The World by the Balls? Inside the Life of a 23-Year-Old Team Owner

It's four hours before the home opener of the Brooklyn SkyRockets, a fledgling team in the American Basketball Association. The new ABA is a semi-pro heir to the glorious 1970s league made famous by Dr. J., Marvin "Bad News" Barnes, Rick Barry, and the immortal Zelmo Beaty. But the new owner of the SkyRockets has another game on his mind.

"I never thought I'd be a guy who cared about his school, but I loved my time at SUNY Cortland," says Dylan Gioia. "Today is our big rivalry game against Ithaca, it's known as Cortaca, and I wish I was there." (And that was before the astounding way the Red Dragons kept the Jug.)

If it seems odd that the owner of a professional sports franchise is pining to be at a D-III football contest played over a jug in frigid central New York—especially when his new team is making its debut at 8 p.m. in front of his friends and family—well, cut Gioia some slack. He's understandably anxious. Besides, his time at SUNY Cortland is still fresh on his mind. Gioia only graduated in 2012.

James Dolan and Mikhail Prokhorov didn't own their teams at 23. Slackers.

We're sitting upstairs in the bar at Aviator Sports, an enormous venue with two skating rinks, gymnastics, indoor soccer, a rock climbing wall, an arcade, a brick-oven pizzeria, and a basketball court, all housed inside former airplane hangars at Floyd Bennett Field. The complex, located near the shores of Jamaica Bay in South Brooklyn, is packed with parents and kids, the very people Gioia is hoping to reach with his low-price family entertainment option.

"My competition isn't pro, or even college ball, it's bowling alleys and movie theaters. It's $50 to see the Nets, the SkyRockets [cost] $15, so it's affordable, but this is New York City with so many things going on," says Gioia. "This is an amazing place, but it's not easily accessible by subway… Can we get people to show up? I knew when I bought a team I wouldn't make much money off of it, but there will be money involved. How it's all going to work out keeps me up at night."

If owning a team at such a young age sounds like the stuff of generic sports comedies-Eddie meets Little Big League meets Semi-Pro!-it's really not. After graduating with a degree in sports management, Gioia decided he didn't have enough practical sports experience, so he started looking for a foot in the door. He contacted Onez Onassis, a record producer who had started up the Brooklyn Blackout, an ABA franchise that was supposed to play its games at Aviator. Hoping to help take tickets, answer emails, sweep the floor, or whatever, Gioia was instantly made director of basketball operations. However, Onassis had cashflow problems and the Blackout folded after a single pre-season game.

Gioia didn't get a chance to do much, but he did make contacts, like new ABA co-founder and CEO Joe Newman. He talked to him about starting up another team and, within days, it came together.

"The vetting process isn't much," he says with a laugh. "The ABA gave me a team."

Although he's a fan, loves the Knicks and the Jets, Gioia says he didn't grow up in a sports family, was never a big jock, and didn't live and breathe games like the type of diehard who will wait on WFAN hold for an hour to kvetch with Steve Somers. He isn't "Dylan from Marine Park," he's simply a guy who took a practical approach to furthering his career, the one he studied in college. As his mother Linda says of her son owning the team, "My son is very capable, so this isn't a surprise to me. If he went to law school, would it be strange that he works in a law firm?"

For Gioia, it was an achievable goal because it's a low-cost deal. Franchises cost $10,000 apiece with $2,500 down, and the rest is paid back on an interest-free loan schedule. Cortland's a state school, so he had no debt, and his grandfather kicked in to help him with the up-front money.

The low barrier to entry makes the league, according to its rudimentary website, the "most diversified sports league ever with over 75% of its teams owned by African-Americans, Hispanics, Asians, and Women." The ABA aims to not have its owners siphoning funds to play a shell game, robbing Peter to pay Chris Paul, so if the conditions are right, the potential for financial success is there. Ticket and merchandise sales plus local sponsorships can provide a steady revenue stream. The Shreveport-Bossier Mavericks are an ABA juggernaut that offer $10,000 sponsorship packages, sell $400 courtside season tickets, and drew 1,100 and 1,400 fans for their first two home games. It helps that the Mavericks have won 63 games in a row.

Conversely, operating costs can be as bare bones as an owner can get. Players on the SkyRockets make $50 per practice and game, generally $200 a week. Gioia said some owners don't pay their players at all, but he didn't want to go that route because then "I'm working with volunteers, so there's no accountability and players will show up when they want." Venue fees are all over the map, but it's a safe bet that at $1,200 a game to Aviator Sports, Gioia is paying more than the squads running in church basements and public schools. It's a gamble, but it's part of his overall marketing scheme.

"I love Coney Island, that's where I wanted to play. I would've called the team the Mermaids or Neptunes, but there's no viable place to hold games," says Gioia. "I decided to honor the history of Floyd Bennett by naming the team after the Bellanca Skyrocket, but most of my friends think it has something to do with Will Ferrell."

Coming up with a quality moniker was one of the many things the young owner had to handle. That morning alone, Gioia picked up jerseys with newly embroidered ABA patches, directed the set-up of the benches, hung banners, and went to BJ's for bottled water, powdered Gatorade, and, yes, two bags of oranges.

"I'm also the SkyRockets' official soccer mom," Gioia says in between texts with his boys back at SUNY Cortland.

It's still two hours until tip-off, but Brian Keenan's been in the building for a while. At 34, he's the oldest SkyRocket, and the only one who showed up in a suit and tie. A Breezy Point kid, Keenan played high school ball for his father Tom at Canisius High in Buffalo where he was the school's all-time leading scorer, and led the Crusaders to a 120-16 record with three Catholic league titles before going to play for some dreary University of Buffalo squads. Tonight, he is as amped up as he's been in a decade.

"I was up way too early, I had to get out of the house. I haven't played in a really big game since 2003," says Keenan. "In Buffalo, I was under the microscope from the age of 14, and then in college with all that losing, I felt like there was something wrong with me and the only thing that took away that feeling was drinking… In rehab, I'd be up at crack of dawn to make the coffee and one morning I started shooting free throws. I found myself again on the court, I found the 18-year-old kid who doesn't drink, who loves basketball. So good to be out here."

Keenan said his boozing escalated after the deaths from cancer of his father in 2003, and his sister in 2005, until he finally quit on Christmas Day, 2010. He started playing in corporate leagues, heard about the Blackouts, and began getting himself in game shape in part by shooting 250 jumpers a night. If his Irish Catholic hoop saga rings familiar, well, Keenan has played in many of the same South Brooklyn gyms as Chris Mullin. And just like the Hall-of-Fame St. John's and Golden State star, Keenan was going to get paid to play basketball, even if it was just $50 a night.

Gioia is fond of saying the ABA is made up of first chance/last chance players, but Keenan doesn't see himself in the latter category. "Ten years is a long time, but I've been putting in the work and I think I could play for three more years," he says. "This is not the end, my goal is to play overseas."

The rest of the players make their way to the locker room to get dressed for an informal shoot-around. Most of the guys are loose, but there is palpable excitement in the air because ESPN 3 is covering the game. For some of the players, it's the most exposure they've had in years. At 22, Deylon Bell is one of the youngest SkyRockets. He spent a couple of years at Genesee Community College where the team reached the National Junior College Athletic Association Division III Final Four, but he hasn't had that sort of a showcase since.

"It's crazy, but it's such a good feeling to know people will be watching me with the ESPN logo at the bottom of the screen," Bell says. "I'm nervous, but that's before any game because I love basketball so much. The day I'm not nervous and just out there to look cool? That'll be the day I quit."

Being seen is a big part of why guys play for the SkyRockets. For the players, the ABA is ideally the stepping stone to the next level ("overseas" is the mantra) to allow them to continue on a basketball path. As Christopher Samuels, 27, who spent years overseas in the Navy puts it, "If your dreams don't scare you, they're not big enough."

For Gioia, being seen is much more prosaic, it's literal eyeballs. He needs to sell roughly 400 tickets per game to cover his nut. Tonight, he's hoping for at least 500, which is not a huge number of people in a borough of 2.6 million, but is vital to the bottom line. So far, the SkyRockets only have two sponsors, the Bodhi Salon, and something called Chill Shot, a relaxation aid "backed by scientific research." And yet, Gioia has done a lot with his tiny marketing budget.

The SkyRockets opener has more in common with an NBA game than with an elementary school CYO league. There's ESPN 3 of course, but also two guys calling the game for a Bballaddicts.com radio stream, an ABA/SkyRockets backdrop for photos, an enthusiastic young courtside announcer who came all the way from the Bronx, a wristband system for those who want to watch from the "skybox" bar, and later, girls throwing tee-shirts into the bleachers just like at Madison Square Garden (only five rows deep, but still).

NBA trappings, but this is still semi-pro basketball, so everyone has to pitch in where they can. As some players warm-up, others help inflate a batch of the ABA's iconic red, white, and blue basketballs. Head coach Shawn Thomas scours for duct tape to get the Chill Shot signage up. Two guys get into a heated debate over the right number of powdered Gatorade scoops for the jug, while Gioia (now dressed in his game khakis and button-up) bounds around trying to make sure everything is in place.

"Two hours to go, pressure's on. At least our whole team is here, but my statistician is stuck on the Belt Parkway—I have to go teach my sister to use the iPad to take credit cards, that's where I was heading…"

A growing crowd is ready for some SkyRockets basketball. Many of them, wristbands on, are getting oiled at the upstairs bar.

But there's a problem: The Steel City Yellow Jackets haven't shown up yet.

The Yellow Jackets enter Aviator with their shoes laced up, ready to go. Turns out they changed on the way to Brooklyn. They get two minutes to stretch before tip-off.

It happens so abruptly that all the SkyRockets have time for is a quick prayer. Afterwards, they bring it in for a "1-2-3, Together! 4-5-6 We're All We Got!"

"You didn't get to hear me give a pre-game talk, that's just sad," says coach Thomas, chuckling at the absurdity as his team takes the floor. His counterpart, Averill "Ace" Pippens, brings the Yellow Jackets in for a quick huddle. The players all bend down because in true diverse ABA fashion, coach Ace has been wheelchair-bound since 1994 when he was shot by a home intruder.

Up in the bar, Gioia and the Steel City owner/rapper/record producer Antjuan Washington do a much-needed shot together. While down on the sidelines, all of Gioia's rowdy friends are breaking out their best material early, including a "SKYYYYYYRockets in Flight!" chant with a "Woo!" kicker that would make Anchorman's Champ Kind proud.

"The pre-game announcement I made about no profanity was directed at my brother and my best friend," Gioia says.

The players receive a bonus for bringing in fans, so the crowd is decent, if not overwhelming. Samuels, the Navy vet, claimed he would have 50-70 people coming between his church and his job at Niketown, but it appears that Keenan has the most drawing power. There's a fair number of people out to see him, many watching with Bud bottles in hand, but there's nowhere near the "thousand fans" number that had been thrown out by Gioia earlier. Still, man-in-the-know, Kevin the bartender, thought it was a great start.

"If the team always has a local kid and can put points on the board, fans will come. It's a tight-knit community down here, especially after [Hurricane] Sandy."

The crowd keeps the energy up, even as the SkyRockets play from behind.The Yellow Jackets are also an expansion team, but they're well-constructed and seemed to be on the same page. Steel City was ranked in the ABA's preseason top 20 and would end last week at fifth (out of…a fungible number of franchises). On this night, Pittsburgh is clearly the superior squad. Multiple players noted that the SkyRockets are younger than a typical ABA team and their strengths are speed and athleticism. Unfortunately for the home team, the Yellow Jackets were thicker and stronger, particularly in the paint and on the boards.

Barely three minutes in, there is already on-court sniping going on between SkyRockets teammates. Earlier, Keenan had mentioned "immaturity" issues from "guys in their late twenties who should know better." Samuels echoed the sentiment adding, "When I was in the Navy we played against men, Australians who were just ripped, so you had to be ready to go. I'm a quiet guy, try to only speak up when I have a solution because it's so unproductive to complain about a play that already happened."

While there's truth to the SkyRockets self-diagnosed maturity problem, it's also worth remembering they've only been together for a month, give or take, and it takes time and effort for basketball teams to gel. A lot of the on-court consternation was in service of trying to play smart team basketball, especially on defense. The SkyRockets may have had miscues on switching or guarding the pick-and-roll, but it wasn't because they didn't care. They just don't know each other. Same thing on offense, where there were spacing issues, but very little "I'm getting mine" show-offy And1 stuff. Selfishness wasn't a problem, particularly when the SkyRockets executed a beautiful backdoor pick play that led to a rousing alley-oop.

This is coach Thomas's first time running a team and he too is feeling his way through the early season. He says he wants this "beautiful situation" to be a democracy where players are free to throw out ideas, suggestions, and advice. However, his rotations veered too far into "everyone gets playing time" territory, and after halftime, a too-many cooks scenario found nearly every player, Samuels included, rehashing plays from the first two quarters. There is little dissension, a lot of conversation, and not much in the way of adjustments or a game plan. The excoriation to "Do your work early!" is repeated as halftime ends.

Only one of the oranges Gioia picked up gets eaten.

At the beginning of the third quarter, Gioia finally sits down to watch his team play. The first half had been a mix of glad-handing and putting out fires, including finding lodging for the Yellow Jackets (the home team's responsibility) because the house he'd lined up fell through. He gets into the action right away, good-naturedly shouting at the refs, the technician running the clock, and of course his guys on the floor.

"Coach, tell them to run something, to move around! There's no screens. Where's the motion?" Gioia yells out before turning and saying, "For a moment there, I forgot I told you I wasn't going to act like Mark Cuban… I need to see what my ball boys are up to, it's their first time. They're my little cousins but I've only met them a couple of times. Extended family turns out for something as big as this."

Gioia sits down on the floor, between the benches, joking with his ball boys, explaining their importance to the SkyRockets, and for a few minutes it looks like he's having the time of his life. Behold the young dude who's got the world by the balls, the owner of a professional basketball team taking in his first ever home opener, in front of his friends and family, in the South Brooklyn area he was raised in, inside a retrofitted airplane hangar that once housed legends like Wiley Post who in 1933 became the first aviator to fly solo around the world, piloting the "Winnie Mae" for 7 days, 8 hours, and 49 minutes, landing at Floyd Bennett Field, these same hallowed grounds where the SkyRockets are scratching and clawing their way back against the Yellow Jackets.

With five minutes left to play in the fourth quarter, the SkyRockets trim the deficit to eight. After a sloppy start, Keenan has settled in, running an effective point and knocking down a couple of threes. Deylon Bovell, quick relentless attacker with a smooth stroke, has begun to assert himself in the second half and nearly carries the team all the way back. He'll finish with 28, but the SkyRockets will fall 128-113.

The SkyRockets didn't look hapless, and as the game wound down, Gioia wasn't hopeless, not by a long shot. "Overall, I'm pretty happy with how the night went," he says. "Of course, I wish we would have won, but I think most people had a good time. I'm concerned about the fifth or sixth game when the newness has worn off. Will we get fans to stick with us throughout the season? Will we need wins to bring in new fans? We'll see."

There's talent, but by weekend's end a bigger question has asserted itself, is there time?

On a freezing cold night three days after the game, some-but not all-of the SkyRockets show up for practice in a Fort Greene elementary school. Practice was supposed to start 15 minutes ago, but nobody is on the court yet. They're all huddled around Gioia who is sitting on a plastic chair in sweats and work boots holding a backpack. It contains all the money he has in his bank account until payday that Friday.

"I can pay you what I have right now and I promise you will get what's owed to you within a couple of weeks," Gioia tells the team.

All of the excitement and promise of opening night has evaporated into the Brooklyn ether. Gioia has gone from giddy with anticipation to defeated in 72 hours, the unfortunate reality of semi-pro ownership. "It's been an extremely fast peak and valley," he says out in the hallway. "I need to find a partner or have someone buy me out."

There's a reason ABA teams come-and-go with such regularity. It's a tough sell, especially when the next game comes less than 24 hours after the opener.

"If Saturday went as well as it could have, Sunday was the exact opposite," he says. "The team played better, we only lost by five, but who's going to go to a game at five o'clock on a Sunday? I didn't want them even playing the next day… It was brutal."

Prior to the season, ESPN let it be known that if an ABA team wanted their games covered, they had to hold them on both Saturday and Sunday. In an effort to save money, Gioia rescheduled a later game with the Yellow Jackets so they would play back-to-back. ESPN decided to ditch the Sunday broadcasts, but by then, Gioia had paid Aviator $1,200 for the court fee and nobody showed up to help him recoup his outlay.

On top of that, Gioia had put the Yellow Jackets lodging on his credit card. Washington knew of a cheap hotel in New Jersey… Atlantic City, New Jersey. When the game started, only one of the cars bringing the team to Aviator had arrived, so the Yellow Jackets played with five guys, just like pick-up ball. The bathrooms in the hotel were broken, it was full of roaches, and the staff pounded on the doors early in the morning to get people out. Gioia was disputing the charge with his credit card company, but it was $500 he didn't have to work with right now.

The early days of minor league ownership can be precarious. The catch-22 is that teams need sponsorship money for working capital to build a fanbase, but sponsors are reluctant to come on board until a team has said fanbase. Add in all of the entertainment options in New York City, and… well, a team can only debut once. The thrill was gone for Gioia the next day. After Sunday's poor turnout, he ran the numbers, and realized he was already down $15,000. The season runs until March and he estimated he could lose two or three times that amount over a full season. He has a 9-to-5 at Iroquois Job Corps, an educational and career training program run by the Department of Labor. It provides a decent entry-level salary, but it's government work and doesn't have Gioia flush with Steve Ballmer cash. He was pouring everything he has into the SkyRockets and rapidly dropping into the red. Something needed to change by week's end.

"It's been tough because this is my team and I want it to succeed. I'm the guy in the Daily News and I don't want to be the 23-year-old whiz kid who went down in flames," Gioia says. "If I had someone paying me to run the SkyRockets, I know I could make it work. I know I could make someone else money."

Meanwhile, in the gym, the eight SkyRockets who showed up ready for practice are going all out in high-energy three-on-three games, even as the team's future was up in the air.

"I'm surprised and impressed that nobody stormed out of here," says Gioia. "There's nothing I want more than to keep these guys on the court."

Nine days after opening night, Gioia has heard secondhand that some 15 ABA teams have already folded. But as of now, the SkyRockets aren't one of them.

Antjuan Washington wants to help keep the team afloat, so the Steel City owner will now have a piece of Brooklyn. How much has yet to be determined, but to the doubleheader victors go the spoils. There are also plans afoot for the SkyRockets to leave Aviator for the Stuy Dome, a smaller facility in Bed-Stuy that's accessible by subway and bus, in a neighborhood filled with families, hipsters, and bars that accommodate both-and might get down with making a reborn ABA squad a thing.

There's also been talk of merging with the struggling Staten Island Vipers (although their owners aren't quite all the way on board), and in classic minor league fashion, of having Gioia help out with the Syracuse franchise whose owners paid in full a few years ago, but have yet to play a single game. Gioia knows the area, seeing as it's home to the Cortaca Jug. But Brooklyn remains his primary focus. Such is the life in semi-pro basketball.

"Right now, I'm a six or seven out of 10 on the optimism scale. Ask me again in a few days, and I might be at the breaking point," Gioia says.

The SkyRockets canceled a home game on the twenty-ninth against the Jersey Express out of Newark, but they played a road game against Philly in Camden. They lost, but Gioia is protesting the outcome due to faulty operations and a substandard venue. The SkyRockets' next home game will be at the Stuy Dome against the North Carolina Coyotes on December 13, but the roster may not look the same. The players will now officially be balling to be seen. There will be no more pay. "I'm telling the guys they still have the opportunity to play and be noticed in a high-level league, which is better than paying to be in a league with no notoriety," Gioia says. "I assume I'll have a few walk-outs, but that's the business we're in."

Bottom line is, as of the first week of December, the SkyRockets remain in flight. Woo.