It’s midnight. I’m tired. Heck of a last 48 hours. Time to go home and let all this sink in. Or try to catch up wtih Matt Bonner for a drink. I’ll be back at this again next week. Or I won’t. I guess we’ll see.
Stern has left the building. Silver is going strong talking to reporters. As I tweeted earlier, there’s something funny to me about Adam Silver. I just can’t put my finger on what that is. But the guy is a machine.
Stern and Silver press conference over. They’ve made an offer to the union. Now they”ll wait until next week for a response. If the union rejects, they’ll revert to the 47% offer Stern spoke about last weekend. If the union agrees, a 72-game season will begin on December 15. ALL BETS ARE OFF!
Backdrop has been changed from design of basketball saying “NBA Players Association” to the “logoman.” You know what that means. It’s Stern Time.
As we wait for Stern, in other news: Theo Ratliff is tall. Etan Thomas wears clothes that are entirely too big for him. And Matt Bonner looks like a cool dude.
Players just finished speaking. Nothing good to report. They have been presented a deal by Stern that they’ll take to the player representatives in a meeting early next week. Hunter characterised the latest offer as: “not the best deal in the world.” Wonderful.
Also, I lost the bet.
Talks are over. I almost got toppled over on the way down to the press conference floor. Which probably normally functions as a dance floor. The union will speak first.
Reports are matriculating that Stern is about to present the union with a revised offer – but not the 47% offer he threatened over the weekend. This could go very well. Or Billy Hunter could slam his book shut and walk out the door. Meanwhile, I’ll keep doing what I’ve been doing the past seven hours: sitting in an uncomfortable chair.
I’ve been here for nearly seven hours. Dan Gilbert’s chilli dogs have been here for longer.
We’ve reached the 10-hour mark. David Alrdige is tweeting that there’s still a “long list” of issues to be worked out. Meanwhile, that wine cooler is still staring at me. Chilled Pinot Noir would really hit the spot.
Merely a curtain separates the stakeout room from the hotel bar. It’s getting to that point in the night where people are gaining the courage to simply walk right in. They were promptly removed. NBA security looks pissed.
Two women made their way into stakeout room. Not to cover the lockout. Just to take photos in front of the podium. You can’t make this stuff up.
In Unrelated related lockout news…Michael Bush is on pace for 320 yards and four touchdowns tonight. He’s also on my fantasy team. That has to be a sign!
It’s time to get a breath of fresh air. And by that, I mean walk around ouside no farther than a four-block radius from the hotel while constantly checking Twitter in case I need to sprint back in time for press conferences.
Only four hours to go until I win the journalist pool. Get excited. I need to find a replay of a Sox/Yanks game to pass the time.
I hear there’s a football game going on right now. Heard. Not saw.
Someone needs to falsely report the lockout is over. We’re growing restless in here.
Bryan Fields, simply, “a basketball fan,” fronted the bill for another round of pizzas. All he asked in return was for his beloved Knicks to play basketball again. HAVE A HEART, COMMISSIONER.
A crew just spent several minutes testing the microphones. Either meetings are wrapping up soon. Or they’re taking every precaution not to piss off Derek Fisher again.
David Aldridge is speaking on camera for NBATV about 20 feet away. He’s talking a lot of numbers and using terms like “repeater tax.” My head hurts. No wonder this is taking so long.
Just officially entered my first NBA lockout when-will-today’s-meeting-adjourn pool. I won’t say the bill collector’s name – don’t want to get him in trouble. But cross your fingers for an annoucement around 12:55 Friday morning.
Broussard just went in for a chilli dog. Good man.
Just learned my no-longer-warm chilli dog was courtesy of Dan Gilbert. Thanks, comic sans font guy! When ESPN’s Chris Broussard asked if they were still good, I called it “the best damn cold chilli dog I’d ever had.”
The tweet about Checketts’ radio remarks certainly set off a firestorm within the restaurant stakeout room. But multiple sources with knowledge of the negotiations have since denied the report.
There’s been a small buzz in the room after reports that Dave Checketts, former president of the Jazz and Knicks, went on a radio station to say that he’s hearing a CBA deal has been reached. Every NBA journalist in the room reacted the same way: a chuckle and a roll of the eyes.
I’m sitting directly across from a wine cooler. I have no joke for this. But if the consensus is no agreement again…best believe that will be the first glass to go.
And I arrived to some fantastic news! No, not that they have come to an agreement after four hours. But…we’ve got chilli dogs!
Back at the stakeout spot. We’ve been “updgraded” to the restuarant area. Although it’s might hot in here. There are two microphones set up at the podium. Good omens now have a 3-1 advantage. I don’t care how much of a stretch this is.
While walking to the hotel I spotted the shoe version of dove wings. I love hipsters. I’m taking this as another good omen.
Getting ready to head back over to today’s meetings. There’s already word that the first hour didn’t go so well. I’ll consider that a bad omen.
Just got back from a run. While passing the Nets new Brooklyn stadium, I could have sworn I saw a dove flying by the Barclays centre. That, or a white trash bag. I’ll consider this a good omen. And not a sanitary issue.
Was just woken up by a pack of school children outside my window. It sounded as though they were fighting over a ball of some sort. Then the teacher came over and requested they share it equally. What a novel concept…
DAY 2….Or a continuation of DAY 1…depending on how you want to look at it.
Couldn’t help it. Had to write up a quick lockout story before calling it a night. I hope it makes sense. I fell fell asleep three times editing it. Goodnight, Stern. Goodnight, Fisher. Goodnight, moon.
Hopped the 4-train back to Brooklyn to catch whatever sleep I could manage before returning to meetings in the morning. And let’s just say I “smelled something flagrantly foul.” Like Ronny Turiaf-flagrant. Morale of the story: don’t ride the 4-train back to Brooklyn at 2:15 in the morning.
To be continued…
So ‘D-Day’ came and passed. ‘D-Day: II’ begins tomorrow later today.
Just listened to both sides. Unclear how much progress was actually made in half a day’s worth of negotiations. What they have agreed on is reconvening tomorrow for more talks.
At the crack of the 12th hour we are told meetings have concluded. Journalists have just been ordered into room for Stern’s press conference. We’ll then be going to the other room for the player’s press conference. Two separate press conferences = not good.
What would we do without Darren Rovell? Midnight snacks of yogurt-covered pretzels were clutch. But I’m still falling asleep as I type this.
At this point, if we don’t see smiles and handshakes between David Stern and Billy Hunter tonight this morning, there may be some PSU-like riots taking place at a downtown Manhattan hotel.
Instead of getting to watch the amazing shots Penn State’s campus on television, I’m staring at a screen covered in basketballs. Which I swear are laughing at me. That or it’s my bedtime.
Pondering whether I should play the role of crazed reporter whenever the hell I get that opportunity tonight. Maybe? Unlikely. Definitely not. OK, that’s settled.
This night is surreal. Romney. Paterno. It’s like NBA lockout is now an afterthought. Is this real life?
We just spent the last 10 minutes figuring out Rachel Nichols’ correct Twitter handle. For the record, there are two underscores in between her name: @Rachel__Nichols
Rachel Nichols just sent us cupcakes. Does it get any better than this?
It’s clear that the hotel’s janitors are following this blog. They just blasted the air conditioning. It. Is. Cold.
We are quickly approaching hour nine of today’s talks. True, it’s only hour number six for me. But those three pizza slices may as well have been three additional hours. It’s time for a nap. I wonder if I can fit under Derek Fisher’s podium?
Lotta action and distractions going on in the room as NBATV sets up for a press conference. It could be hours, of course, until those cameras and boom mics are actually needed.
There’s a reason I’ve been AWOL for 30 minutes. It’s called not four, not five, not six….but EIGHT boxes of pizza. Hey, Tim Frank. You were right. I am having fun.
It’s really cold in here. Like a Rajon Rondo mid-range jumper.
There are retro phone booths just outside our room. Naturally, grown men forced to spend hours in hotel lobbys during the lockout are now locking themselves in said phone booths and taking silly photographs. Here’s your evidence (of ESPN’s Henry Abbott, photo courtesy of Alan Hahn):
We were just moved into the NBA Players Association press conference room. No, not because we are about to hear NBA players. Apparently ballroom No. 1 had to be “freshened up.” The NBA’s Tim Frank just walked in and asked if “We’re having fun?” Yes, Tim. We are.
In a very related note, David Aldridge and Howard Beck are tweeting that dinner is being ordered by the negotiators. It probably won’t come in a paper bag. It probably does mean I’ll be here all night. And be eating Pax for dinner.
As I hit “enter,” three people walked in with Pax paper bags.
I’ve never been to Pax. But I’m ready to unofficially call it the official food of NBA lockout journalists. I mean…you can eat in, take out, and enjoy breakfast, lunch and dinner. I received zero free food for this.
A few camerman just left. No, not to set up for post-meeting interviews. Yes, to go home. They’re either the smartest people here. Or soft. Probably the former.
It’s awfully quiet in here. Unless you count that guy in the back pounding away on his keyboard like LeBron James did to Dwyane Wade after that corner-three in the NBA Finals. #Signs that I miss basketball. This is Twitter, right?
NBA PR guys entered the room to confirm that both sides are, in fact, still talking. That’s a good sign. It also means I’ll probably be here all night.
Phew. I was sweating that out like Y2K.
God, it’s me, Ariel. Are we still here?
Oh. My. God. One minute until the end of the world Stern’s so-called deadline.
Just helped CNBC’s Darren Rovell solve an extension cord riddle. I should probably make like George Costanza and go home now.
With my computer battery running lower than Michael Jordan’s labour offer, I was forced to seek a new stakeout position. And found it, next to a guy who said I could share his extension cord…just not that one. I think he was joking. I’m still here at least.
Just overheard in room – the “Jeopardy” music. Or muzak? Anyways…40 minutes and counting until Stern’s “deadline.” Though that doesn’t mean it will be 40 minutes until the two sides emerge.
Settled in. Surrounded by writers from ESPN, Sports Illustrated and the New York Times, to name a few. The floral pattern in the waiting room is absolutely lovely.
Just walked past a little girl being dragged by her mother. She carried a look on her face similar to David Stern’s the last time I saw him…neither were pretty.
Just received word on where today’s final ongoing NBA lockout negotiations are taking place. So I booked it out out the Mariott Marquis and hustled to my second Manhanttan hotel of the day.
Just got done interviewing Bill Simmons – yes, that Bill Simmons – at the SBJD’s Sports Media and Technology convention in Times Square. I was nervous as hell. My first question warranted a one word response. But I overcame, and received some good soundbites from the Grantland editor. He came off as really nice and wished me well.
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