Bread City Basketball

There was some unspoken rule in the locker room that nobody was allowed to ask a player anything until he was finished getting dressed. 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.

I’m angling for a good spot by David Lee’s locker when I hear an unmistakable baritone voice. I turn around, and who is strutting into the room? None other than the great Walt Frazier. Yes, Clyde the Glide himself, the smoothest cat to ever put on 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 ain’t no thing, and I can’t help but stare. I mean I’m trying my best to play it cool, but I’m either star struck or simply blinded by his fashion. As he passes, he smiles like we’re friends from back in the day and says, what’s happenin’ man? I couldn’t believe it! Then he walks right up to David Lee, who is still only half dressed, turns to the camera, and begins the interview. The rules don’t apply to the cool.