Life on the Run Read Online Free PDF Page A

never catch on. They do not help one another on defense; our screens consistently pick off pursuing defensemen. DeBusschere takes every opportunity to shoot and hits most of his shots uncontested. We win by twenty points.
    Basketball players and politicians have at least one thing in common. They meet the press almost every working day. In basketball, the interaction leads to a charade. Reporters try to lead players to statements which will confirm the reporters’ own preconceptions and players try to avoid saying anything that will make them look bad. So, every game must be followed with explanations of the self-evident. Each explanation must be short enough to fit into a five-hundred word story and perhaps interesting enough to sell papers.
    On an October trip to Philadelphia, four sportswriters accompany us, but on a play-off trip to the West Coast, there might be fifty writers, TV announcers, magazine reporters, and public relations people. On a Tuesday night at the Garden, there will usually be twenty members of the press in the locker room after the game. A few players run to the showers to avoid reporters and others practically solicit attention. Often standing in the nude, players will explain their own play and describe the weakness and strength of the other team. Everyone knows the interviewing process is brief. It takes place in twenty to thirty minutes and varies little from game to game.
    The newspaper press and the broadcasting media have a spirited rivalry and often come close to fighting for access to players. Four or five times I’ve seen pushing, and once I saw a blow thrown. Middle-aged writers have stood in the center of a locker room screaming, “I can’t do my job with all those microphones in my way. I have to talk to the players. We were here first.” The Knicks’ public relations man usually resolves the dispute by giving the newspapers the first five minutes, then the microphones join the questioning.
    Many journalists have a herd instinct. They cluster around two or three players, elbowing for position. At times they seem to work together, one reporter covering one player, another a second—later pooling their quotes. Sometimes those around one player will go to a second, where the same questions will be repeated. Often, after the pack leaves, a reporter will return to ask the questions which will distinguish his story from the others. If a player gives the persistent reporter the angle he is looking for, the reporter reciprocates by focusing attention on the player. Among the press, players get reputations as being “good copy” or “bad copy,” depending on their quips and cooperation. I’m bad copy.
    Wariness of the press comes from my years as a college player when much of what I said and did received exaggerated attention. For a while I lumped all reporters into one category and viewed them as people who imposed on my privacy, asking questions about many things unrelated to basketball. Later, I realized that in a pro locker room they are interested much more in the game than my life. I began to enjoy talking with a few, who were as aware of the charade as I. Still, immediately after playing, I am not capable of giving instant analysis. I am too involved with the game. Yet, when I do try to explain my version of what happened—and sometimes that is impossible in a few quick sentences—reporters frequently look at me with blank stares unwilling to take seriously the relation between my words and the game. Other times my explanation is incomplete because I leave out germane but occasionally derogatory references to teammates. The solution I have settled on is to help the reporter when I can but otherwise to utter a few standard comments so often that they lose interest in me.
    Most reporters are hard-working family men making a living. Some are anxious young fans who stand somewhat in awe of their idols and write puff pieces which reinforce sports clichés. A few are fair, reflective