关于山姆·阿米科最新帖子山姆·阿米科（见所有）阿米科：拉里·伯德打电话，我差点毁了 - 2019年9月12日热力锻炼第四年选择大个子阿德巴约 - 2019年9月11日骑士队的吉尔伯特，麦克劳德的家庭：我们将非常想念他' - 2019年9月11日
当拉里·伯德回我的电话时，我几乎开车离开马路。
2008年，我正在为美国男子奥林匹克篮球队做一篇报道。伯德是1992年梦之队的成员。所以我想他来对国际比赛的现状发表看法。
业内的一位朋友告诉我，只要给伯德打电话，他的办公室就来。和今天一样，伯德是印第安纳步行者队的篮球大决策者。
"有时他接自己的电话，"我的朋友说，然后带来了一线希望。"值得一枪。
所以我打电话来鸟没有回答。我口吃一个语音信箱，说了一些关于写故事和希望鸟的意见。
就是这个我想我从没收到过伯德的来信他是个传奇人物我这样做，不管它是什么。
五个小时后，电话响了。该呼叫来自印第安纳波利斯区号。我当时在开车，我的长子，3岁，坐在他的汽车座椅上。他哭着说，我不知道是什么。
我只知道拉里·伯德在打电话，孩子不能保持沉默。但我必须回答我不能错过伯德的电话。
所以回答我做到了。我说了好
"萨姆？我只是默默地坐着，惊呆了。我认出了那个声音，那个印第安纳州南部。"嘿，我是拉里·伯德，"声音说。
当然，我儿子并不在乎是拉里·伯德、伯德·约翰逊夫人还是大鸟。他只是继续尖叫。
我知道伯德能听见整个中西部，也许还有一对新英格兰州都能听到。但在我有机会说什么之前，伯德笑着插话。
"你要么有孩子，要么结婚了，因为我听到很多关于你肚子的肚子，"他说。
我道歉，并告诉鸟，我需要拉过来，拿出我的录音机，并找到一种方法，使孩子安静。他笑着说："一切都好，山姆。把你的时间。
伯德和他不认识的人很亲切。在整个面试中，他都是这样。谈话结束时，我感谢他。"你拿到了，"他说。"随时给我打电话"
霍佩斯·希罗
我矮了一英尺，但伯德是我模仿我游戏的人。我想像他在波士顿凯尔特人队的鼎盛时期那样投篮。我想通过，我想成为一个篮球杀手，我想赢。
朱利叶斯"J博士"欧文让我爱上了这个游戏。鸟把它变成了一种痴迷。
我会读出伯德经常每天花六七个小时在他的车道上投篮——雨、雨夹雪、雪都无关紧要。有时，伯德玩，直到他的手裂开，起泡和流血。
有时，他玩的脚踝肿胀，手指骨折或流感。他刚刚上场，我确保也能打好这一切。
我只是个孩子，在伯德处于巅盛时期时，他一点也不知道。没有人告诉我，只有12个身高不到6英尺的球员在NBA有过影响。我以为我能来我梦想我能在球场上，哪怕只有一秒钟，因为我崇拜像鸟一样的游戏。
当然，从没发生过。我确实考了上大学。我确实得到了奖学金。我成为我们会议中唯一一个身高超过6英尺0的球员。我甚至创造了一场比赛中三分球（七分）的校内纪录。它持续了长达五个月。
但鸟是我把我对比赛的绝对痴迷转化为职业生涯的主要原因。我学会了写作（或者至少尝试过），这样我就可以写篮球了。
这是淡季，一个反思的季节。这就是为什么我写这个专栏关于一个千载难逢的球员。
一个帮助塑造我生活的玩家——对于一个成年人来说，谈论一个完全陌生的人可能有点奇怪。
但我写给我这个和为读者写一样多。
原标题：
Amico: Larry Bird called, and I almost wrecked
原文：
About Latest Posts Sam Amico Latest posts by Sam Amico (see all) Amico: Larry Bird called, and I almost wrecked - September 12, 2019 Heat exercise fourth-year option on big man Adebayo - September 11, 2019 Cavs’ Gilbert, family on McLeod: ‘We will miss him tremendously’ - September 11, 2019
When Larry Bird returned my call, I practically drove off the road.
The year was 2008 and I was doing a story on the U.S. men’s Olympic basketball team. Bird was a member of the original Dream Team of 1992. So I wanted his opinion on the current state of international hoops.
A friend in the industry told me just to call Bird at his office. Like today, Bird was the big basketball decision-maker for the Indiana Pacers.
“Sometimes he answers his own phone,” my friend said, before offering a glimmer of hope. “Worth a shot.”
So I called. Bird didn’t answer. I stammered through a voice mail, saying something about writing a story and wanting Bird’s input.
That was that. I figured I’d never hear from Bird. He’s a legend. I was doing this, whatever this is.
Five hours later, the phone rang. The call came from an Indianapolis area code. I was driving, and my eldest son, 3-years old at the time, was riding in his car seat. He was crying about something, I have no idea what.
All I knew was Larry Bird may be calling, and the kid couldn’t keep quiet. But I had to answer. I couldn’t miss a call from Bird.
So answer I did. I said hello.
“Sam?” asked the voice from the other end. I just sat in silence, stunned. I recognized that voice, that southern Indiana drawl. “Hey, it’s Larry Bird,” the voice said.
Of course, my son didn’t care if it was Larry Bird, Lady Bird Johnson or Big Bird. He just continued to scream.
I knew Bird could hear it. All of the Midwest and probably a couple New England states could hear it. But before I had a chance to say anything, Bird chuckled and chimed in.
“You either have a child or you’re married, because I hear a lot of bellyaching going on around you,” he said.
I apologized and told Bird I would need to pull over to get out my recorder and find a way to quiet the kid. He laughed and said, “It’s all good, Sam. Take your time.”
Bird was out-of-the-way gracious with someone he didn’t know. He behaved that way through the entire interview. I thanked him at the end of our conversation. “You got it,” he said. “Call me anytime.”
A HOOPS HERO
I was a foot shorter, but Bird is the man after whom I modeled my game. I wanted to shoot like he did during his heyday with the Boston Celtics. I wanted to pass, I wanted to be a basketball assassin, I wanted to win.
Julius “Dr. J” Erving made me fall in love with the game. Bird turned it into an obsession.
I would read how Bird often spent six or seven hours a day shooting baskets in his driveway —Â rain, sleet, snow, didn’t matter. Sometimes, Bird played until his hands cracked, blistered and bled.
Sometimes, he played with swollen ankles, broken fingers or the flu. He just played, and I made sure to play through all of that, too.
I was just a kid who didn’t know any better when Bird was in his prime. No one told me that only about, oh, 12 guys shorter than 6-foot have ever made an impact in the NBA. I thought I could make it. I dreamed I could be on that court, even for just one second, because I worshiped the game like Bird.
Never happened, of course. I did make it to college. I did get a scholarship. I did become the only player shorter than 6-foot-0 in our conference. I even set the school record for 3-pointers in a game (seven). It lasted a whopping five months.
But Bird is the main reason I turned my absolute obsession for the game into a career. I learned to write (or at least tried) so I could write about basketball.
It’s the offseason, a season for reflection. That’s why I write this column about a once-in-a-lifetime player.
A player who helped shape my life — as odd as that may be for a grown man to say about a complete stranger.
But I write this for me as much for me as I do the reader.
