Not even family members, who hear stories of a terrible day that sound so unlike conventional journalism. Not that there aren't pleasant, civilized creatures among them. For every quarterback like Jim McMahon, who once blew his nose on a colleague, there is a quarterback like Brett Favre, who once gave me thirty minutes of funny childhood stories while sitting in a cold Green Bay office in his underwear. For every golfer like Payne Stewart, who several years ago yelled at me for daring to ask why his partner had just walked off the course in the middle of the U.S. Open, there is a golfer like Payne Stewart, who softened into a sensitive and helpful man before his death. Not that I blame any of them for any of it.
Athletes are at their most vulnerable when dealing with the media.
An aide often separates politicians and businessmen and police from their questioners. Athletes are separated only by a towel, and sometimes not even that. I have interviewed former Dodger manager Tom Lasorda while he stood underneath a shower. Arriving early for an afternoon game, shortly after a big breakfast, I was once confronted by Lasorda, who promised to give me a scoop if I would only sit in his office and eat pizza with him. Lasorda loves to eat, but hates to eat alone.