and a child.   Plus moving expenses when they dumped you on your butt and replaced you with another guy who they thought could sit on the bench better than you could sit on the bench.  Off they would ship you out in a second, or just release you completely.  That would cost you five thousand dollars to set up with another distant team.  Ask Del Curry about that,  – he comes up in chapter two” It’s In the Blood’, next in this digital presentation, as the blood father of Chewy – he was  a guy that mastered the NBA bounce you from team to team for many years.   Del knows all  the scoop about the 1980’s NBA money situations.   Yes, I call him Chewy.  Stephan is Chewy, you know, the mouth guard thing, chomp chomp, it’s his thing, the more tense the game gets, the more Chewy chews, it’s hilarious  to watch.  And the 1988 NBA financial butt kicker was the 41 road games schedule, With your out on the pocket  road expenses, night time entertainment, and airport hot dogs, the true value of your salary was decreased 41 times every year.  That could run into the $10,000 range area, every year, of course,  depending on your lifestyle, it could be much higher. 

 I paid no tax on my salary.  President Regan passed a law just for me, I could legally bring $60,000.00  (60k) back into the good old USA tax free, every year.  So, he had my vote, reluctantly. 

I couldn’t even pay for a beer in Europe at any time during the season, home or away games.   Nothing was without someone picking up the tab.   Much more social,  a very enjoyable game and  life relaxed atmosphere, socializing with other club members, barbecues,  wine fest in the Fall.  A very important fact was that we only played about 45 – 55 games in a year, compared to 85-100 in the NBA.

Life was good for me, I appreciated that fact.  I was taught, by coaches and parents, don’t let your ego try to fix something that is not broken.  I wasn’t leaving Europe.  So I stayed in Europe for the summer of 1987 and I was in the queen city of France.

In the Spring of 1987, I  was in Paris, negotiating between contracts and clubs, on the phone with Avi.  He would tell me everyday that he wanted me to return to Israel.. He even had four different women meet me for a possible arranged marriage that would increase my value and allow me to play without being under the foreign player limit.  But in the end, I would not marry someone for that purpose.  He always help me do what I wanted and he helped complete my transfer to Germany.  He had offers back in Israel and from Greece.   I was visiting for a few weeks with friends, staying in a high class multi-floor villa with many brilliant European young adults I had befriended in Israel, all with bright futures, some with great artistic and acting abilities. 

I had only previously discovered that you get better at playing basketball after college, and your best is somewhere in your mid to upper twenties.   I was approaching that point.  It is tough to get to that point of playing basketball and even more difficult to maintain that skill level.  Health and luck play a big part in it, and nobody beats father time, even if some are able to abuse him for a few more years, father time always wins.  But that wasn’t my concern,  I was in prime shape and top skill level at that time,  the whole part and pieces were working  well.  

I never dreamed I would play high level competitive professional basketball in Europe.  And come to  find out, it was better than what I might have dreamt.  I had loved playing basketball since I was a child.  At 24 years of age, it had become a part of my everyday ‘being’.  I had lived that way for six years.  There were many difficulties but the good far outweighed the bad.

 I had always thought competitive basketball was over for me after four years in college.  My dreams were all about the NCAA final four.   I got close twice on that road, more later … .. .. .  But there I was,  after two years in Europe vying for a third with multiple offers on the table.  I had changed how I played basketball and had  very good ‘game skills’. 

Early in my time in  Europe, I had discovered a new selfish, but financially rewarding , concept.  An inside secret to maintaining a career in the game of professional Euro basketball.  Be selfish and score points.    My magic had always been in making an entire team work like a clock.  I was a consummate team player.   I was excellent on defense.  I spent years guarding top NBA players at practice college, and  later I list the guys I guarded.  You can’t stop good players, but I could slow you down.  More on that later too … … .   In college I led the nation for a few weeks in field goal percentage.  But it wasn’t until pro ball that I learned to really score points.     

Quickly I learned these teams were paying me to score,  and I learned how to score.  Only a month previously to this time in Paris, France,  I had 44 points on Doron,  and I pounded him to the ground on defensive side.  He didn’t outscore me in any of the four games we played.  I also outscored Nikos Galis in a game.   Niko, the great Greek Hog Ball shooter never passed the ball.  I still maintained my inbred Indiana team ball skills, but I made the most of opportunities to score.  I learned to do that at a higher rate and at a good field goal percentage.

[  Doron Jamchy (born July 1, 1961) is a legendary Israeli former professional basketball player, recognized as one of the country’s greatest scorers. A 6’6″ (1.98m) shooting guard/swingman, he holds the all-time Israeli Basketball Premier League record with 9,611 points and starred for Maccabi Tel Aviv, winning 11 championships.]

Playing well against Doron had teams offering more money to stay in Israel.  I had other thoughts  and an opportunity to complete that degree.   It was still Spring time off season and I had a few weeks to decide my next move.

So, there I was in Paris during the beautiful May weather, playing  basketball in many of the oldest gymnasiums in the world.

I remember going down to this basement of this old gym  on rue de Trevise,  Later I learned it was the oldest gymnasium in the world and that the start of basketball in 1893 was in that gym.   I wasn’t aware that I was in that famous gym in Paris as I ran up down the court,  lathering sweat, doing some solo shooting drills. 

It was the best of times.

I had just finished my second year of a playing season with a team in Israel.  Horrendous team year, everybody got hurt, one teammate had a heart attack on the floor, two teammates broke bones.  Nevertheless, it was my best individual offensive performance of my life.  

The team in Israel was majority financed by Kibbutz Gan-Shumuel.   They had our practice gym, a heated pool, prepared dinners, laundry service,  and all the avocados and oranges you could eat.  But they had something even more appealing.  There were dozens of college age females staying for months at a time in Kibbutzim.   It didn’t take me long to give up my lonely apartment near the beach for a small cozy room at the Kibbutz. 

I made good friends with tons of people of different nationalities .  I had my own cheering section at the games, most of whom never saw a basketball game in their life. 

But my games were not the best sports  highlight.  Monday night football on tape delay  Tuesday nights were crazy events you can’t imagine.  Everyone would all gather in my apartment – because I had the only TV – for a night of partying, music, avocado dip and chips, Israeli beer, and good old American football.  There was nothing more fun than a bunch of sports starved fanatic Europeans screaming at the TV about the violent on field collisions and rough plays, while trying to get answers all their questions about the rules and regulations.  

I was never lonely in Israel after my move to the communist kibbutz. My entire mental and physical health had risen dramatically. 

With a daily diet of fish and chicken tossed in with an endless supply of everything that can possibly grow from dirt, add that to my natural maturation as a basketball player, morning lapse in an Olympic size heated pool, afternoon work-outs on the court and weights down the street from home, free cooked meals, and laundry service, then you might understand that I had an environment made to improve my basketball skills fast.  I was learning to make buckets.  Now you might understand and believe me when I tell you, I was damn  good at playing basketball during my first time in Paris.   Good at playing basketball and winning games, good at scoring points, and much better than when I was in college.

My time in Israel is when and where Aviva and I became  friends.  She did my laundry and baked me cakes.  I sat with great respect and attention many afternoons listening to here stories of surviving the Auschwitz Concentration Camp and the Nazi nuts of the war.  She would bring tears to my eyes at times.  But she would make me laugh as well.  She said humor was a key to surviving the camps.  Something I never forgot.  The day she told me how she survived years in the camp with her high school sweetheart, fought there way to Israel after 1945, then, only to  hold him in her arms on Haifa’s Dado Beach as he died of a heart attack minutes after they had made it to the shores of the  ‘promised land’ Israel.  She had me in tears for hours.  Experiences like that seldom come without living beyond your borders.

But my best friend of many was  Jean-Carlo, a very  gregarious , hard working, want to learn it all fast,  curious person.  He spoke many languages and made a stranger a friend faster than anybody I have ever known.  A rich French kid,  that wasn’t spoiled.  His mother kept marrying multi-high society millionaires.  Carlos  went off the into the deep water of the party too much pier.  So they sent him to Israel, with no money and no income.  He was sent to Israel to get straight.  Well, he got straight and that worked while we lived in Israel. I was blessed to have as a friend for decades.   A bunch of us from the Kibbutz had migrated to Paris and were staying rent free in one of Carlos’ step fathers latest apartment home complex buildings,  we all had our own floors, if we desired. but everybody spent all the time in the kitchen, dinner room or living room. Nacho had an art gallery in one of the top floors .  People would come and go quite often but the band was reunited in Paris, and I was spending my afternoons playing in all the different clubs in Paris.

After about three weeks, it was time to get back to serious training , and Paris with these lovely people just wasn’t the place for me to complete that phase.  I had signed a contract with a team in Frankfurt Germany, so off I went to improve my German.    I was sad to be leaving Paris

I returned many times to Paris over the next years. One such notable time was when the Chicago Bulls came to Paris.  They played a French teams in 1997.  Below are some details and video from the game.  It was a historic French basketball changing event.