T he sportswriter's seat is the best in the house. Not because it comes with free popcorn, though it often does, or because it has a better angle on the big game than the average ticket buyer can procure, which it doesn't always. What makes the seat worth coveting is its unpurchaseable proximity to greatness in practice. I've not been fool enough to waste that. I take notes.
To witness the clutch shot, the winning throw, or the final strike is just a fractional part of the job. Most of your time is spent at practice, watching the alchemical processes by which coaches and athletes find the right action in the moment. Before and after practice, in the back halls and tunnels of clubhouses, a sportswriter can interview some of the greats and gather insights into the vital matter of their performance under pressure.
Once, I sat with the NBA's celebrated shooter Stephen Curry after a practice with the Golden State Warriors and, unable to resist, actually heard myself say, “Can I feel your hands?”
Curry obligingly held out his palms. I placed mine
