Uxbridge, 6 August 2008

Off, then, to chat to Luol Deng, the great hope of British basketball, who's just signed a whopping $70 million contract with Chicago Bulls.
I agree to meet the PR at 4; but as I'm meandering my way to Brunel University, I get the call casually mentioning that we'd agreed 3. It's an old ruse. We settle on 3.30 and where once there was the joy of being on time, now there is the anxiety of lateness. I even get a taxi from the station.
And when I arrive (on time but hotter than I would have liked), a harassed - and, in fairness fairly apologetic - PR explains that Luol Deng has disappeared, apparently to get something to eat. Good job I made the effort then. I think about asking him for my taxi fare, but there's some kind of branded clothing shenanigans I'm not party to.
An hour later, he's still filling his face and I've read half of At The Highest Levels by Michael R. Beschloss and Strobe Talbott; a rip-roaring non-fiction end of Cold War yarn. And when he finally emerges, he's on his mobile. It's a long call. Ho hum. I always like interviewing American sports stars (he's from South London via Sudan, but he's undeniably an American sports star) simply because their contracts usually insist on some kind of media work and they're accepting of it, if not ones for curveballs. But who is, hey?
While he's chatting, I look at him. He's simply too tall. Even his arms are tall. Was it a growth spurt? Will he have problems in later life?
When we talk, he's initially cagey but he warms up. We muse about Arsenal, about the cold which he simply can't deal with (even a $70 million pay packet can't make Chicago winters any more bearable to him) and he shows me his arms and legs. They're nearly hairless. "No protection there," he notes.
We shake hands and before I've finished saying my goodbyes he's back on his mobile.