An NBA Nerd’s Story
Few memories remain from a distant life I refer to as my childhood. I was a scrawny 2nd grader at Washington Elementary when my life changed forever. An early friend whose face and name I can no longer recall gifted me my very first basketball card. It was Eric Montross.
I had no idea who Eric Montross was. Heck, I barely knew how to pronounce his name. (I mean, I couldn’t really pronounce too many things well in 2nd grade). I remember getting the card and studying it. Before that moment, all I knew about the NBA was Michael Jordan. I knew there were other players in the league, but it never occurred to me that they even had names. As far as I was concerned, there was Michael Jordan and then everyone else might as well have been “Roster Player #98.”
The Eric Montross card sparked a new curiosity in me. I wanted to know who else was in the league. Best way to do that was to start my own basketball card collection. I started nagging my mom about taking me to the nearby West Coast Video — not for a VHS rental, but for the sole purpose of getting some NBA trading cards from the vending machine at the store’s entrance. I started with the cheap packs for a buck. They mostly contained role players that history has since forgotten, but there were a few gems in there. I would excitedly open the pack and begin reading names I had never heard of before, but that I haven’t forgotten since. Names like Trent Tucker, Stacey Augmon, Scott Burrell, Lafayette Lever, Wayman Tisdale, and Luc Longely (with a jersey that read “WOLVES”). I also had cards with more recognizable names too. Names like Patrick Ewing (which I pronounced as E-Wing for years), John Stockton, Isiah Thomas, Karl Malone, and Larry Bird. With every new pack came a new piece to this puzzle I was trying to put together. I would get excited when I would watch a game and recognize one of the players on the screen from my card collection. The NBA was becoming my comic book world. I was even sleeping on NBA bed sheets!
As the collection grew, so did my knowledge base of the league. I learned all the teams and what city they were located in (which really helped in learning geography). I learned what things like “PPG” and “FG%” stood for (which really helped in learning math). As I watched more games I quickly started learning who the great players were. I would then organize all my great player cards and bring them to school in a neatly organized binder. As the kids say, I was flexin’! Social currency went through the roof.
Once I was old enough to shoot and hit the rim, the basketball court became a stage. I’d shoot Jordan-esque fadeaways (bricks), perform Hardaway-esque crossovers (turnovers), and play Payton-esque defense (hacks). As the new millennium and adolescence came in, my best friend and I would throw up alley-oops to each other on the “biddies” and we’d humbly pay homage to Clipper legends Darius Miles and Q-Rich. We played at the park by the housing projects which overlooked Continental Airlines Arena, home of the New Jersey Nets. We’d fantasize about playing there one day and having Ahmad Rashad do a feature on us for NBA Inside Stuff. What a great story that would’ve been. I really really wanted to be Ahmad’s “main man.” Nonetheless, hoop dreams deflate like a true fiend’s weight when you stop growing at 5’ 10. Once I realized I would no longer be an NBA prospect, my attention reverted back toward being a more informed fan. During those infant years of the Internet, I went throughout countless AOL free trials just so that I could read everything on NBA.com.
I was a student of the game. Everything else came second. Pythagorean theorem? With what time? I had to learn all about the salary cap and Bird Rights. Read The Odyssey? Not until I finish reading the Collective Bargaining Agreement. Study group? Well ahead of you. I joined a message board so that I could bounce trade ideas off fellow NBA nerds. I was working on trades for my beloved Knicks way before ESPN made it easy with the Trade Machine. Math homework? Tah! I was too busy crunching numbers in an effort to get rid of Shandon Anderson’s 6-year $41M contract! I always appreciated the business side of the NBA. I geeked about learning the impact of TV deals and player endorsements. Sneaker contracts became as fun as free agency.
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In February 2010, I found myself in Dallas, TX for NBA All-Star Weekend. I was in my final semester, but had already began working as a freelancer with an event production agency. We were producing a Jordan Brand event. It was an event space in celebration of the 25th anniversary of the brand and MJ was coming off his induction into the HOF. As part of the run-of-show, different Jordan Brand athletes were scheduled for appearances and a Q&A session. The Q&A session was supposed to be conducted by a local radio personality. The details are fuzzy, but for some reason the radio personality couldn’t make it. Perfect! I knew that was my shot to snatch that gig. I had spent the previous days talking hoops with the then Global Director of Marketing at Jordan Brand, so I wasn’t shy about bringing the idea up and he wasn’t hesitant in signing off on it. Next thing I know, I’m hosting a Q&A session with Carmelo Anthony and Chris Paul, on behalf of Jordan Brand during NBA All-Star Weekend. Still surreal.
Since then, I’ve had the opportunity to work on various league related projects and even some NCAA hoops. The game has given me a lot. It taught me geography, and math, and law, and business, and even memory techniques. (I remember numbers by assigning each number to a player based on said player’s jersey number, and then I just remember the lineup — it makes a lot of sense in my head). It has solidified my sense of curiosity and helped mold me as an autodidact.
With just a few short hours remaining before the start of the 69th season of the National Basketball Association, I ask all my fellow NBA nerds to reflect on the indelible memories that we’ve stitched together over the years. Think back on the random players that brought you an ironic sense of joy. Thank you to the Mike Penberthy’s, the Rick Brunson’s, the JR Reid’s of the world. Thanks to Nate McMillan in Sonics green. Thanks to Haywoode Workman going from Pacer blue to referee grey. Thanks to Moochie Norris’ name. Thanks to Elliot Perry’s socks!
But mostly…
Thank you, Eric Montross. It all began with you.
