It was a bit of a chicken-or-egg thing for me — did I hate Duke because Bobby Hurley went there, or did I hate Bobby Hurley because he went to Duke? — but one thing was for sure: I hated Bobby Hurley. The classic coach’s kid, he was scrappy, he was skinny, he was clever, he looked like he got a good night’s sleep once a year whether he needed it or not. In short, he was insufferable. But something changed once he made it to the NBA with the Sacramento Kings. I don’t know whether it was him or me (or just the fact that he was separated from Christian Laettner), but I started to respect his hustle as he worked hard to adapt his scrappy game to the NBA. Then came a horrific car accident near Arco Arena that nearly killed him, and like that, his basketball career was over. He’s an assistant coach at Wagner now — so perhaps one day he’ll coach his own son, and I’ll get to hate him, too. Nothing personal, though. Happy birthday, Bobby. Glad you’re still with us.