In the spotlight, under a microscope
Naperville Central standout, NBA referee dad see basketball from both sides of the whistle
Drew Crawford smoothly answered the standard postgame questions, making eye contact with four reporters from right to left, past the television camera pointed at his slender face.
Standing in front of his locker, Crawford dissected the final possession of the game with the same sense of calm he used to curl around the screen, catch the inbounds pass and stun Wheaton North with a buzzer-beating jump shot from the left corner.
(Jonathan Miano/Staff Photographer)
(Jonathan Miano/Staff Photographer)
Crawford is the type of kid, Naperville Central coach Pete Kramer would later say, who could sit down and talk to the custodian for half an hour, or anyone else in the gym for that matter.
On this cold January night, the talk revolved around Crawford. Emerging from a timeout, after his players had scattered from the huddle, Wheaton North coach Jim Nazos made sure to check: "Who's got Crawford?"
So it goes for the lanky 6-foot-4-inch junior, and he's cool with that. There's a sense around the Redhawks that if they can just make it to the final possession, everything will be all right. Even when everyone knows where the ball is going, Crawford has emerged as Central's clutch performer, and its most visible target.
Earlier in the season, Neuqua Valley's student section chanted "Average!" while he stood at the free-throw line. And now, less than a year later, cries from the Wheaton North section hurtled down toward the court: "He's carrying the ball!"
At this point, they couldn't possibly know that Crawford will win this game from about 18 feet out, with three blue jerseys running at him in the final seconds. But do they realize that Crawford uniquely understands the stimulus-response that draws a whistle?
STRESS LEVELSDanny Crawford learned a long time ago to remove the NBA tags from his luggage.
Now working his 23rd season as an NBA referee, Danny has heard it all before. Everyone travels and palms the ball. Superstars get all the whistles. And when something goes wrong, expect a makeup call. Those are the conspiracy theories that zip across the basketball landscape like an outlet pass to Steve Nash.
It used to bother him, until he realized that they said the same thing 20 years ago, and they'll be saying the same thing 20 years from now.
Danny, 54, declined to comment on veteran referee Tim Donaghy and the gambling scandal that scarred the NBA last summer. But the more he talks shop, what becomes clear is how much he values his craft.
Sitting behind a desk at his home office, he picked up an external hard drive, a small device wrapped in an orange casing. He explained how he is graded, each play eventually charted from a laptop, including the noncalls. And he outlined his hopes to one day train other officials, to create a formal program that would organize the high school referees who now work game to game as independent contractors.
Danny has become a fixture at the NBA Finals, yet his anxiety peaks sitting in the stands during DuPage Valley Conference games, watching his 17-year-old son, Drew. Each dribble, every jump shot is a stress test.
"I never, ever felt so stressed out," Danny said. "If I felt ... like I feel watching my son play, in a game that I'm refereeing, I would do a terrible job.
"You got to be relaxed as a referee. You got to be relaxed and focused. When I'm watching him play, it's like I'm in another world."
THE CLOSEROnce the ball trickled through the net to stagger Wheaton North 53-52 last month, Drew flexed his arms backward and puffed out his chest in a rare display of emotion.
Claudia Crawford described her son as a serious student, one who methodically completes his school assignments. And that is how he has put the finishing touches on several dramatic victories this season.
The big shot against Wheaton North would be framed alongside the turnaround jumper Drew hit at the buzzer to beat rival Naperville North in December, and his baseline-to-baseline dash that defeated Notre Dame two weeks later.
"It's kind of a - how can I describe it?" Drew said. "The play's almost like a blur, and then what you really remember is ... after you hit the shot, and everyone rushing on the court. The play kind of passes by pretty fast."
The DVC race nearly flashed past the Redhawks after they lost their first two conference games this season. Since then, Central has won eight consecutive DVC games to position itself for a possible title, with Drew averaging roughly 19 points and six rebounds per game.
In a season of wild endings, Central draws its confidence in part from Drew, who was selected to attend a program at the J. Kyle Braid Leadership Foundation last summer in Colorado.
And they follow some of the junior's cues, whether it's New Year's Eve and he invites teammates to his house to play Nintendo Wii and the old-school "NBA Jam" arcade game. Or the final seconds of a critical conference game.
"We know how to act in the situations," Central senior swingman Harrison Daniels said. "You can't play tight, you can't play scared."
Daniels has noticed how the referees recognize Drew during the captains' meetings before tip-off, and how everyone seems to be saying "hi" to the laid-back junior in Central's cramped hallways between classes. Drew is a magnet, inside or outside the gym.
His father's job obviously pulled him to the game, but his bloodlines run deep in basketball. Claudia pointed out that Drew gets his height from her side of the family, and that her 6-5 brother played at DePaul. Still, it's the Crawford name listed in the scouting reports, the programs and the newspapers.
"Everyone knows who he is," Central senior guard Mike Schmitz said. "Everyone's putting their best defender on him and he's still coming out averaging 19 points a game or whatever."
Ideally, Drew would play on the wing, running the floor, cutting off screens, attacking gaps with the dribble. But Central needs Drew to do so much more - jump center, block shots, break the press and initiate the offense as point guard.
"This year," Schmitz said, "what he's doing is unbelievable."
TALKIN' SHOPWhy is my kid playing out of position? How come he isn't getting more shots? What is this coach doing?
From a parent, these are the questions that can undermine a program.
But Danny Crawford prides himself on his ability to read people and situations, whether it's Isiah Thomas, his son - who should be left alone after a tough loss - or the Central coach. It's an essential skill for someone who makes his living tenths of a second at a time.
So if Danny finds a missing detail in Drew's game, or notices that Central is spaced too tightly on a sideline out-of-bounds play, he can pass along information to Kramer.
"I don't concern myself as much with how they are going to react to what I say," Danny said. "I get a feel for the conversation and I will just say things that I think are appropriate. I won't overstep my bounds. I won't get deep into Kramer's job.
"It's just an observation. I'm talkin' shop."
Kramer, for his part, appreciates the insight: "Personally, for me, Drew has two coaches."
And, for a time, it appeared as if Danny would follow Kramer's career path. The idea that Danny would become a referee was laughable. He used to work officials all the time as a scrappy, lockdown defender. This was the kind of guy who once drew a technical foul at a Northeastern Illinois alumni game ... from his brother Gene, now a Big 10 official.
Danny latched on as an assistant coach at Northeastern Illinois once his playing career there ended. After graduating in 1976, Danny juggled several jobs, substitute teaching on the West Side of Chicago, where he grew up, coaching at night and refereeing high school basketball on the side.
Danny first started officiating as a student-athlete, working intramural games to earn a little extra cash. Coaching, however, began to consume too much of his time. And Danny never really got used to how coaches take their work home with them, how losses linger long after the final buzzer. He never liked that feeling.
So Danny used his connections through his brother, and things started happening. Danny used high-profile games in the Chicago Public League as a springboard, and got noticed officiating the city championship. He was offered an assignment to referee the junior college nationals in Hutchinson, Kan., and there a supervisor from the Missouri Valley Conference asked if he'd like to work those games.
Right place at the right time.
Darrell Garretson, then the supervisor of NBA officials, saw potential in Danny at a camp in Chicago and invited him to train in California during the summer. During that time, Danny continued to substitute teach, and worked as a record distributor for MCA, making sure stores were stocked with product and taking clients to concerts - Tom Petty, The Oak Ridge Boys, whatever. It was fun, and the hours were flexible, freeing Danny to referee games.
And, as the 1985-86 season approached, Danny was offered a job in a league ready to explode with a second-year player named Michael Jordan.
THE LEAGUEIn many ways, Danny Crawford's job is a lot like yours, except with more furry mascots. Granted, they sell $5.25 nachos at his office, and shoot T-shirts out of toy guns during breaks. But Danny gets stuck at his computer. He has reports to file, deadlines to meet and employees to manage. He works late, disappears on long business trips and wonders when he'll be able to retire.
That is the most difficult part, cycling through the blur of airports and hotel rooms while Claudia stays at home with Drew and Lia, a forward on the Central girls sophomore basketball team.
Danny was on the road during that Wheaton North game, and it almost certainly won't be the last conflict of interest. Danny and Drew try to talk before and after games, and the father can watch his son later on DVD, but it's not the same.
"When we win, I usually call him right away," Drew said. "When we lose, sometimes I call him pretty late or either don't call him at all, so he gets mad at me."
The son finds his father's presence reassuring - an extra set of eyes to break down his game, and a familiar voice to offer direction.
"It's always good to hear him in the stands," Drew said.
This then is a trade-off between two passions, a calculation Danny said he takes one season at a time.
One day, he said, he will give it up and head in the opposite direction, away from the NBA, though he'll still referee high school or small college basketball, because it's so much fun.
"My job is a wonderful job," Danny said. "The actual work is flat-out the best."
BALANCING ACTAfter the national anthem last Sunday, Danny clapped his hands, stretched his back and removed his warm-up jacket as the lights dimmed on the United Center. The fastest show in basketball was in town, and Danny expected an afternoon of wind sprints with the Phoenix Suns in front of a sell-out crowd of 22,245.
Perhaps dragging at the end of a four-game road trip, the Suns didn't play with their usual velocity, and Danny didn't receive the workout he had hoped for. Phoenix registered only 12 fast-break points, and scored 22 below its average in an 88-77 victory against the fading Bulls. The weary Suns survived the noon tip-off and a fraction of the 82-game grind.
Afterward Drew waited in a crowded runway outside the locker rooms with some friends and neighbors. Danny eventually emerged in a sharp gray suit and a light blue tie, and soon helped flag down Ben Wallace for a young fan looking for an autograph.
"Ben," Danny said, "could ya take care of the little fella?"
Drew stopped being starstruck a long time ago. Most NBA players are good guys, he said, and "not too many of them shrug you off."
Besides, this is their life together: Drew watching Jordan's Bulls, or LeBron James' Cavaliers, and Danny hoping to work his schedule around Drew's Redhawks.
The son can tag along when the father works summer league games in Chicago. And the father looks forward to his son's AAU tournaments.
"He's always in the gym," Drew said, "and I was always with him."
Moments later, Grant Hill walked by and tapped Danny on the back. For the most part, Drew hung out on the perimeter of the scene. Danny, clutching a small rolling suitcase, looked forward to a few more days with his wife and two kids.
A man with millions of frequent flyer miles and Marriott points could travel anywhere in the world, but he just wanted to go home. Because who knows when Drew will beat the clock and hit another game-winner?
