Seeing Byron Scott awarded NBA coach of the year reminded me of his days as head coach of the New Jersey Nets. He used to play golf at The Architect’s Club here in New Jersey quite a bit in the off season. I had many occasions to informally speak with him in my role as the “starter” at the golf club.
Anyway, one night, after I had already gone home for the day (I only live a mile from the course), I returned with my two daughters to hit some balls at the range (one of the perks the employees had in those days was unlimited range access). While I would bang away, my girls would roam the range in search of the perfect broken tee.
On this particular early evening, I happened upon Coach Scott in the parking lot after he had just finished up his round. He said, “Hey, didn’t I just see you at the first tee (4 hours earlier)?” “Yeah, Coach,” I responded, “how did ya play?” “Fine, but I’ve gotten myself into a little jam.”
Apparently, while putting his clubs away, he accidently dropped his car keys into the trunk. So he was locked out of his car. While he tried in vain to get “OnStar” to open his car, I busied myself shining my own car lights on the front windshield of his Lexus in a fruitless attempt to get the VIN numbers off his window. No luck. He was stuck. With me, his two playing partners (NBA front office types), and my two girls. What to do?
“Daddy,” my oldest daughter said. “Why don’t you drive him home?” “You just gave me an idea, sweetheart,” replied Byron. So he called his wife and asked her to come and pick him up. The only problem was that she was really bad with directions. Our plan called for me to drive Coach Scott and his associates to the Ruby Tuesday restaurant just off the interstate (which he jokingly told all that even his wife could at least find) and wait until she arrived.
So there we were, the five of us, in my Toyota Camry with Byron Scott in the front seat next to me and his two huge playing partners in the back with one of my daughters each on their respective laps. It was a site to behold. To top it off, Coach Scott’s cell phone rang and he engaged in a long discussion with “Zo” (as in Alon”zo” Mourning) about the Nets’ efforts to get him signed to the team (it was like an out take from Jerry McGuire I swear).
Well we got to the restaurant and awaited the arrival of his wife while he and his guests kindly entertained my daughters.
Byron Scott, Coach of the Year.
