Kori Ellis
11-16-2006, 03:34 AM
Oliver's Twist: S.A.'s adopted son, Sean Elliott, stays grounded
Web Posted: 11/15/2006 04:37 PM CST
http://www.mysanantonio.com/sports/basketball/nba/spurs/stories/MYSA11152006.WEBoliverstwist.en.3e55e827.html
Richard Oliver
Express-News Sports Columnist
Not so long ago, Sean Elliott was walking through O'Hare Airport in Chicago when he noticed several teenage girls following him.
Knowing what was coming next, the former NBA headliner turned and readied for the inevitable fawning, autograph requests and smiling for pictures.
One teen piped up. "Are you Danny Manning?" she said.
"They were so disappointed when I said I wasn't him," Elliott recalled last week. "I just turned and walked away."
The former Spurs star shrugged. "Hey, it keeps me grounded," he added.
It's where Elliott, 38, prefers to be these days.
In San Antonio, he's no Danny Manning.
He's just the man.
Five years after retiring as a high-flying player, Elliott has dug in his roots as one of the city's lasting sports icons, ranking alongside David Robinson and George Gervin as beloved adopted sons.
The embrace of the community has been so warm and enduring that Elliott, an Arizona native, can't imagine breaking free of it. Now an analyst on Spurs telecasts, he has rejected the continued siren call of network television, and the aggressive travel it requires, in order to stick closer to family – and what has become home.
"When I first got here," said Elliott, drafted by the Spurs in 1989, "someone told me it's a player's town. I didn't know what that meant."
Seventeen years later, he practically owns the place.
The reason runs much deeper than Elliott's legacy as the architect of the "Memorial Day Miracle" during 1999's championship run or his emotional return from a kidney transplant shortly after.
Unlike many active or retired athletes today, Elliott gets it.
He knows that if he allows ego to carry him away, he's going to miss out on something significant.
You.
"I always thought I'd go back to Tucson," Elliott said. "But it's a good feeling here, and that's why I stayed. I've made friends, and it doesn't make much sense to change."
A week ago, at the Express-News Charitable Foundation Golf Tournament at the Resort Course at La Cantera, Elliott showcased that commitment. Through more than three hours, standing under a cloudless sky on one tee box, the 2006 San Antonio Sports Hall of Fame inductee patiently greeted players as they came through during their rounds.
At one point, a woman sidled close to Elliott and looked up at the 6-foot-6 man, still the same sleek presence that set the Spurs' record for 3-pointers more than a decade.
"I'm going to go home tonight and tell the kids that I stood right next to you," she said.
"Yeah," Elliott responded, "well tell them I'm taller in person."
Making such small talk, chuckling at weak jokes and firing drives down the fairway for charity, Elliott came across as more buddy than big-time, and the reaction was tangible.
"It's the television, I think," he said. "The first year that I worked TV for the Spurs, after that first week I called my agent and said, 'What's going on? It wasn't like this as a player.' It's different when you come into homes."
Elliott has the personality, and the story, to always make it a personal visit.
Seven years after receiving a kidney from his brother, Noel, he has no lasting reminders of the operation, aside from taking a fistful of pills each day to keep his body from rejecting the organ. Thanks to his wife, Claudia Zapata, a nutrition specialist and fitness expert who writes a weekly column for the Express-News, Elliott weighs in at 218 pounds, just above his playing weight.
"I feel great, no limitations," he said. "Sometimes, it's hard to remember that it happened."
A low-handicap golfer, likely the finest player among current and former Spurs, Elliott hits the course several times a week, entertaining dreams of someday joining the celebrity tours that are blossoming around the country.
"If you ever hear me complaining about my situation, slap me right in the face," he said. "You have my permission."
Instead, reality sometimes does the job.
During a round of golf on vacation last year, one of the foursome ahead of Elliott accidentally played his shot. On the green, the offending player noticed the mistake and threw the ball back down the fairway to the former Spur.
"He yelled that he was sorry, and I recognized the voice," Elliott said. "It was Tom Brady."
Later, the groups shared a van ride back to the clubhouse. Claudia, who had joined her husband for the round, "was awestruck" at seeing the handsome Patriots quarterback, Elliott said.
"It was ridiculous," he said, laughing. "I just wanted to slap her."
A few moments after sharing the story, Elliott turned to greet another group walking up to the tee box at La Cantera. He introduced himself and shook some hands as the players waited for the fairway to clear.
"So," one man finally said, "did you play for the Spurs or something?"
Elliott smiled. "Yeah," he said, "for about 12 years."
Hey, it keeps him grounded.
Web Posted: 11/15/2006 04:37 PM CST
http://www.mysanantonio.com/sports/basketball/nba/spurs/stories/MYSA11152006.WEBoliverstwist.en.3e55e827.html
Richard Oliver
Express-News Sports Columnist
Not so long ago, Sean Elliott was walking through O'Hare Airport in Chicago when he noticed several teenage girls following him.
Knowing what was coming next, the former NBA headliner turned and readied for the inevitable fawning, autograph requests and smiling for pictures.
One teen piped up. "Are you Danny Manning?" she said.
"They were so disappointed when I said I wasn't him," Elliott recalled last week. "I just turned and walked away."
The former Spurs star shrugged. "Hey, it keeps me grounded," he added.
It's where Elliott, 38, prefers to be these days.
In San Antonio, he's no Danny Manning.
He's just the man.
Five years after retiring as a high-flying player, Elliott has dug in his roots as one of the city's lasting sports icons, ranking alongside David Robinson and George Gervin as beloved adopted sons.
The embrace of the community has been so warm and enduring that Elliott, an Arizona native, can't imagine breaking free of it. Now an analyst on Spurs telecasts, he has rejected the continued siren call of network television, and the aggressive travel it requires, in order to stick closer to family – and what has become home.
"When I first got here," said Elliott, drafted by the Spurs in 1989, "someone told me it's a player's town. I didn't know what that meant."
Seventeen years later, he practically owns the place.
The reason runs much deeper than Elliott's legacy as the architect of the "Memorial Day Miracle" during 1999's championship run or his emotional return from a kidney transplant shortly after.
Unlike many active or retired athletes today, Elliott gets it.
He knows that if he allows ego to carry him away, he's going to miss out on something significant.
You.
"I always thought I'd go back to Tucson," Elliott said. "But it's a good feeling here, and that's why I stayed. I've made friends, and it doesn't make much sense to change."
A week ago, at the Express-News Charitable Foundation Golf Tournament at the Resort Course at La Cantera, Elliott showcased that commitment. Through more than three hours, standing under a cloudless sky on one tee box, the 2006 San Antonio Sports Hall of Fame inductee patiently greeted players as they came through during their rounds.
At one point, a woman sidled close to Elliott and looked up at the 6-foot-6 man, still the same sleek presence that set the Spurs' record for 3-pointers more than a decade.
"I'm going to go home tonight and tell the kids that I stood right next to you," she said.
"Yeah," Elliott responded, "well tell them I'm taller in person."
Making such small talk, chuckling at weak jokes and firing drives down the fairway for charity, Elliott came across as more buddy than big-time, and the reaction was tangible.
"It's the television, I think," he said. "The first year that I worked TV for the Spurs, after that first week I called my agent and said, 'What's going on? It wasn't like this as a player.' It's different when you come into homes."
Elliott has the personality, and the story, to always make it a personal visit.
Seven years after receiving a kidney from his brother, Noel, he has no lasting reminders of the operation, aside from taking a fistful of pills each day to keep his body from rejecting the organ. Thanks to his wife, Claudia Zapata, a nutrition specialist and fitness expert who writes a weekly column for the Express-News, Elliott weighs in at 218 pounds, just above his playing weight.
"I feel great, no limitations," he said. "Sometimes, it's hard to remember that it happened."
A low-handicap golfer, likely the finest player among current and former Spurs, Elliott hits the course several times a week, entertaining dreams of someday joining the celebrity tours that are blossoming around the country.
"If you ever hear me complaining about my situation, slap me right in the face," he said. "You have my permission."
Instead, reality sometimes does the job.
During a round of golf on vacation last year, one of the foursome ahead of Elliott accidentally played his shot. On the green, the offending player noticed the mistake and threw the ball back down the fairway to the former Spur.
"He yelled that he was sorry, and I recognized the voice," Elliott said. "It was Tom Brady."
Later, the groups shared a van ride back to the clubhouse. Claudia, who had joined her husband for the round, "was awestruck" at seeing the handsome Patriots quarterback, Elliott said.
"It was ridiculous," he said, laughing. "I just wanted to slap her."
A few moments after sharing the story, Elliott turned to greet another group walking up to the tee box at La Cantera. He introduced himself and shook some hands as the players waited for the fairway to clear.
"So," one man finally said, "did you play for the Spurs or something?"
Elliott smiled. "Yeah," he said, "for about 12 years."
Hey, it keeps him grounded.