Philly Jocks: Where Are They Now?: The Continuing Adventures of Charles Barkley

In the late ’90s, when he read Jonathan Kozol’s Savage Inequalities, he took me aside to hold forth on how our funding of public schools via property taxes is designed to produce good schools in good neighborhoods and run-down schools in poor areas. “My daughter goes to a private school because I can afford it,” he said. “But shouldn’t everyone have great education available to them?”

As Barkley matured, he continued to challenge the predilections and prejudices of those who would present him to the world. He finished his playing career with the Houston Rockets, where I visited him during his final season. He was playing gallantly, but his best days were behind him. “I’m the artist formerly known as Barkley now,” he told me.

On that day, the local media crowded around his locker. Before the throng could lob its first question at him, Barkley singled out a Houston television reporter and asked him if he’d perform oral sex on another guy for a million dollars. (Actually, Barkley’s phrasing was a little more graphic.)

A roomful of men all instantly looked at their shoes.

“No,” came the cracked-voice reply.

“A billion?” Barkley challenged.

“No,” said the reporter, stronger now.

“Well, how much then?”

“I wouldn’t do it for anything!”

Barkley grinned widely. “Well, if you’d do it for free, come on over here then,” he said, while nervous laughter filled the room. “Tell y’all what, I would. If I was poor, I’d do it for a million dollars. And y’all would, too, you just scared to admit it. If not, y’all never been poor.”

There aren’t too many people in the insular, often homophobic world of professional sports who point out class distinctions by challenging the media to perform fellatio. After an awkward silence, the basketball questions started, albeit in still-trembling voices.

When I saw Barkley about five years ago, he told me to keep my eyes on a skinny state legislator from Illinois who himself had a little bit of game on the hardcourt. This guy Obama, said Barkley­ — ever the populist — was someone who could break through and really do the people’s business.

THE BRAIN TRUST behind Barkley’s TV show is worried. Hartman and local TV veterans Tom Farrell (former executive producer of Trading Spaces) and Steve Rotfeld (who won an Emmy at 27 for the locally produced Greatest Sports Legends, a show many of us grew up on) don’t know how their show will end, with six episodes shot at press time. Barkley’s golf game remains erratic — in one episode, he’s hitting drives 320 yards off the practice tee, but while he’s in Atlanta to play with former teammate Julius Erving, the hitch returns, and his game falls apart. When Doc tries to offer some advice, Haney, the greatest golf coach known to man, looks at the camera: “Everybody’s a fucking expert,” he says.