I Played Basketball With Prince And I Got To See Who He Really Is
It was amazing
So I’m playing basketball with Prince at Paisley Park and it’s amazing. We’re playing one on one on a hoop inside Paisley. He’s wearing a black scoop neck top and black bell bottom pants—because he just got finished rehearsing—but on his feet are Nike Air Force 1 hi-tops. He threw them on to play with me. Make no mistake, Prince could ball. His form on his jumper looked like Steph Curry’s form. I’m not saying that he could drain shot after shot like the GOAT, I’m saying when he shot it was that same form. When he dribbled, when he moved on the court, he looked like a ballplayer. He played in high school and he and his bands played all the time when they were on tour. So as we played he was aggressive, he was talking shit, he was… wait, let me tell you how we got here.
It’s 1998—we’re a couple of weeks before the basketball scene. I’m in a conference room at Paisley interviewing him. And it’s a terrible interview. He’s wearing this amazing maroon velour Prince suit but with every question I ask he’s fixated on contracts and freedom from record labels and owning your masters and that stuff is important but it can’t be the whole interview. And he spoke quickly and in sentences that were cryptic so sometimes I really had no idea what he was saying and this was when he was going by the unpronounceable symbol and refusing to let media record interviews so I had to write notes as he talked which meant I couldn’t fully listen because I’m writing as he’s talking. But even when I could listen I couldn’t always understand what he was saying. And he’s not giving me good, natural answers. I feel like I’m talking to a version of Prince rather than the real person. I feel like I’m talking to his mask and not getting behind the mask. That’s always the goal. I need to feel like I’m getting to know the real you. I flew home deflated and depressed. Back at home I said, can I email him a few more questions? Yes. Ok. I emailed him ten questions. The last one was Will you play basketball with me? He wrote “Anytime, brother… :)” OMG. OMG. Prince said yes. That’s when I started plotting my way back to Paisley.
Two weeks later I flew to Paisley with my own basketball. During the photo shoot for my story I stood to the side holding the ball and playing with it the way you do when you’re trying to goad someone into playing with you. He gave me no indication that we were going to play. But, as the shoot came to an end he turned to an assistant and said “Bring out the box of sneakers.” No way. Then he said, “And clear out the back to play basketball.” OMG this is happening. Moments later, we started playing one on one. He’s in the tight black scoopneck top and black bell bottoms and Nike sneakers. He played ball in high school and when the Revolution was on tour, he played all the time. He’s a ballplayer and as soon as he picked up my ball he made a face that any baller would understand means I’m gonna kick your ass.
He started knifing around the court, moving quick, dribbling fast, sliding under my arm to grab rebounds. He was one of those darting little guys you’ve got to keep your eye on every second. And he’s talking smack as we’re playing, little things, but now I feel like I’m getting down to the real man who’s competitive and boyish and aggressive and fun. But we didn’t score that much in one on one so then we started playing two on two. And Prince was my teammate. That’s where we had an amazing moment.
So 'I’m playing two on two and Prince is my teammate. Life is amazing. He’s knocking down open jumpers and slashing to the hoop to make tough layups. He’s taking my passes and making plays and we’re winning the game against my photographer and his keyboardist. Prince and I are talking smack and acting like we’ve played together 100 times and he really feels like one of the boys. I’m getting to know the real Prince. At the same time, this is when he was using the unpronounceable symbol and when I entered Paisley, I was told to not call him Prince. Ok. But I grew up watching Magic Johnson so to me a good pass is a no-look pass so I had the ball at the top of the key and I saw my teammate had made a move and shaken his defender and he was wide open. He was more open than he even knew. So, without looking at him, I quickly picked up my dribble and passed it right to him. But now the ball was flying toward his nose and he didn’t know it was coming. This next part happened in a few milliseconds. I saw the ball flying toward his nose. I saw that he didn’t see it coming. I started to yell, “Prince!” Then I realized I can’t say Prince. But I’ve already started to say Prince but I stopped myself mid-word so it’s like “Pri--.” Somehow the ball flew past him and went off into the corner. He jogged off to get it and as he brought it back he was giggling. I said what’s so funny? Prince looked at me and said, “You didn’t know what to call me.” I loved that. I was finally behind the mask, talking to the real Prince.
