For four glorious years I rode shotgun (along with my then high school aged brother Justin) on what was probably the greatest fan experience one could ever experience. The story about how I ended up with my 14 year old brother in a bona fide NBA entourage was chronicled by my good friend Alan Siegel on the web site Deadspin.
Here’s the nut graf of a story I hope to expand upon one day. Until then, I’ll let Alan take it.
You ever wonder what it’s like to befriend a good-but-not-great NBA player, to drift along in the wake of his semi-celebrity, to be, in a way, his very own Mars Blackmon? For Brian and Justin, at least, it was pleasantly, irresistibly, even delightfully banal. It was Funyuns and dinner in Tupperware and sleepovers, and it was playing Xbox as Ricky Davis with the real Ricky Davis just a few feet away. It was weird, in part because it was all so normal