A Day With Shaq

Spending a day with Shaq is out of this world

June 12, 2002

By Chris Bernucca
SportsTicker Pro Basketball Editor

EAST RUTHERFORD, New Jersey (Ticker) -- There are more than
1,000 media members at the NBA Finals, so imagine my surprise
when Shaquille O'Neal picked me to spend a day with him and tell his
life story.

You can imagine the jealousy. ESPN's David Aldridge could be heard
on his cell phone, yelling at the assignment desk in Bristol,
Connecticut. Mike Monroe and Sam Smith were conspiring to throw me
out of the Pro Basketball Writers Association. I thought I saw Jim Gray
following me.

O'Neal and I met after practice in Newark, a couple of miles down the
New Jersey Turnpike from the Continental Airlines Arena, where his
Los Angeles Lakers are about to win their third straight championship.

Like many basketball writers, I was under the impression that this was
the town where Shaq was born. But he set me straight.

"I'm different. I'm not from this planet," he told me. "I was looking at my
mother's book, trying to find baby pictures. "I didn't see any baby
pictures. Then I saw a certificate that said I was found on a train."

You might think that someone as big as O'Neal would have been a
bully as a youngster. Not so. In fact, it was quite the opposite. As the
case has been throughout his NBA career, O'Neal's size made him an
obvious target for as long as he can remember.

"I've been getting criticized ever since I was a newborn," he laments.
"(They said), 'He's not gonna fit those Pampers, his boom boom is too
big. You need some bigger Pampers.'"

You also might think someone as popular as O'Neal would know all of
the hot spots in New Jersey. Again, you would be wrong.

"I have no idea. I don't know," he says. "You can go to Vivi's house, get
some fried chicken. You could go see my cousin Brian, Ida-Ann, go
see Grandpa."

In case you were wondering, those are some of O'Neal's relatives. We
met them driving around Newark in his custom-made SUV, with a
stereo system so powerful it makes the streetlamps sway to the beat.

A song comes on the radio, and O'Neal turns up the volume. "You
know the song by Juvenile, 'Back That Ass Up'?" he asks.

I am unfamiliar with it, so O'Neal explains. According to him, that song
best describes his style of play.

"I just like to back them up with the booty, juvenile style," he says.

We drive past a basketball court and -- perhaps with my senses dulled
from the numbing reverberation of the subwoofers in O'Neal's ride -- I
challenge the big guy to a game of 1-on-1, first one to 11 points wins.

He lets me have the ball first and swats my jump shot off my head and
out of bounds. He backs me down 10 straight times for dunks. The rim
looks like a pretzel. I am so black and blue, I look like a plum.

"I have a boom-boom-boom game," he says. "I always go to the first
boom. If you take that away, I hit you with the other boom. By that time,
I put the big booty on you and you'll be under the basket and it's a dunk.
Not too many people can withstand my boom boom."

I admit to O'Neal that it was probably a bad idea to challenge him to a
game. I'm ready to pack it in, but he quickly reminds me that he needs
one more point to win and the game isn't over until it's over. He says
that's something he learned from his college coach.

"Coming from LSU, playing with crazy Dale Brown, down 15 (points),
20 seconds left, he's the type to come in the huddle, 'All we need is
nine 3-pointers. We can do it! Let's go!'" O'Neal recalls.

Spurred on by O'Neal's inspiring words, I give him the ball and dig in on
defense. He backs me into the support pole and dunks again. The
backboard comes crashing down, missing my head by inches.

We head back to O'Neal's hotel room to get ready for what I assume
will be a big night on the town. O'Neal is one win away from cementing
his status as one of the game's true all-time greats, and everyone
knows the Nets cannot stop him or the Lakers.

Celebrating one night early couldn't hurt, right? Wrong. O'Neal heads
for the bathroom, beginning his ritualistic preparation for what should
be his last game of the season.

"I take a cold shower, watch certain channels at night on the TV," he
says.

Boy, what a disappointment. The other night, O'Neal and Kobe Bryant
went to Mickey Mantle's in midtown to watch the Lennox Lewis-Mike
Tyson fight. I thought for sure we'd be heading to a ritzy restaurant or a
nouveaux nightclub.

Oh, well. With O'Neal and I both being family men and not big fans of
hockey, I figure we're going to watch something like "Sponge Bob" or
maybe a movie on the Disney Channel. O'Neal, however, has other
ideas.

"Before the game, I like to get excited about what I'm getting ready to
do, so I watch certain channels," he explains.

There's no explanation necessary; Asia Carrera is fine with me. She's
certainly more exciting than the NBA Finals have been -- present
company excepted, of course.

That gets me wondering. Why would a man as rich and as powerful as
O'Neal pick me to chronicle his daily routine? This is a man who once
marketed a line of clothes called TWISM, an acronym for The World Is
Mine."

Why would he allow little ol' me into that world?

"I get mad (and) I'm not allowed to say or do anything, because of how
corporate I am," he says. "So I have to channel it in different ways. You
guys are very illustrious and creative with your pens and I just like to
prove you wrong every now and then. So once again, thank you for the
lovely words of encouragement."

No, Shaquille, thank you.