News from the National Basketball Association recently lent some common sense to a league seemingly gone mad with high school draftees and exorbitant salaries for all comers.

I was particularly intrigued by the ruling which stated that drafted players who don’t hook up with the big club immediately can now be guaranteed a real shot at the National Basketball Development League.

NBA commissioner David Stern announced that plans are in the works to expand the number of NBDL teams to 15 – the league originally had eight – and players with less than two years of pro experience will automatically be eligible to join the development league.

Finally, a true minor league exists, one which will, hopefully, concentrate on putting players into the big show.

Toss into this mix the fact that NBDL clubs will each have two parent clubs to advise them. All this talk brought back memories of my days in the Continental Basketball Association.

Back then, CBA franchises each had two NBA parent clubs.

In Bangor, our Maine Lumberjacks franchise dealt primarily with then-General Manager Jerry Colangelo of the Phoenix Suns and Arnold “Red” Auerbach, head of basketball operations for the Boston Celtics.

Parent clubs are vital for the minor leagues’ success for they not only provide cash for players called up but they also provide input and advice.

My dealings with Mr. Colangelo were great. He was and is a true gentleman in all his dealings in professional basketball and professional baseball. Working with him and coaching to improve players we had, who someday might make the big club, were jobs I relished every time my feet hit the floor in the morning.

The Celtics were another matter entirely. Red Auerbach was a gentleman in every sense of the word. I did not, however, have that much good luck in my dealings with then-head coach Bill Fitch.

It was about this time of the year in 1981 that the late Jay Ramsdell, Jim Sleeper, and I made the journey to Hellenic College in Brookline, Mass., to watch the Celtics’ rookie camp.

Jay was our chief statistician, Jim was our assistant coach, and I was GM and head coach.

We had our eye on a couple of kids, most notably former University of Maine sharpshooter Rufus Harris.

For some reason that summer day, I was the only Lumberjack representative in the small gym watching Bill Fitch run line drills. It was hot, and everyone was sweating profusely.

Suddenly, Coach Fitch blew the whistle and gave the players a water break.

He then wandered over to where I was sitting on the sidelines. “You’ll have to leave,” he barked.

Now, I knew he wasn’t talking to the Boston Globe’s Bob Ryan, who was seated next to me. And I especially knew he wasn’t talking to Red Auerbach, who was seated next to Mr. Ryan.

“Didn’t you hear me, kid?”

I stood up. I heard that Bill could be a little caustic.

“Leave. This is a closed practice!”

What Bill didn’t know was that I had been invited by Red. Red’s secretary set the whole thing up.

We got that matter settled, then Fitch announced for all to hear, “Your league stinks. Name one player who could help us today.”

“Jackie Dorsey,” I said.

“Yeah, right.” He shook his head and walked off. Turning to me, he said, “You can stay.” Then shaking his head, he muttered, “the CBA, what a joke.”

Well, as luck would have it, early in the new season, Mr. Dorsey, he of the University of Georgia fame, was called up by Seattle and tossed in nine fourth-quarter points to help beat the C’s in Boston Garden.

The moral of the story?

Pick your poison, coach. Dorsey was legitimate and could’ve helped any NBA team that year. It just happened to be the Sonics at the time.

NEWS columnist Ron Brown, a retired high school basketball coach, can be reached at bdnsports@bangordailynews.net