Official Danny Crawford jokes with Spurs guard Tony Parker during 1 of the more than 2,000 regular-season games he officiated.
Danny Crawford didn’t blink when he stepped away in 2017 after 32 years as an NBA referee. Eight years later, he is one of those people — driven, fortunate, curious — who stay so busy they sometimes wonder how they found time for a job at all.
The golf bug got him and it bites now three or four times a week, usually in the western Chicago suburbs where he lives, but also in Florida or other balmy destinations when the weather turns nasty. He and his wife, Claudia, travel, including recent trips to Australia and New Zealand, followed by another to see their son, Drew, play basketball in the Israeli Premier League.
Then there are breakfasts, monthly at least, with a rotating crew of friends, 60 or 70 strong. Like Crawford, they are former players, coaches, referees and fans, from all over the metro area. All levels, playgrounds to pros, including names familiar to NBA followers such as Tim Hardaway, Sonny Parker, Mickey Johnson, LaRue Martin, Roger Brown and Jim Brewer. Recovering hoops junkies and many in too deep to ever quit on the game.
“They’re all NBA fans,” Crawford said in a phone interview last week, “so of course they’ll complain to me about the referees.”
Critics everywhere. But the 71-year-old Crawford gets it, because he was one of them. Before he made his NBA debut in 1985 and worked more than 2,000 regular-season games to earn his place in the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame’s Class of 2025, Crawford played and butted heads with game officials. Lots of them.
NBA Referee Danny Crawford set the standard for excellence and integrity both on and off the court. A legendary career coupled with his kindness to all and authentic humility, his league-wide respect runs deep.
This weekend, the legendary Danny Crawford will be taking his… pic.twitter.com/XdU04phqz7
— NBA Referees (@OfficialNBARefs) September 2, 2025
“When I got fouls I disagreed with, I would let the referee know,” he said. “I didn’t get Draymond Green technical fouls or Rasheed Wallace, but I got enough of them.”
With the rest of the class that includes NBA All-Stars Dwight Howard and Carmelo Anthony, Miami owner Micky Arison and the 2008 USA Basketball “Redeem Team,” Crawford will be enshrined Saturday at Symphony Hall in Springfield, Mass., home of the Hall. He will have more folks celebrating with him than he ever presumed to have in those arenas, night after night.
“My life has been unbelievable,” Crawford said. “I have the greatest family, and I had the best job in the world. It was one of those jobs where, if I was rich, I would have worked it for free.”
The middle child of nine kids, Crawford played basketball at Cregier High School on Chicago’s west side and Northeastern Illinois University. From there, he worked his way up the officiating ladder from grade school and high school contests to small college games and in year-round leagues in the Chicago Park District.
“When I was turned onto refereeing, it was a transition from playing five days a week to five days, six days of refereeing,” he said. “I was in love with both of ’em.”
Crawford needed a day job while he reffed, so he worked a while as a substitute teacher. He got fired from a job with a record distributor when the boss didn’t like how much time he spent on his side hustle. He moved up to officiate Missouri Valley Conference games and in the Continental Basketball Association and earned an invitation to the NBA’s training program.
Before the end of Crawford’s third NBA season, back in the league’s two-ref days, he was promoted to crew chief. He worked more than 300 playoff games, including 30 Finals contests. Starting in 1997, Crawford worked one or more games in the championship round for 23 consecutive years. He was on the floor in Salt Lake City in 1998 for Michael Jordan’s final game with the Chicago Bulls and in Oakland for Game 7 in 2016 when Cleveland completed its improbable 3-1 comeback to beat Golden State.
Always, Crawford tried never to lose the player’s perspective.
“I’d listen and let them vent,” he said. “Then I would let them know, ‘OK, you’ve had your say. Let’s go.’ You can’t be an authority out on the court. These are pro players who are accustomed to hearing ‘Yes, yes, yes.’ All of a sudden you’re telling them ‘Nope?’ That’s where you run into problems.”
Said former NBA ref Bob Delaney: “Danny never took things personally. He understood that it was the will to win coming at you [from players and coaches]. More often than not, they’re not mad at you. The call you made gets in the way of their winning, and that’s their emotional reaction.”
Delaney, 73, was an NBA rookie in 1988 when he teamed with Crawford for the latter’s first game as crew chief. He was Crawford’s boss a decade ago, overseeing the officials for the league, when he sensed Crawford was thinking of hanging up his whistle.
Danny Crawford (right) says he had a tried-and-true tactic as an official when it came to listening to NBA player complaints in games.
“I knew he wanted to go [retire],” Delaney said. “I would tell him, ‘You’re my Timmy Duncan. I need you in May and June.’ So if we had to do some load management, we did some load management. I wanted the best guys for those two months. You’ve got to have the top referees available in playoff season.”
Said Crawford: “Those games are tough. The close games are the toughest. You just want to leave with the right team winning — then you know you’ve done your job. And if the team that lost isn’t chasing you to the locker room.”
Crawford joins ref predecessors such as Mendy Rudolph, Earl Strom, Darell Garretson, Hugh Evans and Dick Bavetta in the Hall, with future candidates stacked up like flights out of LaGuardia on a Friday afternoon. A number of his colleagues and friends such as Joey Crawford, Steve Javie, Duke Callahan, Delaney and others are worthy of consideration.
They’re a competitive bunch, and the announcement in April of Crawford’s Hall validation had some of them comparing resumes. In the end, though, better one than none for the team on the floor each night for which no one cheers.
“I’ve always felt, when one of us is recognized, we all are recognized,” Delaney said. “The entire referee profession is recognized.”
Marc Davis, 57, was a player at Chicago’s St. Ignatius Prep when Crawford reffed his games there. Now in his 26th NBA season, Davis thinks his mentor exemplifies the referees’ motto of “Game. Partners. Self,” in that order.
“The first officiating camp I ever went to, Danny was there,” Davis said. “His demeanor and his lack of ego made him a perfect official. Always under the radar, but then, after the fact, you look at him and say, ‘Of course. Job well done.’”
Legendary ref Joey Crawford – no relation, obvious by one look – appreciated Danny’s cool, calm demeanor because it was so different from, well, his own combustible style.
“Nothing bothered Danny. Me, I was one of those guys who might explode on you. But he stayed under control, did his job and got plays right,” Joey Crawford said.
“There’s a lot to be said for a guy who can bring people on the court down [emotionally]. He was a calming effect on the court. A lot of referees don’t learn that. Some nights, and I talked with Steve Javie about this, [combative] guys like us sometimes cause more problems for the younger ones.
“We’re looking at it that we’re going to defend them. Danny’s approach was, ‘I’ll stay calm and get them out of the muck.’ That’s what a great crew chief does.”
Some referees have gotten noticed for run-ins or friction — think Duncan getting tossed by Joey Crawford for laughing or Chris Paul’s running disdain for Scott Foster. One of Danny Crawford’s more interesting exchanges came when, true to form, he did not take the bait.
“We were playing an afternoon game late in the year, we already had clinched everything, and Tiger [Woods] was making a run in the Masters,” said Milwaukee coach Doc Rivers, then with Boston. “So Danny Ainge at halftime said, ‘Hey, Tiger might come back and win. You want to stay and watch?’ I was like, ‘Danny, it’s halftime.’ He said, ‘Well get thrown out!’
“So I go out and I’m screaming in the third quarter, trying to get thrown out. And Danny Crawford says, ‘Hey, come here!’ He says, ‘I want to watch, too. You’re going nowhere.’ He wouldn’t throw me out.”
Rivers added: “What made him great was, he could ref the game but he could also ref people. To me, that’s always been the most important part. And Danny could ref a big game. If you had him, you felt like, road or home, the moment was not going to be too big for him.”
At some point in his career, Crawford developed the habit of leading a walk of that night’s officials after lunch.
“The walk was talking about your family and everything but basketball,” Delaney said, “but it brought us together on a different level. It became part of his routine and he fostered teamwork and trust.”
During his coaching days in Boston, Doc Rivers (left) had a memorable encounter with Danny Crawford during a game.
Referees often are loathe to discuss favorites but from the safety of deep retirement, Crawford mentioned Grant Hill as a player he enjoyed working alongside. Another he mentioned was Ray Allen, with one big asterisk.
“The nicest guy. But I worked a playoff game in Miami and I called a technical foul on Ray,” Crawford said. “It was something to do with another player. Do you know he did not speak to me the rest of his career?
“I came home after that game and my daughter Lia said, ‘You are trending. They’re saying a lot about you and it ain’t good.’ I overreacted, gave him a technical and I’ve regretted it ever since.”
Maybe Crawford will make amends in his Hall acceptance speech Saturday. Not long after learning the news of his induction in April, he discovered that it was his children, Lia and Drew, who had nominated him. His dislike for the spotlight gave way to greater emotions when Lia explained their thinking.
Said Crawford: “She said, ‘Daddy, it’s not about you. It’s about your legacy that your family can go to forever. To know about their granddad.’ I started crying when they said that.
“It’s a great honor. I would step back and say, ‘I don’t deserve that.’ But my kids would slap me and say, ‘Daddy, yes you do.’”
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Steve Aschburner has written about the NBA since 1980. You can e-mail him here, find his archive here and follow him on X.
