From the Inside Looking Out

This article is from today's SF Chronicle:




NBA referee Delaney spent years infiltrating the Mafia

Bob Delaney never lets himself off the hook. In his recent book about the nearly three years he spent infiltrating the New Jersey underworld in the 1970s, he explained how he goofed by not letting his state police superiors know about a trip he and an undercover colleague made to Florida to meet with the Bruno crime family.

Sitting in a car with unfamiliar mobsters, he realized the mistake. "We could be whacked, and nobody in the chain of command would have any idea what happened."

Years later, in his life as an NBA referee, he mistakenly called a foul against San Antonio on a three-point shot by Minnesota's Chuck Person that tied a game at the buzzer. Person hit the free-throw try, and the game was over.

"The key was that I 'thought' I saw contact, as opposed to actually seeing it," he wrote.

Refs term that type of call a "gamer" because it affects the outcome of the game. When you blow a gamer, Delaney said, "there's no worse feeling in the world."

Sitting in a hotel coffee shop near Arco Arena, Delaney was asked about another gamer this season. He called an offensive foul on Monta Ellis on an inbounds play with four seconds left, depriving the Warriors of a chance to tie or beat the Lakers on March 24. Derek Fisher lost his footing and grabbed Ellis as he fell backward to the floor.

This time, Delaney took the fifth. "Unfortunately, I can't talk about it," he said. "You'll have to call the NBA office. There's protocol and rules."

Eventually, the NBA confirmed to the Warriors it was a bad call, but the Lakers' 123-119 win still stood.

Delaney, 58, who has been an official in the NBA for 21 years, very likely felt remorse over the call. That was by no means the worst decision an NBA ref has made in recent years. Tim Donaghy was alleged to have bet on games and made calls affecting point spreads before his firing last year. Delaney says he was furious with Donaghy.

"I've lived through police-corruption cases," he said. "I know the feeling of being painted with the same brush."

His emotions haven't always been so easy to predict. Like the guilt he experienced for his undercover work in a groundbreaking state police-FBI operation known as Project Alpha that led to the arrests of 35 organized-crime figures. The operation lasted so long that he got close to many of the men he would help send away.

His experience as head of a trucking company that was working with three competing crime families makes for engrossing reading in the book, "Covert: My Years Infiltrating the Mob" (Sterling Publishing), which he co-wrote with St. Petersburg Times sportswriter Dave Scheiber.

Covert is not only a generic description of his work; mystifyingly, it was also his alias - Bobby Covert. Evidently, "Bobby Snitch" wasn't available.

Delaney explained that "covert" wasn't part of the lexicon for either cops or crooks at that time. A state police supervisor found the name in a search for a person of roughly Delaney's age who had died young - in case the wise guys checked on him by going through birth records.

The book depicted harrowing moments for Covert and his cohort, Pat Kelly, a consigliere to the DiNorscio family who became an informant under the threat of a stiff prison sentence, as they did business with three Mob families. They spread their favors carefully to avoid favoring one over the others, thereby risking reprisals.

The gangsters adopted some of the mannerisms, like kissing each other on cheek, they had seen in "The Godfather" movies, which were highly popular with the Mob, Delaney said.

As Covert, Delaney trod some of the same shaky turf that the FBI's Joe Pistone traveled during his six-year stint as an undercover operative named Donnie Brasco (later played by Johnny Depp in a movie of the same name). Years later, Delaney and Pistone became good friends. Delaney credits Pistone for helping him out of the emotional morass that beset him for years after his undercover days.

In officiating, Delaney found a balm for his emotional wounds. Long after he had established himself in the NBA, however, he experienced health problems related to his undercover work. Two years ago, his doctor diagnosed a gland problem and attributed it to post-traumatic stress syndrome.

Having to play the role of underworld entrepreneur without respite, knowing one slip could mean a bullet in his head, tied his psyche and body in knots. The stress persisted even after Project Alpha ended, justice was served, and Delaney testified - behind a large screen to hide his identity from the public - before a Senate hearing on organized crime.

"The problem was I wouldn't share it with anybody," he said. "I wouldn't even share it with another undercover operative. I wouldn't share it with other cops when I first surfaced. I didn't want to look like I was afraid. I was good at masking it on the outside, but internally it was taking a toll."

He finally got the problem under control. NBA players and coaches all know his story. The Warriors' Al Harrington routinely calls him Bobby Covert.

Shaquille O'Neal, who has taken part in police work during offseasons, delayed the start of a game several years ago for a quick chat. He told Delaney he knew he was a friend of FBI director Louis Freeh from working on the Senate hearing. "Tell him I want a job with the FBI," Shaq said.

Said Delaney: "Yeah, you'd be great working on surveillance. Nobody'd ever recognize you."

E-mail Tom FitzGerald at tfitzgerald@sfchronicle.com.