The Young And The Restless Toronto Teenager Mcgrady Seeks Identity As Nba Rookie
Tracy McGrady is the last player to leave practice, meaning he’s the last player to shower and dress, meaning he’s the last player to arrive at what is now a skimpy buffet set up in a private room at the SkyDome.
“You let ‘em eat all the chicken fingers?” he teases Natalie Justin, a Toronto Raptors community relations assistant. “And I gotta come in here and sign all of this?”
What awaits McGrady’s signature are piles of posters and jerseys and six dozen basketballs that will be donated to charities. Once a month, the community relations department caters lunch for the team, cranks up a boombox and hands out the markers. Such autograph sessions are common in the National Basketball Association, one of the few off-court obligations a player has.
But in 15 minutes, McGrady, the NBA’s youngest player, is finished. The rest of the day is his to enjoy. And it’s not even 1 p.m.
This is one of the secrets of life in the NBA: mucho down time. Though the league can be punishing on the body - 82 games over 171 days, half of them on the road - few jobs offer a work schedule that is so obliging. On game days, that means a light practice in the morning, game at night. On non-game days that means a single 2-hour workout.
How players who make an average annual salary of $2.2 million handle the luxury of free time, whether they can avoid the temptations that accompany celebrity, is what sometimes separates stars from losers.
“You can be the greatest basketball player,” says Raptors forward Carlos Rogers, “and be the biggest idiot in the world.”
Raptors veteran Doug Christie reads Deepak Chopra and takes his wife and daughter on road trips. But he is a rarity and gets razzed by the other players. McGrady, who was a high school player only last year, has no family with him and doesn’t know Deepak Chopra from an illegal defense. Before now, he had never been on his own. He’s still establishing his lifestyle and off-court persona, still learning how to fill the open spaces in a young millionaire’s day.
“He’s by himself and it must be very difficult for him,” says teammate Zan Tabak, 27, who left his home in Croatia seven years ago to play professionally. “This league can eat up the young. In one year, you can become something you’re not… . Tracy, he comes to the league clean. He needs to stay clean.”
McGrady climbs into the Ford Expedition he’s leasing and tools out of the SkyDome garage. He turns up the volume on the stereo, the latest CD by the hard-core rap group OutKast. It’s only four blocks to the Queens Quay Residences, where he has rented a furnished, three-bedroom condominium for the season.
The apartment has a classic bachelor-pad look - black leather sofa and chairs, hardwood floors, throw rugs and a silk plant. The master bedroom has a walk-in closet stocked with all manner of Adidas athletic gear, courtesy of his sponsor, which signed him to a $12-million endorsement contract. His balcony offers a dramatic view of Lake Ontario.
A glass table in the foyer is stacked with folded dress shirts and ties that have been sent to him by his clothier in Rochester, N.Y. - NBA players, with their long limbs and difficult measurements, often buy their clothes from custom tailors.
He then heads into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator. On the shelves are heaps of takeout tins - meals prepared by team nutritionist Corey Marks, who doubles as cook to several players.
McGrady then plops on the sofa and starts surfing the channels on DirectTV. NBA action, high school football, movies. Nothing keeps his attention, but it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s time to go to the dentist.
He pulls up to the office of Peter Nkansah, the Raptors’ dentist. He’s 15 minutes early for his 2 o’clock appointment and has to wait. He checks his pager - he gets beeped an average of 15 to 20 times a day - and telephones his mother on his cell phone. He talks to her often; he talks to his girlfriend in North Carolina every day.
Nkansah examines McGrady’s mouth. He needs four fillings.
“Talk to your agent about your insurance?” Nkansah inquires.
“No, but I will today,” McGrady says. McGrady doesn’t know what kind of policy he has; agent Arn Tellem takes care of that.
On the way out, he sees assistant coach John Shumate sitting in the lobby waiting his turn. Shumate has taken a special interest in the young player since the day he spotted him skipping on the court, childlike, and realized, “He’s a baby.
“I wish he could have spent even two years in college as part of the natural process of maturation,” Shumate says, “because once you get here, there ain’t no such thing as age. It’s about winning and losing. It’s a business.”
So far, McGrady has found his way around Toronto and its suburbs with ease. He is asked about two contemporaries who were waiting for him to finish shooting free throws one day. One of the guys is Marvin, whom he met after a practice.
“He looks out for me,” says McGrady. If Tracy needs a haircut, Marvin calls one of his barber buddies to come over.
He has other acquaintances in Toronto whom he thinks of as friends.
You’re not worried that some of these “friends” might try to take advantage of you?
“No, I’m not worried because I don’t try to let anybody get close,” he says.
Sometimes it’s easy to forget McGrady is a professional athlete, with all the pleasures and pressures that status brings. That’s because he’s still discovering ways to pass the day.
Ever go to any museums?
“Who, me?” His eyebrows form a frown. “That’s not me.”
Plays?
“Nah,” he says, “I haven’t been to a play since high school.”