The Blog

What a time of year for any sports fan. So far, the NBA and NHL playoffs have produced an abundant number of thrills, with more to follow. One of more fascinating angles has been the emergence, on a national stage, of the New Orleans Hornets’ sensational Chris Paul.

Paul’s mastery of the game is a delight to watch. There is an amazing elegance to his play. He completely controls the action with his hesitation moves and quick bursts, and he’s a deadly shooter and pinpoint passer. It’s like he’s on a different level than everyone else on the floor. Watching him and some of the other incredible athletes in these playoffs, I can’t help wondering what James Naismith would think of the way his sport has evolved. He would be absolutely stunned.

Paul also shows remarkable poise and leadership for someone in his early 20s. Facially, and in a certain stage presence he has, Paul reminds me a bit of another superb athlete from an earlier era–someone who was not quite as modest–Deion Sanders. Like Sanders, Paul seems to have a natural charisma, maybe the determined intensity of someone who knows he’s more gifted than all his teammates and rivals.

In watching the Hornets take on the defending champion San Antonio Spurs, I found myself rooting heavily for the young challengers. Everyone says the Spurs are models of class, both on and off the court–a team that does it the right way.

Maybe so.

However, a few years ago, when I was on temporary assignment for the Los Angeles Times, writing an in-depth page-one series about the feuding Lakers as Kobe and Shaq made their last joint push toward a title (which they wouldn’t win, despite reaching the finals), I tried to interview the Spurs’ Robert Horry, who had once played in Los Angeles.

I waited patiently outside the lockerroom while he signed a few jerseys, then tried to introduce myself and explain the story I was doing. I never got more than a word out.  He gave me one of the rudest rebuffs I’ve experienced in more than 25 years as a journalist, barking “No!” and rushing the other direction through a door where I couldn’t get to him.

What had I done to him? I had no idea. Nothing, obviously. It was one of those moments that reinforced the impression that some athletes are really just spoiled jerks. How hard would it have been to at least listen for 10 or 15 seconds and decline like a civilized human being?

We all have different reasons for choosing to root for the teams we root for.  In this case, it’s really been no contest for me.