Free Life Is Not an Accident by Jay Williams Page A

something that was on my mind, too. I was always more of a scorer than a playmaker. Now I was going to be expected to run things with everyone looking over my shoulder. Look at the coaches who were on the Duke bench at the time: former All-American Johnny Dawkins, SI cover boy Wojo, and Coach K. What did all three have in common? Former point guards.
    I’ll never forget the night when Coach K came to my house with Dawkins for dinner after I had committed to Duke. We made a big batch of Polish sausage and invited my high school coach, Mark Taylor, to join us. I was so nervous to have Coach K at my house that I barely said a word throughout the dinner. My parentsasked him plenty of questions about his team and his philosophies. They asked Dawkins about his experiences, and my dad wanted to know if he had had to worry about racism in the South.
    Meanwhile, Coach was there to talk about expectations and the transition from high school to college ball. When Mike Krzyzewski talks, you listen. He is intimidating and comforting at the same time. He has a presence unlike anyone else. He was talking about how and why players like Wojo and Bobby Hurley had succeeded as PGs. All the while, Coach Taylor is rocking back in his chair, shaking his head.
    Finally, Coach K looked at Coach Taylor and asked, “What do you think?” Now, Coach Taylor is one of the most headstrong individuals I have ever met—a competitive ex-athlete who led Fordham to a MAAC championship—with a lot of bravado and never shy about sharing his opinion.
    Mark responded, “Can I call you Mike? I’ll call you Mike. Listen, Jason isn’t really a point guard. He’s a two or a three, a slasher.”
    Everyone’s jaw dropped to the floor. Was he really telling this legendary coach what’s what?
    Expressionless, Coach K firmly replied, “No, he’s not. He’s the top point guard in the country. You should use him that way.”
    â€œLet’s agree to disagree,” Mark said.
    I guess Booz and my high school coach were on the same page about me, and we were just going to have to see how that transition was going to work.
    We kept talking the whole way down, so excited about what was ahead. Chris Carrawell was going to be the only senior on the team; how would we get along with him? Junior forward Shane Battier was just so damn smart—would we even be able tohave conversations with him? We talked about winning championships, going to different parties, and then storming Chapel Hill and taking their girls, too.
    It was a requirement that we live on East Campus our freshman year with all the other “frosh.” We didn’t have the exclusive dorms that student-athletes are afforded today. I shared a corner room with Booz, and it was hysterical seeing his 6’9” frame attempting to sleep in a bed made for someone 6’0” at most. Our fellow freshman teammates suffered along with Booz. Mike Dunleavy, Casey Sanders, and Nick Horvath were 6’6”, 6’11”, and 6’10”, respectively.
    Coach K demanded we report earlier than everyone else, in July, to get settled in and begin our conditioning program. But we weren’t allowed to move into the dorms yet, so Booz and I had to stay in off-campus housing for a month. Two of our upperclassman teammates—Ryan Caldbeck and Matt Christensen—were kind enough to let us use their apartment about a mile away. They were back home for the summer. Every day, we’d raid their closets and help ourselves to their Duke game shorts, rocking their gear around campus in the blistering July heat.
    Months before my arrival, I received this massive book in the mail from Will Stephens, Duke’s strength-and-conditioning coach. It outlined all the exercises I was supposed to do—stretches, warm-ups, cardio drills, stuff like that. But like a typical teenager I just skimmed it, thinking, I just got done with high school. I need