September 14, 2020

Today was a day with no NBA games scheduled.  We were down to five teams, the Eastern Conference finals were set to begin on Tuesday and the deciding game seven of the Clippers Nuggets matchup was Tuesday as well.  Everyone in the immediate bubble was in a festive mood as we began to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  Keep in mind our brothers at ESPN and support staff had about a month left in their sentence and we had slightly more than two weeks with a worst case scenario.

 

The pool area that we were confined to was bustling. Several groups of personnel had music blaring from their personal Bluetooth speakers, there was a great deal of alcohol being passed around, and a makeshift blackjack table was even set up for would be gamblers to take a shot at.  I asked about the buy in for the game of twenty one and found that it was for entertainment purposes only. Nonetheless, I couldn’t resist and played for a good hour earning more fake profits in that hour than I had ever realistically accomplished in real life.

 

I made the common mistake that most recreational drinkers do.  I had mixed myself a few rum and cokes, and as the day progressed, rather than reducing my intake, I increased.  By the time we were ready for our 6:00pm whiffle ball game, I was pretty lit.  So lit in fact, that I stuck out a couple of times, even though I only remember doing that once.  That gives you a good idea that I was not in the best of condition to play a game of whiffle ball.  Luckily, I was coherent enough to stop drinking once we started playing rather than continue down the path of complete memory loss.  I have to admit, my colleagues were quick to point out once again my lack of success at the plate. Why they pay attention to my success or failure on the field is beyond me, but it is somewhat flattering.

 

While leaving the field after the game we were headed to the dining center when I encountered Richard Jefferson who had just been released from quarantine.  Richard played his college ball at the University of Arizona then had a wonderfully successful career in the NBA.  He now worked for ESPN as part of their studio show and was here for the Conference and NBA Finals.  He was sitting with Rebecca Haarlow who was one of our sideline reporters for TNT. A couple of ESPN employees were with them as well and I went over to introduce myself and say hello then head to dinner.  I told Richard that I was the camera operator underneath the south basket at McKale Center when he played ball there.  He said he remembered me.  No he didn’t.  He was just being nice.  Anyway, after some small talk I was ready to walk away to eat dinner and he asked if I wanted to join them for a glass of wine and some conversation.  Hell yeah I would! 

 

What transpired for the next four hours, yes, four hours, was perhaps my most cherished memory of my time in the bubble.  There had been numerous memorable games, a work stoppage, a protest march, many zoom interviews, countless memories with my colleagues, and the mere fact that we had existed in a bubble.  But the conversation with Richard, Rebecca, the two ESPN employees, and me topped them all.

 

Let’s set the stage.  Richard was a well-known athlete from the NBA that had played with or against many of the greats of his era.  Rebecca was a seasoned broadcaster herself, currently working with the MSG Network in New York along with working for Turner during these playoffs.  The two ESPN employees, both women, I had come to know during our stay in the bubble.  Both were about the same age as my daughter.  And then there was me. 

 

Richard shared countless memories of his experiences in the NBA but the conversation steered towards the Black Lives Matter movement at some point.  His perspective was refreshing to hear and I only wish that those that either fear the BLM movement or don’t understand it would have had the opportunity to listen to his point of view.  He stressed the positives of the movement but wasn’t shy to criticize the extreme acts that had occurred as well. As he spoke many questions accumulated in my head that I wanted to let out.  Some of the questions I had were quite pointed but he reassured me with this comment.  “Speak freely, this is how we learn,” he said to me and I thought, what a refreshing manner in which to have a discussion.  I felt lucky to have had this opportunity but also saddened as others with less understanding than I would never have this chance.  Our conversation was a model for learning.  There was no right, no wrong, only perspectives in which to absorb and digest.  We weren’t debating to win, we were talking to learn.

 

Rebecca gave me an incredible perspective of her life as a female in a business dominated by males.  Hearing of her experiences, her challenges, her difficultly in trying to aspire in a business where, in her words, “Who did you screw to get your job” were commonplace yet untrue.  I could only sympathize with her as she, emotionally at times, felt she had to justify to others her professional capabilities and qualifications and downplay her attractivess.  Men in her line of work don’t have to do that on a regular basis like she has had to do, nor do they have to deal with the barrage of comments and advances from entitled athletes. I walked away with a greater respect for her and other women like her.

 

We had no idea we had been conversing for the length of time we had.  Two passing storms had interrupted our conversation along with the consumption of several bottles of wine when Rebecca looked at her watch and realized she hadn’t completed her COVID test yet.  It was near midnight, I hadn’t eaten dinner, Richard had to get up early for his show in the morning along with the two ESPN employees, so we all said goodnight.  Rebecca said “Hey, let’s do this again.  This was great.”  Yes it was.  This was simply another experience I would have never had if not for the NBA bubble.  And as I replayed the evening in my mind I only wish it would have been recorded for anyone that was interested to experience.