Me? Number one?

(Folks, I wrote this a couple of weeks ago for fun. I had vague notions of trying to sell it, but realized over the weekend that I couldn't possibly do so in time. The wheels of publishing grind ever-so-slowly. So, enjoy.)

I JUST WANT TO HELP THE TEAM

All of us who follow NBA basketball were a bit shocked this week when we heard that the Chicago Bulls snagged the number one pick in the upcoming draft. Mathematically, they only had a 1.7% chance of getting the pick, and since Michael Jordan left in 1997, the franchise has seemed, well, a little snake-bit. Fluky injuries, a lot of bad draft picks, some trades that haven’t panned out…Put it this way: it’s been a tough decade to be a Bulls fan.

So the sudden good luck was surprising. But what was even more surprising was the news that they plan to select me.

I don’t mean to be ungrateful, It’s a huge honor and I will absolutely try my best, that goes without saying. It’s just—I guess I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it. I didn’t realize they could pick anybody. Then again, when you’re talking the kind of money they mentioned on the phone, who’s going to say no, right? I like working from home and everything but…damn.

I found out the day after the draft when John Paxson, the general manager of the Bulls, called me here in Santa Monica. I was out doing errands on my tricycle and he left a message on my machine. That was what, Wednesday morning? I haven’t called him back yet; I know I should, but to be honest, the more I think about it, the more it freaks me out. I mean…wow. What a life-change. Having to shower with your co-workers.

The main reason I’m freaked is because I’m not technically what you’d call a professional basketball player. But my wife Kate reminded me that none of the other players in the draft are professionals either. “Some of them haven’t even finished college,” she said. “Didn’t you get most of a Master’s Degree? They’re the ones that should be nervous.”

I love my wife.

Still, optimism doesn’t change the fact that I am only 5’6” (well, 5’5—or maybe 5’4” if I haven’t done my yoga). But then again, how tall was Spud Webb, 5’2”? Of course he had tremendous leaping ability, whereas at 38 (39 next month) I have to stretch every day or else my lower back gets really tight. When that happens, everything’s uncomfortable, even sitting on the couch. But that’s why they have trainers, right?
And on the other hand, whenever we used to play “HORSE” on the hoop next to the garage, my dad always said I had a decent jump shot. We didn’t play often, because I got sick of losing. Honestly, I couldn’t afford it; whenever there was money on the line—even, like two dollars—I’d totally freeze up. I’d have to visualize missing, just to relax enough to hit the rim.

Even though my shot is all right—I probably make five out of ten when I’m “on”—after about twenty shots, the ball starts getting really heavy. I wonder if that’s ever happened to LeBron. You’re playing HORSE with your dad and doing all right, then all the sudden, it’s like heaving a boulder, and he starts asking if you want to play “double or nothing” and you can hardly breathe and have to start visualizing shooting the ball so it gets wedged behind the backboard where all the spiderwebs are, just so you can quit with dignity. “Sorry Dad, I would finish the game, but you know how I feel about spiders.”

I probably shouldn’t tell Paxson all of that, at least not until after the contract’s signed. I’ll go to the park and practice, that’ll make me feel more confident. Maybe somebody in the building has a basketball. Or better yet, a soccer ball—they’re a bit lighter.

Number one picks are really about the future of the franchise. In that case, I think I can see why they picked me. I mean, I’m not likely to get any worse, especially if I’m going to be getting a lot more exercise. If they think I’m good enough now, when all I do is sit at my desk…What I’m trying to say is, I’m happy to be “a cornerstone.” That doesn’t seem like it will require a lot of physical activity.

Obviously, I have no problem mentoring the young guys. Dating, careers, investing—we forget how tough it is when you’re that age. Especially if you’re suddenly famous and have a lot of money. Don’t worry—it won’t go to my head. Except for the money part, that might be a little tough. And having people recognize me, how weird. Maybe I should change my name.

The one thing Mr. Paxson did say in the phone message was that “I seemed like a high character guy” and that they were always looking for those. Well, I may be short, and pretty weak in my upper body, and I think legally I’ll be obligated to tell them I have a slight case of cerebral palsy (people usually just ask, “Did you twist your ankle?”)—but if you’re looking for high character, I’m your man. I won three “Human Relations” awards in high school, and I’m still a pretty solid citizen. The people downstairs are always calling to see if I can watch their 11-year-old, and I usually say “yes” even when it’s not totally convenient. Hey, whatever. What goes around comes around. Although to be frank my wife ends up doing more work than I do, the kid being a girl and relating better to her. But—and I swear this is totally true—I found a twenty dollar bill at Whole Foods last year and tried to turn it into the security guard (he told me to keep it).

I guess Kate’s right, that kind of good deed does pay off!