No. 96: ISIAH THOMAS / The surreal shoot-around: When a Hall of Famer, a vision in a purple suit, shagged jumpers for me.

One of the NBA's 50 Greatest was a divisive figure, still is. I couldn't stand him as a player, but out of nowhere, he was under the hoop, passing me the rock on the perimeter and making small talk.

What the Raptors would have looked like from the 500 level

I DIDN’T look closely at the press release that was passed to me in the Globe and Mail sports department on a Monday afternoon back in December ’94. I was sick to death of writing about the NHL lockout, about Bettman and Goodenow, a narrative with no heroes. The sports editor waved the press release that had been faxed over and asked if anyone was available in the morning to head over to the SkyDome. I was the new guy, still a few weeks from clearing probation, so I wasn’t about to get picky—if things ever got really slow in the office, it took all I had to resist the urge to pick up a broom, standard stuff in most jobs I ever had before. So I immediately shot up my hand … although seconds later it occurred to me that early December was too late on the calendar for Blue Jays or the Argonauts.