May 4, 1948: Detroit, MI:
Rollie Barrell sat behind his desk, deep in thought. The meeting he was about to have could have massive repercussions on the future of his basketball league. As the sunlight filtered through the large windows, highlighting the opulent furnishings, Rollie waited with a mixture of excitement and caution. His visitor, Bernie Millard, was a man known for his sharp wit and even sharper business acumen. The stakes were high, and the outcome of this conversation could potentially reshape the sports landscape.
"Mr. Barrell," a voice boomed as the office door swung open, revealing a stocky figure in a perfectly tailored suit. Bernie Millard strode in with the kind of confidence that came naturally to those who had climbed the ladder of success. His gaze locked onto Rollie's, his handshake firm and unwavering.
"Mr. Millard," Rollie greeted, his tone cordial but guarded. He gestured toward the plush chairs positioned around a low coffee table. "Please, have a seat."
Millard settled into one of the chairs with the ease of a man accustomed to taking charge. Rollie indulged in a bit of preliminary talk about Millard's main business of coal mining. He listened to Millard complain about John L. Lewis and the United Mine Workers, intimating, in no uncertain terms that he thought Lewis was a communist. Rollie had his doubts, but kept his peace.
The preliminaries having been completed, Millard's piercing eyes fixated on Rollie as he leaned forward, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You're a busy man, Rollie. I'll get straight to the point."
Rollie inclined his head, intrigued by Millard's directness. "I appreciate that."
Millard wasted no time. "You know I want in on pro basketball, specifically I want into the FBL. And I've got a plan that I believe will not only make that happen but also strike a blow to our competitors."
Rollie's eyebrows lifted slightly, his interest piqued. "Go on."
Millard leaned back, his fingers steepled as he spoke with rapid-fire precision. "I've worked out a deal to purchase the Pittsburgh Falcons of the ABC. Yes, I know we spoke of this before, and that you have reservations about me defecting."
Rollie's expression remained neutral, but curiosity glimmered in his eyes. "Yes. That would be quite a move. But how's this help the FBL? Aside from stealing a club and escalating our fight with the ABC."
Millard's smile widened. "A seat at the winning table, Rollie. I've already secured a deal with David Welcombe, the owner of the Toronto arena. I will buy the Pittsburgh franchise, and the Falcons will move to Toronto. A new beginning in a new city."
Rollie's skepticism was palpable. "That's quite the shuffle. But you have a problem there – the Toronto Titans of the FBL already play there."
Millard's grin did not waver. "Ah, yes, that is true of course. But I've worked out a solution for that potential fly in the ointment. I plan to purchase the Titans from their eager-to-sell owner, Charles Mitchell. That team is barely afloat, Mitchell wants out, and I'll fold it, take it as a tax loss. Voila, space cleared for the Falcons."
Rollie raised an eyebrow. "Bold move. But as I said these moves would exacerbate the issues the FBL already has in dealings with the ABC, so I ask again: how do you propose this benefits my league?"
Millard's eyes glinted with a knowing glimmer. "I'm offering you a sweetener, Rollie. Along with this package deal, I have handshake agreements from three other ABC clubs – the Boston Centurions, New York Knights, and Washington Statesmen – they are all willing to defect to the FBL."
Rollie leaned back, absorbing this bombshell. He knew, from previous discussions with Millard, that the man wanted to purchase Pittsburgh and bring the club into the FBL. But adding the New York, Boston and Washington clubs? Those were three of the ABC's crown jewels. Rollie's mind boggled at the thought. "That would certainly cripple the ABC. But that's a lot of movement. My league would swell to eleven teams."
Millard leaned forward, his tone taking on an almost conspiratorial note. "Ah, but think it through. The ABC will be left reeling. They'll have to replace those clubs, and probably not in those cities. The FBL already has a presence in Philadelphia, Chicago, and Detroit. Where can they go?"
Rollie's lips curved into a thoughtful smile. Millard's logic was sound, a realization that was hard to ignore. "You make a valid point. Losing those four teams... well, they could go back into Pittsburgh. But even then, they'll be left with Hartford, Richmond, Rochester, and," Rollie paused and looked eyes with Millard before saying, "Brooklyn."
Millard's voice remained steady and he hald Rollie's gaze. He knew of Rollie's history with basketball in Brooklyn and his erstwhile friendship with Brooklyn Red Caps owner Daniel Prescott. "This is an opportunity, Rollie. An opportunity to emerge victorious in this so-called basketball war in one fell swoop."
Rollie's gaze met Millard's, a moment of understanding passing between them. "You're right. I almost feel sorry for Prescott."
Millard chuckled, the sound a mixture of amusement and pragmatism. "Prescott's a prig. And this is business. Never let your feelings get in the way of a sound business decision, Rollie."
Rollie tapped his chin as he thought for a moment. "And what if I'd rather have the Falcons stay in Pittsburgh? If nothing else, it blocks that city from the ABC..."
Millard frowned. "I certainly have nothing against Pittsburgh. I was born in Allegheny. But there's a certain... symmetry with my ownership of the Wolves in Toronto."
Rollie pursed his lips. "I'd ask you to at least consider it, Mr. Millard," he said, adding, "Just in case." He explained that Charlie Mitchell was a man prone to changing his mind and he might very well decide to keep the Titans.
Millard smirked as he pointed out that he had a deal with Welcombe, to which Rollie countered that Mitchell could say the same, and his lease was already on record.
Millard's reluctance was evident, but he agreed that should Mitchell prove intractable, he'd be willing to keep the Falcons in Pittsburgh. For now.
Rollie nodded, a sense of resolve settling over him. "Very well, Mr. Millard. You're free to begin your negotiations. If the terms you've laid out are indeed as solid as you claim, then I believe we have a deal."
Millard's smile was that of a man who had achieved his objective. "Excellent. You won't regret this, Rollie. The FBL is about to enter a new era."
The two men stood, their handshake likely sealing the fate of the American Basketball Conference. Millard left, leaving Rollie to ponder what he'd just agreed to do.
Prescott, the only real power left in the ABC if Millard could make good on his claims, would move heaven and earth to keep his league afloat. But could he do it? Losing New York, Boston and Washington... that was a crippling blow. Where could the ABC go? Pittsburgh maybe, Baltimore probably - Rollie knew the FBL's Barons would probably fold, the financial burden of fighting the war with the ABC was hard on the FBL's owners, and surely just as hard on the ABC magnates. Would Prescott have the guts to go head-to-head in one or more cities? That could be a major problem, if that was the path chosen. Would he go into an open market - St. Louis? Milwaukee? These were places Rollie had been considering and going there would give the ABC a midwestern presence it currently sorely lacked.
Rollie stood and looked out the window. There were some issues with this deal... the New York club was owned by Sam Bigsby for one thing. Despite the payoff he'd received from the Bigsbys years earlier, Rollie still held a grudge against them. The current FBL owners might not be thrilled to be absorbing four ABC clubs, all of which had very talented rosters and one of which, the Washington Statesmen, was a juggernaut. But there was no doubt at all in Rollie's mind that losing those four teams would sink the ABC within two seasons.
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Rollie Barrell ponders Bernie Millard's proposal
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