Bread City Basketball

You couldn’t talk to a player until he was finished getting dressed. That was one of the locker room’s unspoken rules. This meant that for fifteen minutes after every game, there were a bunch of writers milling around, pretending not to watch Stephon Marbury moisturize, waiting like vultures for the moment when we could swoop in for pull quotes. First interview dibs usually went to TV, then journalists on deadline, then everyone else. As the youngest and most inexperienced writer there, I got the scraps. If I was lucky…

It’s 2007. I’m angling for a good spot by David Lee’s locker when I hear an unmistakable baritone voice. I turn around, and who struts into the room? None other than the great Walt Frazier.

Yes, Clyde the Glide himself, the smoothest cat to ever don a Knicks uniform, microphone in hand and remote broadcast crew in tow. He is rocking an incandescent blue suit with a yellow tie like it’s easy, and I can’t help but stare. I’m half star struck, half simply blinded by fashion. As he passes, he smiles like we’re friends from back in the day and says, what’s happenin’ man?

Then Cylde walks right up to David Lee, who is still only half dressed. He turns to the camera, and begins the interview. The unwritten rules don’t apply to the cool.