And yet basketball doesn't mean as much to him as it used to. Before, if he would have a bad game, he would go sleepless. Now, if he has a bad game, "that's all it is, a bad game," he says. "It's funny. Basketball doesn't mean as much to me now, but I'm more dedicated to it." Figure that out.
7:45 P. M.
Chris Mullin is an alcoholic in a world of alcohol. For instance, watch as he and Liz pull into Clubsport's Valentine's Weekend party and eye the punch. A woman behind the counter waits.
"What kind of punch is this?" Mullin asks.
"Just regular, get-down-on-the-floor, everyday kick-butt punch," she says.
"Yeah, but what's in it?"
"I don't know. The usual stuff."
"Like 7-Up or what?"
"I don't know. Just try it!"
He skips the punch. Sometimes not drinking today is harder than it sounds. Later he and Liz decide on Chinese takeout. On the way Mullin reaches for the phone and punches his mother's number. Until last summer he would have called up his dad and talked basketball and life, as he did nearly every day. "I could always talk to my dad," he says. "My dad would always say, 'Here's the problem; let's figure it out.' "