I once left Bill Walton a voice message regarding a story I was working on about Larry Bird. When he telephoned back, I didn't even have to ask him a question. I just pressed a button on my tape recorder.
He must have gone on for an hour. It was one of the great joys of my career. An hour was all you needed, if that, to fall in love with the man. By then, Walton would have given you a lesson on basketball and life.
“Larry’s story, coming from where he came from in Terre Haute,” he said in a breath as long as his 6 feet, 11 inches.