CK: I actually feel kind of bad about the whole Rick Helling situation. After I wrote that paragraph in Esquire, Helling immediately broke his leg, which -- at least temporarily -- stopped him from walking the earth. And now it looks like his career is over, because he got hit in the face with some lumber shrapnel during a AAA game. Maybe I have survivor's guilt.

When I met Helling in 1985, he was the best eighth grade basketball player I'd ever seen. He was an eighth grader during the same year Damon Bailey was an eighth grader in Indiana, and I would have loved to watch them play together. Helling was a thick, heavy-set kid, but he was very nimble and could just do anything offensively  -- great shooter, exceptional passer, unstoppable in the post. The only problem is that he shot all the f---ing time. He almost never passed and he refused to play inside. He had convinced himself that he was a two-guard. We were on the same team, and it was profoundly frustrating. I was the point guard, and the totality of our offensive consisted of throwing the ball to Rick on the wing and watching him launch 21-foot jump shots. He was a black hole. Our team was like the St. Louis Spirits, and Rick Helling was Marvin Barnes.

However, the thing I really hated about Helling (at least at the time) was his unfathomable arrogance. I suppose that's just what happens when you're such a natural athlete at such a young age. He was uncoachable. Moreover, he was kind of a mean-spirited bully. During that week at camp, the counselors set up a two-on-two tournament. They tried to make all the teams equal, so they matched up Helling -- easily the best player there -- with some tiny, nervous, awkward little person who weighed maybe 55 pounds. This was the kind of kid who was only at basketball camp because his super-rich parents forced him. I mean, this person wore a goddamn wristwatch while he played basketball. I think his name was Digger, and he has no business being at this camp. He probably should have been playing soccer. But because nobody could contain Helling, this mismatched pair ended up playing in the two-on-two championship game. Now, the nervous little kid had nothing to do with that; Digger would check the ball at the top of key, throw it over to Helling, and Rick would go one-on-two. I don't think his twerp teammate took a shot during the entire tournament. But when he and Rick finally got beat in the title game, Helling punted the basketball ball into the rafters and looked at Digger with extreme hatred. For a split second, I remember thinking, "Oh my God. He is going to beat that little guy to death, right there on the court." That was Rich Helling.

Now, I realize this all happened 20 years ago, and he might be a totally different person today. For all I know, he's probably become a philanthropist or something. And I'm sure he has no memory of me, and -- if anyone showed him the Esquire piece -- he probably thought to himself, "This is so weird. Who is this person and why does he hate me? I pay my taxes. I don't throw at people's heads. I'm just trying to make a living." And this would be a reasonable reaction on his behalf, and it's probably pathetic that I actually remember this stuff. But ... screw it, man -- as an eighth grader, he was a jerk.

MW: In the mid '90s, my family had Thanksgiving every year with Bob McAdoo. What has been your most surreal encounter with an athlete?

CK: Why aren't you writing all your columns about this? How much turkey can Bob McAdoo consume?

MW: If you had to drive cross country with an athlete, who would you choose and why?

CK: My immediate thought is either Steve Nash or Yao Ming, but that's probably bad logic. I suppose I should pick a NASCAR guy, because then I'd never have to do any of the driving. I'd probably go with Bobby Labonte.

MW: If one of A-Rod's shrinks broke the doctor-patient confidentiality agreement and penned a tell-all book, would it be a more compelling publication then the Ken Starr report? Or would it be a disappointing read?

CK: The best part of the Starr Report was when Bill Clinton supposedly told Monica Lewinsky that he "liked her energy." I don't think A-Rod has the potential to say anything that trenchant. I would be more interested in reading an authorized biography written by A-Rod's accountant.

MW: What name should the Nets go with when they move to Brooklyn?

CK: This is a troubling situation. I have always had a hard time evolving with the movement of franchises. Mentally, I still think the Colts play in Baltimore. When the Raiders moved to L.A., I never stopped calling them the Oakland Raiders. I was very relieved when they moved back.

This being the case, I suppose I'm hoping they keep the name "Nets." I have a lot of friends who live in Carrol Gardens, though, so maybe they become the Brooklyn Carrol Gardeners. The mascot could be a little guy with a hoe.