Yes, Al Jefferson, We Drink Beer ~ Blog 19

The lords of all creation.

Athletes are notoriously difficult to interview. In college, they go through media training that teaches them to always stay positive, evasive of touchy subjects and to speak in cliches. Baseball players are the worst. In the movie Bull Durham, Kevin Costner's character tells a young pitcher how to toss out cliches in order to avoid actually saying anything. Baseball players have taken the advice to heart, sadly.

But there are moments where you can crack the egg. It's what makes reporting fun.

On Tuesday, the Utah Jazz held a practice session in a small college gym located right next to the Boston Common. The players lounged in the stands, waiting through a 10-minute interview period. There were only three reporters there; the guy from Sports Illustrated sequestered Gordon Hayward for almost the entire time.

That left me to wander between players who had never seen me before. I asked random questions about basketball, they gave the best answers they could. It's a painful process for both of us.

Building an actual relationship with players and coaches is difficult, bordering on impossible. We are natural enemies and we both know it. At least, that's the perception.

That's what happened at the end of question-and-answer time yesterday so entertaining. My friend from Utah, Grizzly, was standing near me and Al Jefferson, arguably the most notable Utah Jazz player. I made a brief mention of where Grizzly and I were going to meet later, Boston Beerworks.

"Hold up," Jefferson said. "Reporters drink?"

I'm not sure if he was trying to be funny or he has never heard any jokes about journalists.

"I'm a beer guy; Grizzly's into whiskey," I told Big Al.

"Wow, man."

What ensued was the most random conversation ever. A Utah Jazz assistant named Ron Boone (who played in the ABA, back in the day) piped into the conversation. Boone was a nice guy and we started talking about Mead Hall, one of my favorite beer places in the world.

Boone mentioned he lived near Mill Creek Canyon in Salt Lake. I asked if he'd ever been to the Wing Coop.

Again, Al Jefferson piped in.

"What about wings? Where is this?"

And we were off. Food is my second-favorite topic in the world. The Wife has heard my Wing Coop wing-challenge story approximately 100 times and it's to the point that she can't even listen any more. But Al Jefferson's never heard it.

The wing challenge at the Wing Coop is simple. Eat 11 wings in 11 minutes without drinking or eating anything else and you win a T-shirt that says, "I've been to 11." If you like Spinal Tap, you simply have to do this challenge, I explained.

Jefferson was into it. Boone agreed the normal wings were pretty good. I went on, describing the sweat beading up on my head, tears coming out my eyes and hiccups that accompanied the absurdly hot wings. Al Jefferson felt my pain. As a capper, I told them, I called into work sick that day because my stomach was tied up in knots.

For about 10 seconds, we were all laughing like normal human beings. It reminded me of a scene from Shawshank, where Andy Dufresne gets beers for the roofing crew just to feel normal again.

Then, a coach blew a whistle to get Jefferson and another player over with the rest of the group to watch game film. As we walked away, Grizzly told me, "That stuff about the wings was gold."

There's more I could say about moments like that and how I've missed them over the last three years that I've been mostly on a copy desk. It's fun talking to these guys. It's fun telling stories. It certainly beats having a real job.