Carl Scheer : Workaholic Finds Yet Another Team That Needs Him, Flat Tires and All

The executive meeting at owner Donald Sterling’s Beverly Hills penthouse office had lasted much longer than anticipated, which meant that Clipper General Manager Carl Scheer had missed another dinner engagement with his wife.

So, on the way to his Santa Monica home this particular night, Scheer stopped to pick up a pizza, a peace offering for his having worked late again. Preoccupied as usual with business matters as he drove into the parking lot, Scheer only vaguely noticed a sign above steel spikes that said: “Severe Tire Damage--Do Not Enter.”

He entered, and the damage was severe. All four tires on Scheer’s new Thunderbird were punctured, and now he wouldn’t even be able to bring the pizza home. When the tires stopped hissing, Scheer called home with a suggestion.

“Marsha,” he said to his wife, “How about meeting me here for pizza?”

Thus was born another in a long line of Carl Scheer stories. Over the years, there have been enough like that to fill an entire chapter in a good-sized book of life’s most embarrassing moments.

Once, during his 10-year reign as general manager of the Denver Nuggets, Scheer ate so much ice cream after a loss that his body temperature fell dangerously low, and he required medical assistance.

Then there was the time at Denver when Scheer got so wrapped up in a game that he became tangled in a curtain next to the court and couldn’t escape. And Clipper employees still chuckle about a day last summer that Scheer came to work wearing his shirt inside out.

“I think some of those stories have been embellished over the years by my friends,” said Scheer, turning as red as the tie he was wearing.

But those who know Scheer well, and delight in recalling his incidents of absent-mindedness, insist that those and other incidents are true.

Carl is just different , friends say. He is a man so intensely involved in his work that he pays little attention to his diet or appearance. He is so driven to succeed that he doesn’t watch out for road hazards or body-snatching curtains.

Scheer, 48, also is not the type who turns down challenges, even one as difficult as establishing the downtrodden Clippers in the highly competitive Los Angeles sports market. In fact, Scheer may be known most not for his eccentricities but for being a rescuer of struggling basketball franchises.

He did it in the early 1970s with the Carolina Cougars of the old American Basketball Assn., building a winning team and improving the attendance mark by 40% during his four-year tenure. He did it in Denver from 1974 to 1984, guiding the Nuggets through perilous financial straits and developing a competitive and popular team before being ousted in a front-office shake-up last spring.

The Clippers are Scheer’s latest and certainly most challenging reclamation project. Many friends advised him not to take the job. Sure, Scheer was out of a job, but he was considered one of the most shrewd executives in the NBA and something better would undoubtedly come along, they said.

The Clipper franchise had become widely known for ineptitude on and off the court, unpaid bills and a meddling owner who last spring moved the team to Los Angeles from San Diego without the NBA’s permission.

Marsha Scheer, who had eaten too many dinners alone over the years while her husband slaved 16 hours a day, begged Carl not to accept the job. But Scheer couldn’t help it. The lure of the challenge was too strong.

“I haven’t exorcised the demons of pro basketball yet,” Scheer told his wife at the time. Even now, after seven months in Los Angeles, the demons still rage inside Scheer’s slight but well conditioned body.

Although the Clippers have yet to improve their record on the court, some stability has come to what once was the most mixed-up NBA franchise west of Cleveland. Attendance is averaging only about 7,000 a game, but it’s well ahead of last season’s figures at San Diego, and Scheer has proved that another NBA team can survive in the same city with the Lakers.

Not that Scheer is satisfied. Most days, he still works at least 10 hours a day, sometimes 16. Long hours are a necessity to Scheer, who oversees almost every aspect of the club--player personnel, marketing, advertising and community relations.

When Scheer took over last July 17, there was no breaking-in period, no time for him to get used to new surroundings. Basically, Scheer and staff had fewer than four months to build a franchise from practically scratch.

“Some people didn’t think Carl could do it in such a short time,” said Bob King, who had been Scheer’s assistant general manager at Denver and had worked in the league office before rejoining Scheer as the Clippers’ vice president. “But he can go into any situation, no matter the city, and make it work--if he has the authority and the right people working for him.”

The situation isn’t as hectic for the Clippers now, but Scheer remains immersed in his work. He awakens at 5:30 every morning to run and is usually at work from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. When the Clippers play at home, Scheer can sometimes be found roaming the empty Sports Arena at midnight.

Those who have been close to Scheer just shrug when asked about his long working days, as if to say: “That’s Carl for you.”

A strong work ethic was ingrained into Scheer at an early age. Growing up in Springfield, Mass., Scheer first put his energy into playing basketball. He was an all-state guard and continued his career at a small college in Vermont. He later earned a law degree at the University of Miami.

But law wasn’t enough for Scheer. In a dizzying three-year span, Scheer was a basketball broadcaster at Miami and Guilford College in North Carolina, became a player agent, then became the assistant to then-NBA Commissioner Walter Kennedy.

Still not satisfied, Scheer left to become general manager of the NBA’s Buffalo Braves. He stayed for only four months before bolting to the Carolina Cougars. In 1974, after four years there, Scheer began his 10-year term at Denver, a time he calls the most productive 10 years of his life.

Not only did Scheer keep the financially struggling team afloat, he was a major force behind the 1976 NBA-ABA merger. That same season, it was Scheer who had the idea for a slam-dunk contest, which is now a feature at All-Star games.

Indeed, it seems only fitting that Scheer was born in Springfield, the birthplace of basketball. Scheer seems obsessed by the game.

“Most of my life has been dedicated to basketball, much to the detriment of my family life and my health,” Scheer said. “I’m ashamed to say that, in the past, my job was No. 1. Now, I’ve learned that my family is No. 1. I’ve finally figured out the priorities.”

But when Scheer accepted the Clipper job, he left Marsha and his two college-age children, Bob and Lauren, in Denver. Marsha, who said she felt the family’s roots were in Denver, didn’t want to leave, and the children didn’t want to change schools.

“I used to tell Carl, ‘Get out of this crazy business--it’s going to kill you,’ ” Marsha Scheer said. “I asked him not to take the Clippers’ job, but I knew he loved it. And I realized that no matter what profession Carl would get into, he’d act the same way. It’s unfortunate that the family has had to suffer. Carl has made up a lot of that time. Now, he’s developed a beautiful relationship with our kids.”

Scheer commuted to Denver on weekends last summer, and Marsha has been in Los Angeles for the last two months on an extended visit. So, basically, they see each other as much as when Carl was at Denver, if not more.

During his time in Denver, Scheer was working almost constantly.

“I don’t consider myself high strung,” Scheer said. “I consider myself as someone who always has to be involved in his work, stimulated and challenged. My first four years in Denver were especially tough on Marsha and the kids. I must have given up 20 years of my life in those four years. Every waking moment was consumed with the Denver Nuggets.”

Said Marsha: “He feels guilty about those years, but we got through them. I don’t know if you can get away with being a Carl Scheer in today’s marriages.”

After working all day at the office--taking only a two-hour lunch break to run with then-Nugget Coach Larry Brown--Scheer would spend his nights at charitable or civic functions. He visited the Lions Club, the Elks Club, Rotary Club, Daughters of the American Revolution--everywhere except supermarket openings.

It paid off, too. Not only did the Nuggets become established and immensely popular in Denver, but Scheer was also once voted one of the 10-most popular and influential men in the city.

Said Scheer: “It takes a special kind of person to work for a sports franchise and a special kind of person to work for me. You need dedicated people. Some people will say my priorities are confused, but you can’t do what you want unless you are committed to it.”

Carl Scheer is committed. His mind is always working, always coming up with ways to market his team or with personnel moves to help the team. In the process, though, Scheer often forgets such insignificant things as making sure his clothes match or that he is driving with, not against, the flow of traffic.

“Carl is the worst driver in the world,” Denver Coach Doug Moe said. “They should take away his license. I’ve been with him when he’s gone the wrong way on one-way streets, driven up on sidewalks. It’s scary.”

Donnie Walsh, a former Denver coach and now an assistant with the Indiana Pacers, suggested that the Clippers hire a chauffeur to drive Scheer around town. Brown agreed.

“One day, we’re on the busiest streets in Denver, and Carl is going the wrong way,” Brown said. “You’ve heard the commercial where you’re supposed to watch out for the other guy. Carl is the other guy.”

Marsha Scheer jokingly says she has jumped out of the car several times when Carl was driving. She says he runs into problems even when it’s not his fault.

“One time in Denver, they had done some underground construction work on our street, but the road looked drivable,” she said. “So, Carl is pulling out of the driveway, and all of a sudden the car has fallen in a giant hole. All you can see is the car top. Carl gets out and is bleeding. He looks at me kind of funny and says he’s going to go run.”

Running has been Scheer’s main outlet. He began running with Brown in Denver after they tired of playing racquetball. Besides, when you’re running, you can discuss business along the way.

Since Scheer does almost nothing in moderation, he and Brown decided to train for the Chicago marathon. Running together, they completed that marathon in 4 hours 7 minutes. Scheer’s best marathon time is 3:50.

During that time, Scheer and Brown, a pair since their days together with the Carolina Cougars, became as close as brothers. They spent every day together at the office, then talked on the phone at night.

For four seasons, Brown and Scheer put together championship caliber teams that failed in the playoffs each year. Then, before the 1978-79 season, the relationship cooled when Brown wanted to trade Bobby Jones to Philadelphia for George McGinnis. Scheer grudgingly approved the deal, and it turned out to be a very poor trade.

A few months later, Brown quit, or was fired, depending on whose side of the story you believe. At any rate, Brown and Scheer didn’t talk for several months. Now, they are casual friends.

“It was a major emotional experience, with scars that will never go away,” Scheer said. “Marsha says it was like a divorce. It was more emotional for me than last year when the change was made in Denver and I was out.”

Said Brown: “People say Carl and I were too close. But I don’t think that was the problem. I think we just built up too many expectations and then didn’t fulfill them all. We used to make a lot of big plans while running.”

One thing running did was lower Scheer’s heart rate and make him more fit. Still, during basketball games, Scheer gets so involved that his heart rate and blood pressure soar.

At the start of most Clipper games, he sits stoically at his courtside seat, legs crossed and arms folded. After awhile, though, he starts squirming. Soon, he is waving his arms. By the fourth quarter, he leaves his seat and paces in a corridor.

That behavior is tame, though, compared to the way Scheer used to behave at Cougar and Nugget games. In Denver, Scheer stood at the south exit of the arena next to the bleachers. When a call was made that he didn’t like, he pounded his fist against the railing. Eventually, the Nuggets installed foam padding on the railing so that Scheer wouldn’t break his hand.

The most famous story from his Denver days, though, concerns the time he wrapped himself in the curtain. Scheer was standing at his usual spot during a game and was tugging on a curtain dividing the exit from the court at McNichols Arena. Irked by a call, Scheer turned his back and then whirled back again. He found himself caught in the clutches of a velvet monster.

“He was completely wrapped in it,” said Sharon Laidman, the Clippers’ vice president of operations who had worked worked with Scheer for six years. Laughing at the memory, she added: “All you could see were these two little eyes peering out.”

There is a more serious side, though, to Scheer’s intensity.

Scheer says he has trouble sleeping nights because he is constantly thinking about work. Marsha has tried everything from limiting the caffeine in his diet to making him listen to relaxation tapes. Even sleeping pills don’t help much.

“I’m just a high-energy person,” Scheer said. “I don’t sleep well. Like last night, I watched all the basketball games on ESPN and then a rerun of another game I’d watched earlier. I finally went to sleep about 1 a.m. and woke up at 5 to run.

“But I can get by with less sleep than most people. Even when I’m exhausted, I can’t sleep without the pill. I’ve never been a napper, so I don’t make up for it in the afternoon.”

Said Marsha: “He’s become an insomniac, and that’s sad. Stress has caused it. Going to movies is his big release. But sometimes, I’d look over at him and he’d be asleep at the theater. I’d let him sleep because he needed it.”

There have been nights after losses, Scheer said, when he has walked the streets until dawn, or simply stared at the ceiling for hours. Scheer takes losses hard .

After a Clipper loss in Cleveland earlier this season, Scheer lurked in a hallway, staring at the floor, looking morose. But after victories, he backslaps and is almost giddy.

“You get used to those mood swings,” Moe said. “I used to worry about him until you realize that’s just the way he is.”

Said Brown: “I like that in Carl. It shows that he cares. He lives and dies with the team. The only time I ever worried was after we lost in the playoffs one year. He tripped in the locker room and went head-first into an ice bucket. He must’ve kept his head submerged for 30 seconds. He finally had to be fished out.”

Scheer doesn’t like that side of his personality. “But to be honest, I used to be a lot worse,” he said. “In Carolina one time, we lost a game we should have won, and I went back to my office and tore it up.”

Marsha also made him give up his quart-a-day ice cream habit. After every Denver loss, Scheer’s daughter would leave a spoon and a note by the freezer that read something like: “Dad, I got you some chocolate-chocolate chip. Enjoy.”

“I’d walk home from the arena, sit in a darkened room and eat ice cream,” Scheer said. “One time, I ate it so fast, I started to shiver because I was so cold.”

If it wasn’t ice cream, though, it was something else. For a while, Scheer would eat five family-size Hershey bars in a sitting. There was also a Chunkies period. Laidman would walk into Scheer’s office in Denver and find Chunkies wrappers all over the floor. Lately, Scheer has been hooked on corn muffins.

Corn muffins?

“I woke up this morning and I found muffin crumbs all over the couch,” Marsha said. “(But) I think Carl has become more health conscious now.”

Although his clothes hang on his 6-foot 1-inch, 165-pound frame, Scheer is concerned about his weight. He eats salads for lunch and is always investigating new diets.

Another of Scheer’s eccentricities is an inability to listen to games on the radio. He gets too nervous. In Denver, Marsha made him stand outside in the cold, and she would periodically relay the score.

Eventually, the neighbors began talking, so Marsha simply wouldn’t allow a radio in the house. Instead, Carl had Nugget public relations director Tom Hohensee call him with the score and final statistics. Now, that’s the task of Clipper PR director Scott Carmichael.

“Occasionally, I’d call, and he’d get so mad at the results, he’d slam the receiver down and hang up,” Hohensee said. “I was worried about Carl.”

There really is no need to worry about Scheer now. He’s doing what he likes best and is enjoying it immensely. Sure, the Clippers are floundering on the court and haven’t been turning fans away at the box office, but Scheer relishes trying to change that.

His one-year contract with the Clippers will run out at the end of the season, but Scheer says he wants to stay in Los Angeles until he builds the Clippers into a winner. He may need a long-term contract to do that.

“If Carl stays long enough, he might even learn how to drive on the freeways here,” Marsha Scheer said.