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Introduction

I’m guilty.

For 13 years I was a referee in the National Basketball Association, living a glamorous life on and off the court, rubbing elbows with superstar players and celebrity A-listers. I suppose many would say that I had it all—a great job, money, a wonderful family—but it was all an illusion.

You see, during my last four years in the NBA, I led a secret life that would ultimately cost me everything: my integrity, my reputation, my career, my livelihood, my marriage, my family, and my freedom. During those four years, I placed illegal bets on more than 100 NBA games, many of which I officiated as one of three referees on the court. My dalliance with sports betting started innocently enough, but it quickly became an obsession and addiction, one that would consume my life and destroy everything I once cherished.

For 13 years I lived the dream and experienced a thrill ride on the court alongside the best players in the world. As an NBA referee, I had a front-row seat to the greatest show on earth. I was a courtside witness to the greatness of Michael Jordan, Kobe Bryant, LeBron James, and Shaquille O’Neal. I casually mingled with Hollywood icons like Jack Nicholson and Spike Lee. I traveled around the country 26 days a month, made more than $250,000 per year, and distinguished myself on the court as a high-quality referee with a bright future in the league.

Along the way I married a great woman, had four beautiful daughters, and earned the respect of my father. For me, life was more than good; it was overwhelmingly great! But somewhere in my subconscious, there was an insatiable need for more action and more thrills, along with a dangerous impulse toward risky behavior. That unyielding need was satisfied, or so I thought, when I embarked on a dark affair with the seedy world of illegal gambling. It all started innocently enough, but my flirtation turned into an addiction, one that could never be satisfied and one I didn’t want to stop. I became an out-of-control juggernaut hell-bent on self-destruction. My days and nights were consumed with thoughts of finding some action, placing a bet, and risking it all.

My road to ruin was punctuated by a shameful relationship with underworld figures who would stop at nothing to squeeze every ounce of dignity out of my soul. It didn’t really matter. My soul had turned into a void as I placed my fixation on gambling above everything that was important in my life—my career, my family, and my freedom.

My involvement with illegal betting was more than a crime; it was a betrayal of the profession to which I had devoted my entire adult life. During this dark period, I associated with sleazy bookies and reputed mob figures, slowly becoming someone my family and friends no longer recognized. I passed inside information to wiseguys who were making millions of dollars on my picks and lining the pockets of Mafia heavyweights.

When the bubble finally burst, I was actually relieved to get out from under the threats and pressure brought to bear by my underworld coconspirators. And I made a choice that would both set me free and put me behind bars—I decided to confess my crimes and set the record straight.

They say a man’s character is defined by the choices he makes in life. Of course, a man’s character is also revealed by his willingness to accept responsibility for his actions, learn from his mistakes, and move forward in a positive, healthy, and honest way.

The mistakes I made were tremendous and life-changing, but I was determined not to let them define my character. Over the objections of my lawyer, I sat down with an assistant U.S. attorney and several FBI agents and confessed. As my addiction to gambling spun out of control, I had finally come to the painful conclusion that my life was a disaster and that it was time to salvage what remained of my soul. I told them everything: the bets, the lies, the betrayals, and things they had no idea existed. My reckless behavior set the stage for a free fall. My confession was the equivalent of the hangman pulling the lever and opening the trapdoor. It was finally over.

I resigned my position as an NBA referee and began a perilous and uncertain journey as a government witness. The FBI had a difficult time accepting the fact that I could so easily pick the winners of NBA games and probed me for more information. Along the way, FBI agents wanted to know if I, or any other referee, deliberately “fixed” games. The subsequent investigations, including one done at the NBA’s request, revealed that a culture of favoritism and manipulation existed in the NBA, a culture that often affected the outcome of games. I was all too familiar with that “culture” and used my insider’s knowledge to engage in illegal conduct, not for the purpose of affecting the outcome of a game, but for picking a winner and placing a bet. For me, it was as simple as knowing which referees were working a particular game; the rest was merely academic. I knew these guys. I knew who they liked, who they despised, who they would bend over backward to help, and who they would screw over at the drop of a hat. In fact, I knew them so well that they became consistently predictable, and I used their patterns to make predictions and place bets.

It wasn’t just the referees who tipped their hands and made my job of picking winners easy. It was clear to me that the league was complicit in the culture of fraud and often wielded its awesome power to steer and direct the way games were played, officiated and, worst of all, decided. Protecting superstars, ensuring marquee big-market matchups, and prolonging playoff series were of primary concern to NBA big shots, and the faithful throng of referees did its part to please the bosses in the league’s New York office.

I’ve seen all the skeletons in the NBA’s closet. When I sat down with FBI investigators, they wanted to see those skeletons for themselves. In giving this account of my life in the NBA, I am making public the events that unfolded as I worked with the FBI in its effort to obtain a full picture of my involvement regarding betting on professional basketball games.

After my fall from grace, many people encouraged me to write a book and share my experiences. There were times when I winced at the notion of opening myself up to further public scrutiny. But in the end, the decision to write this book afforded me the opportunity for genuine self-examination and introspection. What personality traits do I possess that compelled me to lie and deceive? Why would I engage in risky behaviors when my life was so completely satisfying? How could all this happen to a nice kid from suburban Philadelphia who was living his boyhood dream?

The answers to those questions are painful to admit, but admit them I do. More importantly, I have embraced my faults with vigor and have developed a healthy desire to keep them in check. After writing this book, I sat back and read it beginning to end, shaking my head and wondering who in the heck this guy named Tim Donaghy was. For me, there have been times when he was incredibly difficult to recognize.

Despite much public speculation, gossip, and rumor, it is often the case that only those on the inside truly know the full story. Keeping in mind that the truth is usually stranger than fiction, this book is my inside account of the wild and often predictable world of NBA basketball. This is my story.