We turned and laughed at them.īreathing as if we’d just run wind sprints after practice, we collapsed onto the plastic seats-and that’s when I heard the crackle and pop. We slithered through the doors as they sealed off the kids on the platform who hadn’t quite made it. We dropped our tokens in the slot and ran through the turnstile as we heard the automated voice saying, “The doors are now closing.” Chris, George, and I ripped off our parochial school–mandated neckties, because we didn’t want to be seen in them by either a cute girl or a tough guy who might want to make a victim of a private school kid. We busted out of the school and ran the 334 yards to the Main Street subway station (yes, we had measured it).Īs we rushed down the subway steps, we could hear the train pull into the station. This was a Friday, which brought the frenzy up yet another notch. It wasn’t that there was anything particularly exciting waiting for us at home it’s more that teenagers are in a hurry to get as far from school as they can, as quickly as possible.Īrchbishop Molloy was an all-boys school at the time, and the sheer energy and testosterone pouring out of that building every afternoon must have been something to behold. If you skipped every other stair as you sprinted out of the building, you could catch the N train that pulled in at two thirty and be home by three. There was no basketball practice that day, and for kids our age that represented a special few hours of freedom. My two best friends and teammates, George Kingland and Chris Sterling, and I dashed out of the school. It was 1981 and I was in the eleventh grade.ĭesks slid across the floor and lockers slammed. The school bell rang at 2:20 p.m., signaling the end of the day at Archbishop Molloy High School in Queens, New York. “Smith? You awake?” he’d say from across the room.Īnd we’d spend the next few hours talking about our dreams and fears, developing a bond that would survive through later decades in which we hardly saw each other. We’d be lying there in the dark, trying to sleep after a game, well past midnight. He wasn’t yet Michael Jordan, American icon. A kid who liked a girl at school who didn’t really like him back. This is when he was Mike Jordan, a kid from the South who wore corny clothes and drove a corny car. You’re still vulnerable and figuring out who you are. When you’re eighteen or nineteen years old, you have conversations that you don’t have at thirty. Often as an underclassman I would room with Michael, who was two years ahead of me. How do I know this? At North Carolina, juniors and seniors had to share a room on the road with freshmen and sophomores. He would have cried the same way if he’d lost. It was the release of all that competitive energy that made him emotional. He cried because he competed and left it all out there. Most people thought he was crying because he won. In The Last Dance, they showed the famous image of Michael hugging the NBA championship trophy and crying after he won his first title in 1991. He’s going to share what makes him great and allow that once-in-a-lifetime competitive spirit to rub off on you. If you connect with what Michael is really about, you realize that he’s actually generous. Armstrong play alongside Michael and I thought, I don’t know if they understand what he’s bringing to them.ĭuring the quarantine period of 2020, when the Jordan documentary The Last Dance was all the sports world could talk about, I laughed at the guys who said they didn’t like it when Michael got on them in practice. I watched Scottie mature into that, and I felt it could have been me, because I know what type of energy Michael brings into you if you’re open to it. His competitiveness would have taken me to another level. In that moment and for many years after, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Michael would have helped me become a perennial All-Star, even a Hall of Famer. I went to the Sacramento Kings with the very next pick. Why would anyone have a problem learning from Michael, no matter how he delivered feedback? Plus, he only got on the guys who needed it. He’ll scream at his teammates in practice. Their front office brought me in beforehand and asked about Michael Jordan, my old teammate at the University of North Carolina. The Chicago Bulls were considering choosing me. All through our playing days, and even today-I’m still jealous of Scottie Pippen. (Courtesy of Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group) Book excerpt: 'Talk of Champions: Stories of the People Who Made Me' Kenny "The Jet" Smith won two NBA titles and has been a longtime basketball analyst with TNT's "Inside Basketball." He joins host Scott Tong to talk about his new memoir " Talk of Champions: Stories of the People Who Made Me." The cover of "Talk of Champions" by Kenny Smith. Kenny Smith is the author of "Talk of Champions." (Jeremy Freeman/Warner Bros.
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