Road Diaries

TUESDAY AND WEDNESDAY - New York

The last time I tried writing a travelogue, it was a basketball play-by-play assignment in Gainesville, followed by a shark-fishing trip with Rick Murphy on the flats of Florida Bay. This time, it's a two-game road trip with the Orlando Magic, as I play the role of pregame and sideline host for Sun Sports broadcasts in New York and Dallas. The common denominator to both trips: my gastrointestinal system.

Last February, as I drove from Hogtown back to Orlando and then hopped a flight to Miami, I did so under the influence of a vaguely fluish ache. This time around, my stomach was just freaking killing me. Advil then, Pepto now. What is it about road trips? I soldier on, of course. Warrior-Broadcaster.

Fortunately, because the Magic are at home before and after these two games, I have been granted a spot on the team plane for the duration of the trip. I must admit, if one must travel, doing so with an NBA franchise is the way to go. After parking my car in a private lot at Magic Carpet Aviation, on the quiet side of Orlando International Airport, I walk 100 yards to the plane. Total time from car to seat: 120 seconds. I think I could get used to this.

The broadcasters sit on couches that face each other in the rear of the plane - a fourth compartment that was once known as the "Homeboy Lounge" back in the days of Shaquille O'Neal and Dennis Scott. In front of us are four seats reserved for Brian Hill and his coaching staff. They spend most of the flight comparing notes and watching scouting tape on their laptops.

Ahead of the coaches, the main cabin, where the players can spread out with their headphones and video games and do, well, whatever it is that young millionaires do to kill time. The front compartment has another five or six seats that are typically occupied by sponsors or team guests. I should point out that every seat on the plane, from front to back, is larger than a first-class seat on a commercial airliner, and wrapped in leather. That is, every seat that's not a plush sofa, like the one I sat on. Like I said, one could get used to this.

The New York team hotel is the Trump International, on Central Park West. Sumptuous. My room overlooks Broadway at Columbus Circle. Lincoln Center to my right, Carnegie Hall down the street to the left. The curtains are operated by remote control. The only downside to this trip so far is the temperature, which is hovering close to Steve Francis's scoring average. In fact, it is prohibitively cold, but that hasn't stopped the waves of tourists from descending upon the city. They are everywhere. As I walk to dinner with Jeff Anbinder, a college buddy of mine, he points out Times Square. Instinctively, I avoid it. An Orlando kid knows better.

On game day, we spend a few minutes taping some introductions in front of the Christmas tree and the famed skating rink at Rockefeller Center. I must admit, the holidays are sheer magic in New York. The tourists be damned, I am struck by the number of parents I see walking with their children, and the number of smiles returned by total strangers - some of whom, by process of elimination, must be native New Yorkers. Yes, the place is in a hurry, and no, I could never live there. But when the lights are on the tree and a holiday chill is in the air, it is, as the teeming masses in front of Radio City Music Hall prove, a great place to visit.

Traveling with the team means the rare treat of riding the team bus from the hotel to the arena. The Magic rent two busses for each trip, generally separating the basketball ops personnel from the broadcasters and sponsors. On game day, however, those two busses are separated by time of departure to the arena - a "first bus" and "second bus." Anyone in the travel party is welcome to take whichever bus fits his schedule, and I'm on the first bus with just about everyone else, including the players. They are quiet. I never played professional sports, but the ride dredges up old memories of baseball road trips in high school. Game faces are being applied, silently.

Grant Hill, sitting three rows in front of me, is back in uniform tonight for the first time since the preseason, so we are interviewing him for the pregame show as well as the second segment of the game itself. Having come to the Garden earlier in the day for shootaround, I have a least a passing idea of where I'm going, but to be sure, I follow David Steele.

Grant is talkative and thoughtful, as always. I tell him that I am happy to see him in short pants and sneakers as opposed to a suit, which I thought was a friendly and clever line prior to the interview, and now regard as pretty dopey. One thing I have noticed already on this trip - as a member of the travel party, I am regarded with just a hair more trust by the Magic basketball people. It helps that Sun Sports has carried Magic games since the team's inception, and it's even more convenient that I'm known to many people on the bus - including Brian Hill - as a former Magic employee myself, but today's players probably don't know that, nor would they care if they did. The simple fact that I was on the plane, in the hotel lobby, at shootaround, and on the same schedule as the rest of team relaxes them around me. For once, I'm something other than another "media guy." I make a note to myself to guard that access carefully, and never, ever abuse it.

My press seat for this game is about as close to the Magic bench as I can get without actually wearing those short pants and sneakers. This, I will soon learn, is an excellent circumstance, not because I have a good view of the game, but because I am close enough to hear all of Keyon Dooling's trash-talk.

First off, Dooling does not just stand up at time-outs. As a veteran, the injured guard requires rookie Travis Diener to give him a hand out of his seat. Diener, to his credit, does so with a mildly amused look on his face. It should be noted that Travis Diener was a two-time all-conference player at Marquette, leading his team to the Final Four in 2003. Tonight, he's helping Keyon Dooling stand up. Welcome to the NBA, rookie.

As for the chatter from Dooling, it is both non-stop and exquisite. To Knicks rookie Channing Frye, after getting dunked on by Dwight Howard: "You better get used to that, Channing! It's gonna happen all night!"

To the entire Knicks lineup, after a touch-foul sends Grant Hill to the free throw line: "You can't touch Mr. Hill! Don't you know who that is?"

To Jamal Crawford: "Jamal, as soon as you get it, shoot it, baby. Just put it up. Don't even hesitate. We WANT you shooting it."

Dooling also calls Dwight Howard "Thundercat." See the things you learn on the bench? Imagine how much more ammo Dooling will have once he's actually playing.

The Magic look as good on this night as the Knicks look bad. Stephon Marbury, the alleged leader of this team, reverts to every bad habit he's ever had, taking bad shots and generally compelling his teammates to hate him. Nobody on the floor for the Knicks knows his role, nobody trusts anybody, and a simple screen and roll by the Magic turns into a potent (and embarassingly repeatable) weapon. Pat Garrity scores a season-high 17 points on 5-7 shooting from three-point range - most of those wide-open. Hill plays 23 huffing and puffing minutes in his first game in two months (I thought that my halftime interview might kill him, so I limited myself to one question). Steve-O had a poor scoring night but a memorable highlight-reel dunk. Thundercat adds 23 points and 13 rebounds, with the Magic bench imploring him to "Work!" every time he touches the ball on the block - in other words, they want Howard to remain aggressive and take the ball to the hole, which he does. The kid is an absolute monster, and he only gets better with each passing day. As David Steele would say on the bus back to the airport later that night, Howard "is going to save the franchise."

The Magic win going away. How wonderful it would be if every night looked like this, when all the pieces are working and nothing can go wrong. It never happens that way, of course.

And all that stuff I just wrote about how cool it is to fly on the team plane? None of it applies when flying from New York to Dallas into a 110-mph headwind. Four hours plus. Every Homeboy Lounge resident is beyond punch-drunk by the time we touch down in Texas. Somewhere, there is sleep, I just know it. It won't come until 4 a.m. Dallas time, or five a.m. on our body clocks.

So far, I have flown to New York on a privately owned 727, stayed at one of Donald Trump's crowning achievement hotels, walked through the masses at Rockefeller Center during Christmastime, broadcast an NBA game from Madison Square Garden, and checked into a four-star hotel in Dallas, all in the course of 48 hours. I also watched a mean game of Scrabble in the back of the plane, nearly put Steve Francis on the injured list by failing to hold a heavy glass door, got recognized on the streets of Manhattan by a tourist from Jacksonville, and got the inside scoop on how Betsy Steele was recruited to play volleyball in college. This is turning out to be a pretty good trip.

THURSDAY AND FRIDAY - DALLAS

Wake up at the Crescent Court, in the Uptown district of Big D, with a jet-lag headache. The Magic are practicing at noon, just an hour from now, but the broadcasters are not required, so I wander through the neighborhood and find a burger joint. The sky is impossibly blue, with temperatures hovering around 45, but it feels like Orlando in July compared to last night. Dennis Neumann, the Magic's radio announcer, was supposed to play golf today with color analyst Will Perdue, who arranged a round for the two of them at a new course nearby. Their tee time was 11:15. I wonder first, if they made it in time, and second, if they packed their windbreakers. A little chilly for golf, even for me.

The Mavs dominate the sports section of the Dallas Morning News. They beat Phoenix last night with another huge outing from Dirk Nowitzki and a workmanlike effort from Josh Howard, their young forward who is regarded by the local press in much the same way we in central Florida speak of Dwight Howard. I'm already looking forward to seeing them on the same floor tomorrow night.

I go to the Orlando Sentinel's sports section online and read Brian Schmitz's game story from New York. Brian was sitting next to me the entire game, and I peppered him with observations, some of which he actually wrote down. Sure enough, there it is, in print - Grant Hill's first bucket of the 2005 season came on a goaltending call. I gave him that one.

It's interesting to note how two people can sit in the same spot and see a different game. In fairness to me, I am watching the game with an earpiece, hearing the play-by-play call from David and Matt as well as the commands from producers Tye Eastham and Kevin Patterson in the Sun Sports production truck. It's like watching a game in the stands while listening to a phone conversation at the same time, paying attention in case your name comes up. Multitasking, I guess. Luckily, I have Brian's story to read the next day to catch what I missed while preparing for my next sideline report. Warrior-Broadcaster, that's me.

When in Dallas, try the Mexican food. It doesn't matter where. Also, my TV cohorts tell me that the Sixth Floor Depository museum, where JFK was shot, is worth a trip. I chose to stay in the hotel room and catch up on sleep.

On game day, I ride the bus to the American Airlines Center, which has just jumped up my list of the best buildings in the NBA. Clean, spacious, dripping with every amenity one can imagine. Best of all, it's three minutes from the hotel. We catch Mavs head coach Avery Johnson for some interviews, then say hello to former Magic favorite Darrell Armstrong, now a Maverick. We plan to interview him for the pregame show, so I start digging up my favorite Darrell memories.

Here's one: remember the All-Star Game in San Antonio, where Darrell was entered in the Slam Dunk contest? Shaq lobbied hard to get Armstrong in, having seen the little guy throw it down many times, but Darrell pretty much bombed under the bright lights. Here's what you don't know - when Armstrong arrived at the Alamodome before the contest, he opened his bag to find that someone had packed the wrong shorts. I think they belonged to Dennis Scott - they were at least five sizes too big for the wiry Armstrong, who goes maybe 165 soaking wet. He had no other shorts, and no other choice, so out he went. Personally, I blame the extra weight and wind resistance for his rough outing in the contest.

I asked him about that during the interview, and he said he didn't remember them being the wrong shorts, just too big. Trust me, somebody packed the wrong shorts.

The Magic played their guts out in Dallas. My seat was at center court, one row behind the television play-by-play position, and from that vantage point, I saw a glimpse of what this team could be. Grant scored 28 points in just his second game back, looking every bit the perennial All-Star, but the Magic just didn't have enough arrows against a potent (and very tall) Dallas lineup. Josh Howard was brilliant, much more so in this game than Dwight Howard, who registered a quiet double-double. I was a little disappointed, if only because the Dallas PR staff had told me that Dwight is a topic of conversation everywhere in the league, and I was pulling for him to blow up and add to the growing legend.

The Magic have their flaws - a lack of big men, a tendency to over-dribble, a paucity of offense when Francis and Hill are off the floor - but they looked pretty good. Damn, they could have had this game. There are no moral victories, but this one felt like it.

The bus ride back to Love Field is quiet, but not morose. Without a headwind, we make about 530 miles an hour back to Orlando, a two-hour jaunt. Everyone on the plane is exhausted, and this wasn't even a long road trip. Honestly, I don't know how they do it year in and year out.

Four nights, two cities, one win, one loss. The Magic will catch a huge break in the schedule now, with six home games during a 17-day stay in Orlando. Next road game is January 3rd at Detroit, and I will once again join the meandering road show in February, for a road game in New Jersey on Sun Sports. Plenty of time to rest up.

Warrior-Broadcaster, that's me.