Making the calls: basketball's striped shirts

      (Part II of series)
       Robert "Tony" Rhodes of Shreveport officiated a thousand-plus basketball games in 32 years. Two stand out.

Tony Rhodes, left, makes a call late in the 1980 NCAA men's Final
Four semifinal between UCLA (in blue) and Purdue.
(photo taken from official NCAA Final Four film, off YouTube)

       In March 1980, in Indianapolis, Rhodes -- for decades a high school coach in Northwest Louisiana -- was one of the officials in the NCAA Tournament's men's Final Four.
      Yes, the big show.
      He was one of three men calling the second semifinal, UCLA vs. Purdue. (UCLA, coached by Larry Brown, won to advance to the championship game vs. Louisville). Two days later, Tony helped call the third-place game: Purdue vs. Iowa.
      Known for his cool demeanor, good judgment, hustle, and strong mechanics, Rhodes was the epitome of the many college basketball officials from the area.
      He followed in the tradition of the area's most familiar  tandem of the 1950s and early 1960s, K.P. "Frenchy" Arceneaux and Alaric Smith, although they were better known as baseball umpires.
      And Tony preceded and overlapped with another prominent big-time Shreveport-Bossier college basketball referee: Mike Thibodeaux.

Mike Thibodeaux watches carefully

      Thibodeaux never got to the Final Four, but he got as close as a couple of Elite Eight assignments and his credentials are strong: 36 seasons, 27 in the Southeastern Conference, 14 NCAA Tournaments.       
      He left the floor for good just a couple of years ago -- after two hip replacements -- but remains deeply involved in officiating in Northwest Louisiana, although -- in a twist -- not in basketball.
       He is in his 28th year as the football assigning secretary for Louisiana High School Athletic Association area schools, and also has assigned baseball officials the past four years.
       Those positions might be as difficult as officiating games themselves.
       And Thibodeaux came away with a surprising connection ... ready? He has a friendship (of sorts) with Bobby Knight. Is that possible? Read on.
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       Among others from the Shreveport-Bossier area who officiated college basketball:
       -- Carl Pierson, the tall, lean junior high coach who became longtime athletic director for Caddo Parish schools. He called Southwestern Athletic Conference games for men and women for years (and also officiated football).
       -- Ed Hearron, coach-turned school administrator who was a Southland Conference referee for two decades (also worked in the Trans America and American South conferences) and called in a Final Four of the NCAA Division II championships.
       -- Danny Walker, whose two decades included games in the SEC among several conferences. (More on him below.)
       -- Billy Grisham, later a ref-turned-softball coach, was a confident referee in local high school gyms and officiated in the old Trans America Athletic Conference.
       -- Ron Payne, of nearby Plain Dealing, who had time in the Southland Conference. So did the late Mark Hensley of Haughton.
       All of them, plus Rhodes and Thibodeaux, got their starts at the local level and, for a couple, the experience grew with games in the very competitive East Texas junior college circuit -- Tyler, Kilgore, etc.
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Tony Rhodes today

       For most of three decades, Tony Rhodes was a high school coach -- football in late summer and fall, baseball or football in the spring. 
       First, in the early 1960s, he was an assistant at DeSoto (Mansfield), where he helped two future major-league pitchers, Vida Blue and Jesse Hudson, get started in baseball (they were football standouts, too). Then he moved as head coach to Walnut Hill, one of the smaller all-black schools on the outskirts of southwest Shreveport. He was there five years.
       When Caddo Parish schools integrated in January 1970, and Walnut Hill was phased out, Rhodes became a football assistant/head baseball coach at first-year Southwood High.
      Through the integration merging, black head coaches who had been moved to assistant jobs at previously all-white schools, were promised head coaching jobs when they came open. That happened for Tony in 1973 when Huntington High School opened in far west Shreveport.
       He was the Raiders' head coach for 18 football seasons. There wasn't overwhelming success, but the highlights were four district championships in a six-year span (1980, 1983-85) and five playoff teams, and a stretch of nine seasons in 10 with .500 or better records.

Another view, another call: Tony Rhodes, Final Four, 1980

       He was as well-known, though, for his "second job" -- basketball referee.
       It was not only a supplemental income, it kept him on the road each winter from 1965 to '97.
       At times, he called games in the Metro Conference, the Southland, SWAC, TAAC, and Big State (Texas schools), plus games for smaller schools in East Texas. 
       The NBA took a look, too -- in 1969, he called an exhibition game.
       There was more time for officiating after he left coaching following the 1980 season, a half year after his NCAA Final Four assignments. He moved into school administration for a short time, then taught ninth-grade math until retirement. And he officiated for another dozen years.
       He turned 77 earlier this month and still lives in Shreveport.
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       Mike Thibodeaux, 61, living in Princeton (rural Bossier Parish), was an athlete of sorts (basketball-baseball) at Southwood High and then Baptist Christian College in Shreveport. 
       Employed by Kansas City Southern railroad while living in Baton Rouge in 1980, he saw ads advertising for prospective officials for basketball and baseball, and joined up. Working games and then attending summer officiating camps, he grew more experienced and more interested.
       It was with the help of Mac Chauvin, an SEC referee and top Louisiana high school official from Baton Rouge (he later became assistant commissioner of the Louisiana High School Athletic Association in charge of officiating), that Thibodeaux broke into college basketball.
       By 1986, he was calling Southland, Sun Belt and TAAC games, the SEC spot opened in 1989, and Conference USA and the Southwest Conference (later the Big 12) picked him up, too.
       Back in Shreveport, he retired as a data processor with KCS in 2000, having often worked midnight shifts to create more time for officiating in the winter. 
       All the running took its toll, and his hips gave out. "A hundred games a year will do that to you," he said.
       In the Big 12 Conference, from 2001 to 2008, he occasionally refereed games involving Texas Tech and head coach Bob Knight -- the notorious one, never hesitant to rudely blast refs or anyone who displeased him. 
       "We hit it off well," said Thibodeaux. (Not making this up). In fact, he worked one of Knight's monumental victories, the one which broke Dean Smith's record for most wins by a men's college head coach.
       A photograph caught Knight pointedly talking to Thibodeaux -- wonder what he was saying? -- and the coach signed a copy of it for the ref. 
       When Dr. Billy Bundrick, North Louisiana's foremost orthopedic surgeon involved in athletics, saw the photo, he asked Thibodeaux for a copy. So did Northwest Louisiana Fellowship of Christian Athletics director Terry Slack, who wanted it for an FCA auction.
       "That won't bring you anything," Thibodeaux joked. A Knight fan bought the copy for $2,000.
       As much "stuff" as Thibodeaux caught from coaches and fans during his officiating days, he has found the football assigning secretary role almost as controversial.
       "You have to defend actions by others [officials] every Saturday," he said of coaches calling to complain about crews in their games. "That is difficult because I haven't seen the games or the tapes. When I was officiating on the basketball floor, I was in charge for 40 minutes and knew how to handle myself."
         Thibodeaux stayed in the game and proved for 3 1/2 decades he could handle the heat.
--- 
         Those who know Danny Walker know he is multi-talented (ordained minister, college sociology professor, sports radio play-by-play announcer, political consultant, successful owner/operator of Texas hospice facilities) and an upbeat, funny teller of tales.
         He was a demon basketball and tennis player at Fair Park High, chasing down opponents and smashes with abandon, and leaving lots of laughs as he played.
         Not as demonstrative as an official as when he played, he didn't mind the spotlight. He called SEC games, the Southland, TAAC, Metro, Sun Belt and other leagues.
        Two games he refereed at Centenary College's Gold Dome stand out:
         -- Nationally ranked University of Houston's one-point victory over Centenary in the 1972-73 season finale when Gents' freshman 7-foot center Robert Parish (No. 00) missed two free throws with 0:00 showing on the clock (and no one else on the playing floor).
         -- Indiana State's January 1977 three-point victory -- a last-minute comeback -- when its top player was a super-talented and relatively unknown 6-8 sophomore forward, Larry Bird ("he scored 28 points," Walker remembers). 
         What he remembers, too, is "I must have called a thousand games with Tony Rhodes."
         Good times. Good calls.
 

The saga of Paratrooper Harry ...

    Let me tell you about Paratrooper Harry.
    He was in the emergency room near the beginning of my stay at Texas Health Harris Methodist two weeks ago. He was, as I figure it, at least 90, a tall, thin man sitting erect in his wheelchair, white hair cropped short, very large hearing aids behind each ear. 
      He was dressed -- keep this in mind -- appropriately in a tan flight suit, with brown loafers. 
      Really, he could hear little, except maybe his very loud son sitting next to him most of the time. Everyone could hear the son -- the 35-50 patients-to-be, plus all emergency-room personnel, and also people in Aledo and Granbury.
      Son -- about 50, ruddy-faced, barrel-chested, short sandy hair, let's call him Black Shirt -- wheeled Harry in not long after we arrived. As he did, he announced that he would have been there sooner but he first had to help a man having a heart attack from his car near the emergency-room drive-in area. 
       (To be sure, Bea also heard the same story out in the waiting area.)
       Black Shirt told everyone that Harry's legs were hurting badly.
       Harry did not want to be there. Not that any of us did. But he made it pretty clear. If he bellowed "LET'S GO HOME!" once, he did it 25 times. Usually followed by "WE CAN COME BACK TOMORROW."
       Each time Black Shirt told him "no," or "keep quiet," or "they'll get to us," or "just sit there and wait" -- and often they were not gently admonishments. My stomach was hurting plenty already, but hurt as much for Harry.
       And because on this day the emergency-room area was -- as my Dad would have said -- loaded, we all had long waits. (Personally, we spent 10 hours before I was placed in a hospital room.)
       At one point, Black Shirt announced that he had to go move his car and asked people nearby -- also hurting and/or waiting -- to look after Harry. While the son was gone for some 15-20 minutes, Harry sat and never said a word; a couple of people checked on him. 
       Black Shirt returned and I remember cringing when he said to Harry that his insurance was all in order, and so was the inheritance he would leave the family. 
       A couple of times, he put his cellphone to Harry's ear -- "to talk to Mama," he proclaimed -- and it was obvious Harry could not hear a thing. But, as Black Shirt noted, he wanted Harry to know that his family cared.
       And then this ...
       Coming back from one bathroom break for Harry, Black Shirt rolled him back through and said -- loudly, of course -- to those around him, "Harry (name) ... paratrooper, U.S. Army, World War II."
       That stuck with me. Let's see, 72 years since the end of WW II, so if Harry had gone in the service at age 17 or close, he had to be about 90.
       All that passage of time to come to this.
       The reporter in me wanted to hear his story. But there was that stomach pain -- this was 6-7 hours before we were given the  "bowel obstruction" diagnosis -- so I wasn't in the mood, and the timing wasn't right.
       After an initial consultation, an EKG, my first-ever CT scan and then insertion of an IV when it was obvious that I was going to be admitted to the hospital, I returned to the waiting area for another hour. 
       Harry was still urging "LET'S GO HOME" to Black Shirt, who announced to everyone that the EM doctors felt that Harry's problem was sepsis in both legs. I heard that and thought, "Oh, gosh."
       Had to feel, too, for the son, who obviously wanted the best for his father, and it was fairly obvious that Harry was limited mentally (dementia? Alzheimer's?). Tough spot for Black Shirt.
       Not sure how it came out, but Bea heard that if sepsis -- a potentially life-threatening complication from infection --  was the correct call, it was likely that both of Harry's legs were going to be amputated. 
       To think how much this man had done and seen in his years, how he had served his country. What a life he must have had, what adventures.
       No words, other than, God bless Harry the Paratrooper.

Bowel obstruction: eight slow, long days in a hospital

     Some advice: If you can avoid a small bowel obstruction, do so. I did not.
     Bottom line, on Tuesday morning, after six days of waiting and worrying, I had internal surgery, the removal of adhesions (old scar tissue) that had blocked the entry point for my bowels.
      First, I am fine. Home, as of Thursday evening. Ready to go for my daily walk. Ready to eat -- low-residue diet for a while, which is more calories than I want or need. Ready for more games, more life.
      With only the second hospital stay of my adult life -- 46 years apart (an early August 1971 appendectomy, and keep that in mind) -- behind me. 
      Eight days at Texas Health Harris Methodist, in the Fort Worth Medical District. And you were wondering why you hadn't heard from me.
      This began with a 2:30 a.m. wakeup Wednesday, Sept. 13, with severe stomach pain. It turned into a late-afternoon doctor's visit, who noting on paper that I "looked very ill," suggested the emergency room.
      And that became a 12-hour ordeal before I was admitted to the hospital. Yes, another 2:30 a.m.
      I acquired a new experience, a new "buddy" -- six full days with a foot-long NG (nasogastric) tube attachment. It went up the right nostril, down through the throat into the stomach to pump out the fluid and, well, crap, into an attached flask.
      One nurse jokingly called it my "elephant nose." Talk about getting hooked, and a very sore throat. But it only worked to an extent.

Dr. John Birbari

      On our first meeting, Dr. John L. Birbari Jr. -- my new superstar hero, a young, bright, friendly encouraging guy -- had evaluated my situation and said that by using the NG tube to pump the stomach clean, these conditions clear themselves 85 percent of the time. It is a conservative approach.
       Slow, ugly treatment. Not painful, just uncomfortable. To get up and around -- bathroom or a walk in the halls -- the tube had to undone from the flask tubing. The NG "trunk" went everywhere I went, and of course, so did the omnipresent IV pole.
       Stupidly, I thought it would be a 24-hour deal. But, no, it was 120 hours (five days). And then ... hello, 15 percent range. Surgery was a must.
       So, Tuesday at about 10:30 a.m, Dr. Birbari did a (medical term) laparoscopic lysis of abdominal adhesions. That's right.
       A single band of adhesions -- a "souvenir" from the appendectomy -- had stuck to my abdomen, layered in some fatty tissue (hey, 46 years), and thus the blockage. Dr. Birbari clipped the adhesions, put the bowel back in place -- all by scope.
       (If you really want to see, I can send you a photo or two. Not posting it here. Not pretty.)
      Done in about 25 minutes. I never knew; I was out of it.
      Fortunate, with quick recovery time and not a lot of discomfort.
      Importantly, what Dr. Birbari did not have to do was an "enterectomy," make an incision and go inside. The old way. All I have is some lower chest hair gone and three small scope entry marks. And an open small intestine.
      Dr. Birbari also provided the line of the week.
      On the weekend, his partner -- Dr. Doug Lorimer, a distinguished-looking white-haired veteran who had been my personal-care physician's recommendation (his schedule was busy), did the hospital-room visits and explained what was going to happen. He said, assuredly, "John is a magician with the scope."
      The next day, as Dr. Birbari confirmed that surgery would be needed, I relayed the "magician" remark, and he laughed, then cracked, "Glad he didn't say mortician."
      Yeah, me, too.    
---
      Look, this was a temporary setback. Not cancer, a stroke, heart problems -- those are issues that have taken friends from us in recent years, and limited other friends' everyday life. Thought much about those people this week, and about how my parents would have been so concerned.

Top-notch selfless care for us at this facility

     Only told a few friends and some of our family in advance -- no Facebook/e-mail promos. Received concern and tremendous support, and -- no surprise -- Beatrice was a rock. She has been through so many of her own physical challenges.
      Jason (son) was there twice, including the surgery time, and it is not a short drive for him. Rachel (daughter) and Elsa (sister) asked if they should come, too, from long distances.
      Speaking of supportive and caring, the Richardson Tower sixth-floor personnel here at Harris Methodist -- this is the main floor for surgical patients at this hospital complex -- was outstanding. To a person -- doctors, nurses, patient-care technicians -- they could not have been more patient and selfless (that's the word which keeps coming to me). It is all about the patient.
       So thankful, especially to the nurses and techs who made such great efforts, at any moment's call.
        Grateful, period.   

The officials who made the long run

      Not sure if the referee's name was spoken during the telecast of last Saturday's Mississippi State-at-Louisiana Tech football game, but it was flashed on the screen once.

Ken Antee conducting the pregame coin toss for the Mississippi State
at Louisiana Tech game Sept. 9. (photo by Kelly Price, Miss. State)

      Probably he's fine with not much attention. That is the way it is with most game officials, any sport.
      Ken Antee, though, is a familiar face in Conference USA football, and to people in Shreveport-Bossier. And with the traveling he does each fall, calling a game as close to home as Ruston is a plus.
        Like most of us, he saw a once-in-a-lifetime play Saturday -- Tech's astounding 87-yard loss, from second-and-goal at the Mississippi State 6 to third-and-goal (93 yards to go) from the Tech 7.
        He got a close-up view: He had to chase after the bouncing, bouncing, bouncing ball and the players trying to scoop it up or fall on it.
        "One of the strangest things I've seen in 18 years [of college football officiating]," he said a couple of days later.
        It was one of several length-of-the-field plays for the teams -- and the officials -- in a strange game. But Antee, at age 55, was in good enough shape to make those runs, although he admitted his legs are still sore.
         And he still loves being in the game. It is as good as being an attorney, which he's been for 27 years. It might be  better than being Shreveport's chief administrative officer, which he was for eight years (1998-2006) under mayor Keith Hightower.
         "Was is the key word," he said, laughing. Because that job had as much you-can't-please-everyone or you-can't-please-anyone aspect as, well, officiating.
         The object here is not to discuss Antee's abilities or judgment as a football official -- we'll leave that to the various Internet soundoff boards -- but to point out that he is just one  the prominent college/pro game officials, past and present,  with Shreveport-Bossier ties.
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         Let's start with baseball. 
         -- The late Alaric Smith of Bossier City called pro ball for some 15 years, the last five in the majors, and worked two All-Star Games (1961, 1963) and one World Series (1964, Yankees-Cardinals). 
         -- His longtime officiating pal in area basketball and more so in the Texas League in the late 1940s through most of the 1950s was Kurcy Paul Arceneaux, big "Frenchy," a TL legend who became a Shreveport resident and died much too soon (at age 48 in 1971). 
         College basketball:
        --  Robert "Tony" Rhodes, head football coach at Huntington High School for 18 years (from the school's opening in 1973 to 1990), officiated for 32 years and was one of the officials in the 1980 NCAA men's Final Four in Indianapolis.
        -- Mike Thibodeaux recently retired as an official after 36 years, 27 in the SEC, and 14 NCAA Tournaments. He remains involved in athletics as assigning secretary for high school football and baseball in Northwest Louisiana.
        In college football, Bobby Aillet was among the most respected longtime referees in the SEC and called some of the biggest games nationally. So did the late Paul Sprayberry as a field judge.
        More recently, Bobby Aillet Jr. (now living in Monroe) was involved in football officiating for 43 years (19 as a field judge in the SEC), Paul Labenne had 42 years in the game and David Lovell had 16.
        More details in a moment. There are others, and we'll get to some of them. 
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         Aillet is a name with a deep Louisiana Tech association, the football stadium and original football complex named for the longtime athletic director/head coach. Joe Aillet was known to some as "The Smooth Man," and Bobby -- the son and his mid-1940s quarterback -- is much like his father.

Bob Aillet directing traffic at the 1986 Orange Bowl coin toss.
(photo taken from a YouTube video) 

         As a football referee, and in life, he was (and is at age 89) known for his calm, soft-spoken demeanor, and keen intellect. Few had better knowledge of the game's rules and a gentle manner with those who coached and played it.
         In business, he was a civil engineer, a partner in a long-standing, successful company in Shreveport. But during the fall for 36 years, he was Mr. Referee.
         In the first decade (1956-65), he worked high school football -- including four state championship games -- and in the all-Louisiana Gulf States Conference. He was an SEC official from 1962 through 1986, the chief of officials in 1978-82, and an observer for three more years after leaving the field. 
         The sum was 450 total games, 276 in the SEC, and eight bowl games -- and the highlight was the 1986 Orange Bowl, a national-championship victory for the 1985 Oklahoma Sooners over Penn State.

Bob Aillet in Shreveport a year ago
with a significant player who was on the field
in some games he refereed: 1982 Heisman
Trophy winner Herschel Walker (Georgia)
(The Shreveport Times photo)

         The other bottom line was a great deal of respect -- by him for the game, by those in the game for him as the referee.
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        Paul Sprayberry, who died in October 1992, was an All-SEC end for Georgia Tech in 1939 and graduated two years later. He officiated, mostly as a line judge, is 250 SEC games and 16 bowl games. 
        Significantly, he was on the crew for one of the most memorable -- and painful -- losses in LSU football history: the 14-13 game at Tennessee in 1959, ending the Tigers' hopes for a second consecutive national championship. It was the week after the Billy Cannon Halloween-night punt return against Ole Miss, and it was Cannon coming up short on the critical late-game try for the winning PAT run.
        Sprayberry, who kept officiating after the loss of one arm in an accident, also helped call the Sugar Bowl game (Alabama-Nebraska) at the end of the 1966 season, one of the national championship years for Alabama and coach Bear Bryant. The Bama QB: Ken Stabler; the All-America wide receiver: Ray Perkins.
        In Shreveport, he was a division personnel manager for Southern Bell, retiring in 1981.
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        Paul Labenne was a three-sport athlete at Fair Park High in the late 1950s and a standout football running back/defensive back/kick returner and baseball shortstop at Louisiana Tech. 
        He began officiating high school games in Shreveport in the early 1970s, then moved into college football in the Southland Conference and later the Mountain West and Western Athletic Conferences -- first as a back judge, one year as a line judge, then as a referee, and he finished his involvement as a replay official (including a memorable, mixed-up 20-25 minutes one day in a 2011 game at Louisiana Tech). Don't have enough space or time or desire to go into that.
        He refereed one NFL game -- season opener 2001, Tampa Bay at Dallas -- as a replacement, with the regular officials on strike.
        David Lovell, as a back judge and then line judge, was part of Labenne's crew for years and was in six bowl games. Together they worked an NCAA Division I-AA national championship game in the early 1990s, Marshall vs. Youngstown State. The opposing coaches, Jim Donnan and Jim Tressel, would become well-known after moving on to bigger jobs.
        Labenne worked as an insurance agent, as did Lovell, who later became involved in the oil and gas business.       
 ---         
        Bobby Aillet Jr. also was in the crew for the Marshall-Youngstown State title game. A high school official for 20 years (through 1991), he was a college official from 1983 to 2011, plus four years as a replay booth official. 
        His postseason resume' is impressive, too: 13 games, including three SEC Championships, two Rose Bowls and two Fiesta Bowls.
        Retired from 38 years as a supervisor at a Monroe papermill, he is in his seventh year as the assigning secretary for high school games in Northeast Louisiana.
 ---        
        Before integration in athletics in North Louisiana and even afterward, several Shreveport- and Bossier-based officials -- some of them coaches and school administrators -- worked in the all-black Southwestern Athletic Conference: among them, Nolan Thomas and Riley Stewart, Gerald Kimble, John Crockett, Carl Pierson and Henry Pinkney. 
        Thomas, a veteran referee, also was a steady presence in Northwest Louisiana high school games.
        Here is a current name to note: Adam Savoie grew up in Shreveport -- the Cajun restaurant/catering business on East 70th Street is his family's -- and he's an umpire in the American Athletic Conference. What's more, he is among 30 officials taking part in the NFL Officials Development Program this year.        
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        Ken Antee, who is from Buckeye, La. -- 15 1/2 miles east of Alexandria -- and graduated from then-Northeast Louisiana University, was into his law career when he came to Shreveport in 1988. 
         Seeing an ad in the newspaper for prospective high school football officials, he reported for a meeting in Bossier City -- and he was on the field for much of the 1989 season, after a brief time in the usual starting role of clock operator. 
         He worked high school games for 11 years, Arena II games for a long spell, 11 years in Conference USA as a line judge and the last seven as a referee. 
         Plus, he served the city in an official role and the Independence Bowl in a variety of ways, including game chairman one year. 
          As an attorney, he has no problem explaining (debating) game situations with coaches. As an official, he knows better than to pay attention to fans' complaints, in person or online. 
          If his schedule has no postponements -- and a game in south Florida this weekend is iffy -- he will reach his 200th Division I game at the end of this season.
          And we know this: If he has to run 70-80-90 yards once or twice or more per game, he can do it. We've seen it. 
         (Next: Basketball's striped shirts)