The Asher Archives
The Loophole Owner
November 12, 2051
By Asher Raines
“The whole point of playing at home is to gain an advantage, right?”
Columbus Stampede forward Armani Howard shakes his head as he remembers the opening seconds of his team’s late-July road game against the Oakland Ospreys.
“My first thought was, ‘What’s going on? Is this an emergency?’ I was looking everywhere, trying to see if there was danger. I didn’t know if I needed to evacuate. I was scared.”
Just after tipoff, sirens began roaring throughout the Pandora Arena. As the Stampede desperately tried to make sense of the situation, Rhys Boling fired a pass to Kai Bellamy, who drove to the basket and made an uncontested Ospreys layup.
Stampede head coach Jason Nunn immediately called a timeout and ran towards the officials for clarification on what had just occurred. Moments later, he could be seen screaming and gesticulating wildly before swiping the air and storming back to his bench.
The sirens continued, but there was no cause for concern. It was only part of a scheme devised to disorient the Stampede, made possible by exploiting a loophole in the Basketball 2.0 League’s rulebook.
“I know they’ve done s — — like that before, so maybe we should’ve seen it coming,” Howard said. “But man, that was f — -ed up.”
Immoral or not, it was technically legal. And up in the Ospreys owner’s box, Tyson Colburn, wearing noise-cancelling headphones, couldn’t help but laugh as a new experiment was beginning.
It’s obvious within minutes of meeting Colburn that something doesn’t add up. I tell him as much.
When he insisted we do the interview at his place, I was expecting to arrive at a luxury home rather than a relatively nondescript apartment building. And as the man with a reported nine-figure net worth came down to the lobby to let me up, he looked more like a patron of a 99 Cent Store.
“A big house, fancy wardrobe — what do I need any of that stuff for?” he says. “I’m just me.”
Indeed he is — and just as I begin to entertain the idea that the owner of a professional sports franchise might at least live in a penthouse, Colburn takes me to his standard one-bedroom abode before apologizing if it’s a bit warm. The air conditioner stopped working a week ago but he’s been too lazy to put in a maintenance request.
And this is supposed to be one of the biggest villains in sports?
“Yeah, I don’t really understand the way I’m perceived,” Colburn says, sighing. “I don’t think I’m a bad guy. Although, I suppose we’re all protagonists of our own story.”
It’s true that this wasn’t what I was expecting, but I didn’t exactly know what to expect in the first place. Colburn doesn’t give many interviews, although he’s quick to confess there have been fewer requests over the years than one would think.
After leaving his position as the CEO of the artificial intelligence company Sevaron in 2049 at the still very young age of 30, he was radio silent for an entire year before being announced as the owner of Oakland’s team in the upcoming Basketball 2.0 League, now commonly referred to as the B2 League or just B2.
Colburn is quiet. His words are carefully considered. You get the feeling that he spent that year out of the spotlight thinking about anything and everything. I wanted to see where those thoughts had led him. And of course, to get an explanation for the stunts that put the sports world on notice.
As its full name would suggest, the B2 was intended to somewhat reinvent the game of basketball.
With a 20-second shot clock, games would be even more fast-paced. The addition of a four-point line and allowing teams to choose where to draw the three and four-point lines added an extra dimension of strategy.
Live-ball substitutions minimized stoppages of play and allowed for offense or defensive specialists to flourish. And then there were the power plays.
Any time a player is called for a technical or flagrant foul, he is removed from the game, and his team must play a man down for the next two possessions. On the flip side, every time a team dunks the ball, they get an extra player for two possessions. This means that should a team dunk on back-to-back possessions, they could have seven players on the court.
These new regulations have been lauded by many and loathed by others, but they’re in the rulebook. Players, officials, and fans can all agree that in the B2, this is how the game is played.
When Tyson Colburn announced in his introductory press conference for the Ospreys that fans would see “basketball like it’s never been played before,” these modifications to the NBA rules were what everyone thought he was referring to.
Now, it’s clear Colburn had something else in mind.
The source of the controversy is two lines from the B2 rulebook. First, one that states “all playing conditions must be the same for both teams.”
This was originally written to refer to the custom-drawn three and four-point lines. After all, it would be unfair for one team’s lines to be closer to the basket than their opposition’s. However, in the mind of someone like Colburn, these words can be construed to allow additional manipulation of the arena environment so long as it affects both teams equally.
In more practical terms, the rule inadvertently allows sirens to sound loudly during a game if it’s a constant distraction, and not just when one team has the ball.
The second line in the rulebook stated that “alterations to the rulebook will be considered only after the end of the season,” with the thinking that the new regulations should be given a fair chance before the league decides if they should remain in future years.
This combination of principles unwittingly gave Colburn free reign to employ his, let’s just say, “inventive strategies” which have made headlines all season long. But as the playoffs begin this week without the Ospreys and the B2 has made it clear they will amend the rulebook to eliminate the loophole, it seems there will be no more aces up Colburn’s sleeve.
“You have to understand that I grew up here in the Bay Area. It was tough. I mean, not in the traditional sense. We never had to worry about where our next meal was coming from. But everything was so competitive, so stressful.”
I wanted to know more about Colburn’s childhood to see what circumstances helped shape his life and make him think about things with such crafty incisiveness.
“My parents are successful. Dad’s a programmer, mom’s a doctor. They weren’t pushy in the sense that they outlined my career choices, although that definitely happened with some people I knew. But they had high standards, and especially being an only child, I felt a lot of pressure not to disappoint them.”
“Did you ever cheat in school?”
“I don’t like what you’re implying.”
“I understand. You’re not cheating in the B2. Still, can you answer the question?”
Colburn pauses for a few moments.
“Let me tell you something. Where I went to school, from the time you can read, you’re like a hamster on a wheel. Because once you can read, then you need to be on the highest reading level. And then you need to be classified as “gifted” and get into the advanced math classes.
You’re basically taught that grades and standardized test scores are your worth as a person. And then there are all these fear tactics. The moment you hit middle school, everything gets treated so seriously. You’re told you need to develop good habits now because it won’t be so easy in high school.
Then you get to high school, and everything becomes about college. Because if you don’t get into a good college, it’ll ruin your life. So everyone has to play the GPA game and fight over class rank while at the same time doing so many extracurriculars that there’s hardly time for sleep to build your resume. You’ve gotta take courses over the summer for PSAT prep to become a National Merit Scholar, and then for the SAT and ACT. And then when you go back to school, you’re limited in the electives you take, because everything has to be an AP class. Again, for the GPA, unless you play a sport. Sorry, you wanted to take an art class? That’s funny. How about AP Art History instead? Man, what 16-year-old gives a damn about art history?
So when you ask me if I ever cheated, you’re damn right I cheated. I did what I had to do. Because everyone cheated, and we had to compete with each other. Kids were so god damn afraid to fail that it didn’t matter how you got the grade, just that you did.”
“How did it feel going through all of that?”
“You felt trapped. There would be these cycles of burnout, but the stakes always felt so high that there was nothing you could do but keep going. And, you know, everyone said they cared about your mental health, but that was only true until it got in the way of the goals that are set out for you. Then you just need to work harder.
It doesn’t end in high school, either. When you get to college, the GPA game is still on, and now everyone’s competing for the best internships or research positions or jobs or whatever. And you know what the worst part is?”
“What?”
“Because everyone’s competing for the same things, and to be the most successful, no one’s happy for you whenever you do accomplish something, because then you’re ahead of them.
So I ended up dropping out and playing the startup game, right? Which has its own toxic work culture, by the way. Obviously, I was able to do incredibly well for myself. But even then, the people I thought were my closest friends didn’t seem to be excited for me. They were just jealous.
Eventually, I had to get out of that soul-sucking world. The biggest lesson I learned is to pay attention to who’s happy when you succeed, and more importantly, who isn’t, or who says nothing at all.”
“Who’s happy for you now?”
Another long pause.
“No one.”
The first few Ospreys home games went without any distractions. They were just like any other game in the B2.
“Well, the first home game is like a celebration. You welcome in the fans, and everyone gets to see the new rules in action and watch the team play.
Then after that, you need time to practice in the different game conditions. That’s where, theoretically, the edge comes into play. Your team has experience playing in a new environment, and the other team doesn’t.”
The first “new environment” came in the Ospreys’ fourth home game, against the Seattle Nirvana.
“Where did the idea for the camouflage court come from?”
“Yeah. So when I started thinking about creative ways to use home court, the senses immediately came to mind. And clearly, the most important of the senses, at the very least on a basketball court, is sight. But we can’t force our opponents to wear blindfolds, and even if we could, we’d have to wear them as well.
But then, I remembered those retro ‘Miami Vice’ Heat jerseys. At one point on their home floor, the paint was colored with the same gradient as the jerseys. The players didn’t quite blend in, but it was visually jarring. I thought we could take that idea to the next level and really camouflage ourselves so the opposing team wouldn’t be able to see us. Of course, it didn’t exactly go as planned.”
The Ospreys suited up in alternate, entirely bright blue jerseys. Their court was painted entirely the same color, with the exception of the lines, which were all in white. But that wasn’t the end of it.
“Thinking in only two dimensions is just so one-dimensional.”
A series of projectors engulfed the playing area in blue light from the ground to well above the basket. It was a vast chamber of blue, and somewhere in the middle was a basketball game.
It was Colburn’s first experiment. However, as he alluded to, it backfired tremendously. In multiple ways.
First, on the court. Despite the Ospreys spending multiple practices getting used to playing in the camouflage environment, it still wasn’t seamless. However, the Nirvana didn’t have this issue, as their teammates were the only parts of the court that weren’t bright blue.
Both sides of the ball were impacted. The camouflage made it tough to find teammates on offense but also weakened peripheral vision, making rotations and help defense challenging. The Nirvana benefitted from these struggles and coasted to a 94–72 road victory.
But the game’s result was the least of the team’s worries. Fans, who thought they were dressing appropriately for the team’s slyly promoted “Camo Night” were met with the rude awakening of not being able to clearly see their home team play basketball.
And while the Jumbotron display edited out the blue light, making the game significantly more visible, many fans booed and demanded ticket refunds, which were paid out.
“How do you feel about that game now, and how the experience was for the fans in particular?”
“Well, it was a failure. At the time, I thought the fans would be more on board with what we were trying to do, but in hindsight, it made for a poor experience, especially for a lot of folks’ first experience with the team.
I should’ve thought through the idea a lot more, too. It was fun in theory, but it was never going to work. I failed the guys, so it’s all on me. But all you can do is live and learn.”
With a promise to be more forthcoming to fans about future experiments and provide accommodations to fans when appropriate, the Ospreys stated that they had learned.
The following week, it was time to live again.
With the Montreal Royals coming to town, a new plan went into action. If camouflage is intended to make someone invisible, the opposite of that would be seeing double.
Mirrors were strategically placed around the court to confuse the Royals. And while once again the effectiveness of the strategy was questionable, the Ospreys won the game 87–83.
There was a distinct difference in media coverage between the Ospreys’ matchups against the Nirvana and the Royals. The response to the camouflage game largely ridiculed Colburn for his shortsightedness in doing something that would enrage a large portion of the Ospreys fan base and mocked the team for its humiliating defeat despite the antics used.
However, the mirror game caused people to get angry. The Ospreys were accused of cheating, and the story grew from a “hey, look what this B2 team did” story on the fringes of the cultural conversation to a headline event that went viral and got the pundits involved.
Both Colburn and the B2 league office were forced to make statements about the event, with the latter begrudgingly confirming the legality of using mirrors in an attempt to gain an advantage due to the aforementioned clauses in the rulebook.
This drew even more media attention, criticizing both the Ospreys for exploiting the rules in an arguably unethical manner and the league for allowing the team to do so.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it? People were only mad when we won.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Because first, we were seen as a gimmick. Everyone is more than happy to point fingers and laugh when they think you’re doing something dumb. But once you become a threat, it’s not funny anymore. People will look to discredit you or intimidate you. They want you to play by their rules or go away.”
“Can I just ask what made you want to try these experiments in the first place?”
“The whole point of playing at home is to gain an advantage, right?”
“Yeah, I suppose. But typically, that comes from the home fans, or being comfortable in your own gym, or the road team having jet lag. This is different. Why do something you know you weren’t supposed to be able to do?”
“Hmm. Well, I guess I’d say that there’s a fine line we walk with rules. Because on one hand, the expectation of conformity is a side effect of society. If we’re all going to get along and live like civilized human beings, we need to have some guidelines on what people can and cannot do.
At the same time, we don’t advance without creativity. If things always stay the way they are, no progress gets made. Nothing gets better.
Now, the people in charge are never going to be in favor of serious change, because changes to the system that gave them power represent threats to that power. They don’t want you to ruffle feathers. But we do always need to be looking for progress.
In the grand scheme of things, basketball doesn’t matter that much. That being said, if I think I can give my team a better chance at winning by innovating in ways that push the boundaries a little bit, I’m gonna do that.
And by the way, we weren’t the only team with access to the loophole in the rulebook. We’re just the only ones who tried to do anything with it.”
The media coverage generated by the Ospreys helped propel the league as the season progressed. Like with most new leagues, the first few games attracted excitement as potential fans flocked to broadcasts eager to see the new rules in action and to get a sense of what the B2 was all about.
After that initial phase, many people remained interested in the league, but some moved on. In the face of doldrums, the Ospreys kept people talking.
Following the mirror game, the next experiment featured painting the entire court in the pattern of a dizzying optical illusion. That game ended in a loss. The Ospreys then won a game in which laser pointers were placed in fixed positions around the court, including where players would stand when shooting free throws.
The team attempted to use laser pointers for their following home game as well, but Ospreys fans were able to sneak their own laser pointers into the arena and began directing them at New Orleans Noise players, which caused the game to be temporarily suspended before being resumed with no laser pointers at all.
A majority of B2 fans and sports fans in general viewed the Ospreys negatively, but they did attract those looking to root for the villain or to simply see what the team would try next. This, combined with their general notoriety caused the Ospreys to have the highest broadcast ratings in the B2 and to lead the league in merchandise sales.
“Love us or hate us, we weren’t going to stop. But obviously it was really cool to see people responding to what we were doing. We drew viewers, man.”
Behind the scenes, things weren’t so upbeat.
“I just felt like I was being treated like a lab rat,” A.J. Stevenson said.
Stevenson’s story is similar to that of many B2 players. The 6’4” guard spent four years at Akron, finishing as the third-leading scorer in program history and averaging more than 22 points per game as a senior.
After not being selected in the 2050 NBA Draft, Stevenson played in the NBA Summer League with the Indiana Pacers before playing with Galatasaray in the Turkish Basketball Super League. At the end of the season, he returned to the United States to play in the B2 and hopefully earn a chance at his NBA dream.
Little did he know, he would be joining a team he would describe as more of a…well…
“We’re a circus act,” Stevenson bemoaned. “Do you know how frustrating it is to practice with lasers in your face the whole time?”
Colburn brought up an interesting point about the efficacy of his experiments during our conversation.
“That’s the thing. When we play a home game, we want to have that environmental advantage, where we can introduce external stimuli that will throw the opponent off. Maybe it impairs their ability to play basketball, but maybe it just annoys them. That’s just as good. As long as they’re thrown off their game, it’s a win for us.”
In theory, sure. But what if your own players are more bothered than the opposition?
“That’s ridiculous,” Colburn said, appearing agitated by the notion. “Our players should want to do anything possible in order to win. They should be suggesting ideas. They don’t have to all be my plans.”
An anonymous poll of Ospreys players showed that nearly everyone was privately disgruntled by Colburn’s continued experiments. Some expressed concerns about fairness, while others simply wanted to focus on playing basketball.
Ideally, a head coach is supposed to keep their players motivated despite adverse circumstances. However, Greg Raymond was in agreement with the Ospreys roster about the ridiculousness of their situation.
His irritation had been building over the course of the season. The 44-year-old spent 12 seasons in the NBA and won the 2037 NBA Championship with the Philadelphia 76ers before transitioning into coaching. A longtime assistant in the college ranks, the Ospreys job marked his first time leading a team.
It was a great opportunity, but one that came with the major challenge of dealing with Colburn. They privately tangled in heated meetings where Raymond implored Colburn to get rid of the distractions and let him concentrate fully on developing his players and Colburn questioned Raymond’s drive to win.
The players knew little of this early on, but as the season progressed, Raymond admitted his limits were being tested. And then, as sirens roared after the tipoff of his team’s late July home game against the Columbus Stampede, he snapped.
After his team scored an early basket while the Stampede struggled to grasp what was going on, loud, irritating noises played for the rest of the game. The Ospreys won.
Coach Raymond was beyond embarrassed by what had transpired. He issued a personal apology to the Stampede and to fans of the league for not only that game, but all games in which questionable tactics were used to gain an advantage. He then promptly resigned.
“I’m an NBA champion,” Raymond said to the media. “I shouldn’t have to deal with this. Nor should the players, the fans, or you guys. I can’t control the rest of that, but the best thing for me moving forward is to remove myself from this team.”
The game and Raymond’s subsequent resignation once again renewed debate over the Ospreys’ controversial tactics, with many calling it the team’s most egregious stunt yet. An online petition was created calling for Colburn to sell the team. Pundits debated whether or not the B2 league office should force him to.
Unsurprisingly, Colburn reiterated that he wasn’t breaking the rules, and stayed put.
With Raymond gone, assistant coach Eduardo Zaragoza took the helm. However, Raymond’s exit did nothing but increase the turmoil within the team. Players began to look out for themselves as the team’s play style became increasingly uncoordinated.
Meanwhile, they played a farce of a game in extra-bright lighting and a second home contest under a barrage of loud noises.
With one make-or-break game to decide whether they would make the postseason, Colburn prepared to deploy one last trump card.
“It’s Game 1 of the 2014 NBA Finals — the Heat-Spurs rematch,” Colburn tells me. The Spurs are playing at home, and the air conditioning goes out at the AT&T Center. They say temperatures reached over 90 degrees. LeBron James missed the end of the game with cramps. There was a big conspiracy, but it was almost definitely accidental.”
“And you wanted to turn off the A/C on purpose?”
“Well, yeah. Our guys would’ve been prepared for it.”
“Seriously?”
“Sure.”
Even after the fact, Colburn remains steadfast that the plan would have succeeded. In reality, we’ll never know. After practicing in extreme temperatures, A.J. Stevenson notified his personal friend and New York Empire guard Vincent Wofford of what Colburn was planning.
The Empire then contacted the league, who rejected the idea on grounds of it being a workplace health and safety violation to force players to compete in those temperatures.
When Colburn received word of this, he immediately went searching for who had leaked the information. Stevenson openly admitted to it, and the two had a fiery exchange. The next day, the Ospreys lost to the Empire, ending their season.
So, where does this leave us? That’s what I pondered as I sat in Colburn’s living room. He had just walked me through the season in his words, and would now be watching the end of it from his couch, knowing full well that he won’t be able to use the loophole moving forward.
“Have you thought about whether you want to remain the owner of the Ospreys?”
“Yeah, I have. And I haven’t made a decision yet. But I’m disappointed. Because I thought this league was supposed to be about experimentation. I mean, just look at some of the rules we added — custom three and four-point lines for each team, power plays — this stuff is great and brought such a cool new dynamic to the game.
But I try to innovate and do things that are completely legal, and everyone makes me out to be the bad guy.”
“That’s not really basketball, though, is it?”
“Says who? I love basketball. I want to see it played in new and interesting ways. This year, we did that. And it got people talking. Man, we were the best thing that ever happened to the B2. It’s a shame that the league wants to take that away. It should have been encouraged.”
“If this ends up being the end for you in the B2, what might be your next step? Would you start another company?”
“I don’t know. Maybe if I thought there was a good opportunity. But I don’t really think in terms of what I want my career to be. I just want to have fun. I spent so much time doing things because society told me I should be doing those things.
Even when I was at Sevaron, I was so focused on growing the company without really a thought of why, other than that just being what you do with a company. It’s really easy to get caught up in the whole game.
I don’t want to play that game. I want to be in charge of my actions and my goals.”
Tyson Colburn wants to be in charge. I have my thoughts about the man. I’m sure you do, too. But that one thing is for certain. He will pursue what interests him and what will allow him to make his own decisions.
As I leave his apartment, there’s only one more question to ask.
“You gonna get the air conditioning in here fixed soon?”
He laughs.
“One of these days.”
This is the second story in the Asher Raines “Future Basketball” trilogy, preceded by “An Overindulgence of Madness” and followed by “For All-Time’s Sake.” Links to all Asher Raines stories can be found below.
Asher Raines Stories
An Overindulgence of Madness
Taysom Hill Plays Other Sports
The Loophole Owner
Asher’s Radio Interview (a follow-up to The Loophole Owner)
For All-Time’s Sake
A Grand Goodbye
