Where There's A Williams...

Williams the Conclusive. The most memorable moment of Scott Williams's career with the Chicago Bulls came in the 1991 playoffs. "I drew a charge on Magic Johnson," says the third-year center. "As a boy, I'd idolized Magic, so I wondered if I'd impressed him with my craftiness. I wondered if I'd earned his respect." He wondered if Magic would recognize him off the court.

The two players' paths crossed in California a month after the '91 NBA Finals. Magic recognized Scott instantly. "My man!" Magic said respectfully. "What's happening, Jayson?"

Williams the Condescender. Corey Williams, the Bulls' speedy reserve point guard, feels a certain kinship with his fellow Williamses. "I'm part of an elite group of guys, a clan," he exults. "It gives my parents something to brag about. They can say, 'Hey, my son's a Williams.' "

Couldn't they anyway?

"Yeah, but now they really can."

Corey was inspired to play basketball by his uncle, Dirty Red Williams. "You're carrying my name now," Dirty Red said. "So make me look good."

And what was Dirty Red's real name?

"Jerry Lewis Williams."

Williams the Connubial. In 1986 Herb Williams heaved a basketball the length of the court and swished it 81 feet through the net. That same year he married Deborah Williams, a clinical psychologist he had met in Houston on a road trip. "I think Deborah loved me," says Herb, who, at 34, is the oldest of the NBA's Williamses. "But I suspect the real reason she married me was that she didn't have to change her last name."

Williams the Contributor. The evil in Micheal Williams's heart, to vary William Shakespeare's phrase, would not clog the foot of a flea. The Timberwolf point guard hands out compliments as readily as he hands out assists on the break. "I learned to love the game watching Gus Williams of the old Seattle Super-Sonics," he says. "He was so smooth, so quick. Just to know our last names were the same made me proud."