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He’s all STAT: Standing tall and talented
Suns’ big mans turned life’s negatives into golden opportunity
Paul Coro
The Arizona Republic
Jan. 24, 2007 12:13 PM
Decked out in black suede pants, Amaré Stoudemire extends his legs across the table in the Chicago Park Hyatt lobby as only a 6-foot-10 man can. He sits between two gigantic pillars, which help support the 67-story building, much as his high-riser legs help sustain the Phoenix Suns’ sky-high hopes.
Basketball has put him in this place: a posh hotel stop with a team near the top. But for Stoudemire, it’s more than the game or the fame. It’s more than the eight-figure cash or the big cameras’ flash.
There is more to Stoudemire than basketball, even though it has consumed his life since he picked up the sport just 10 years ago. He was drafted right out of high-school at 19. He strives for greatness. That has come at a price for the Suns (a six-year, $73 million contract that started with this season) and himself (a grueling but successful 18-month comeback from knee surgery).
Greatness is not reserved for the court. Stoudemire wants to be a great businessman. A great father. A great inspiration for troubled youth. While he has dazzled you with his quick ascension back to the NBA’s elite, he has been busy with another side to his life off the court.
“Basketball was definitely my starting point,” Stoudemire says. “It’s where and how it all started. It’s how I make my currency. But I’m definitely trying to broaden my horizons.”
Business Savvy
In business, that means lending his name and partnership to Stoudemire’s Downtown, a “not-your-average-sports-bar” restaurant across the street from where he plays.
It means a deal with Nike that pays him $5 million annually, the most an NBA “big man” has ever received from the shoe giant. His own signature shoe, the Stat 1 (after his nickname Standing Tall and Talented), will be unveiled this month. His input resulted in the shoe he sought: light and wearable with jeans.
“I’m pretty business-savvy,” he says. “It’s just natural to me. It’s something I always wanted to become. With me growing up faster than the average teenager, I was able to understand business better than most.”
A street in the drug- and gang-infested Lake Wales, Fla., neighborhood in which he grew up near Orlando soon will bear his name—and his fingerprints. Stoudemire persuaded local officials to turn over a row of run-down buildings to him and his 10-employee Amaré Stoudemire Enterprises for renovation.
“I definitely will do something that helps the environment there,” he says. Stoudemire’s corporate face adorned a video-game cover last year. He shot commercials that had producers raving over his ad-lib comedy and camera-cool. He wants his endorsement profile to expand with the right image choices.
If only America were like China. Stoudemire is set to launch a Chinese Web site, mirroring thatsamare.com, because of his wild popularity there. Nike has plastered subway stretches in China with Stoudemire billboards.
“My nickname there is ‘The Mighty Leader King,’” Stoudemire says, beaming. “That’s huge. I never dreamed of being called anything like that.”
Family Man
How could he have? His father died when he was 12. His mother was, and still is, in and out of jail, a subject he keeps private other than to profess his love and support for her. His older brother also went to prison. Amaré went to six high schools. How could he have dreamed so big?
As with the profane, violent Tupac Shakur lyrics that he loves, lyrics with uplifting messages that he clings to, Stoudemire was a product of the positives in his negative environment.
He does not misstep away from the court. Becoming a father has solidified that “positive image” he wants to exude. He and his longtime girlfriend have a 6-month-old son, Amaré Jr., and a 1 1/2-year-old daughter, Aré.
“Their births have hastened his maturation quite a bit,” says Suns Vice President David Griffin, who scouted Stoudemire before he was drafted. “It’s been heartening to watch. It gives him greater awareness and makes him a better teammate.”
Stoudemire left USA Basketball camp and a chance to play in the World Championship last summer, not only because his surgically repaired knees were not right but because Amaré Jr. was due.
“I can’t get enough of kissing my kids,” he says. “It’s so special. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”
It’s not just his own kids Stoudemire cares about. He wants more for those who grow up like him. Thus, he formed a club team for Orlando-area kids, including his younger brother. But instead of putting them through the “mayhem and chaos” he endured, Stoudemire puts his team through life-situation exercises. Their shoes are always tied. Pant tops are north of the waist. Hat bills face forward.
“I went from sagging my jeans with my hat backward to tucking in my shirt and taking my hat off inside a building,” Stoudemire says. “That just goes from making minimum wage to making millions. It’s that character.”
That’s Amaré
For years, Stoudemire has wanted to go to college—literally, not online. His year-round schedule does not allow him to enroll in on-campus classes.
In the meantime, the 24-year-old will try to teach others, using his Each One, Teach One Foundation. He plans to make a motivational documentary of his life for kids in poverty “who need a story to lift their spirits and get them out of a bad situation.”
“Basketball has just allowed him the platform for the things he wants to do,” says Michael Hodges, who manages Stoudemire’s operations. “The heart and thoughts are there.
The things he wants to give back are very powerful. If he gets the chance, it could change kids’ lives. I’m most proud of his personality and character. All the things people said about him before the draft, and it’s been five years and you haven’t heard the Portland Trail Blazers or Cincinnati Bengals stories (teams plagued by criminal and behavioral embarrassments).”
If it’s not playtime on the court, playtime to Stoudemire means running errands, shopping for clothes, playing with his kids, dabbling in poetry or reading verses from the Bible he always carries.
He is more leery than ever of having photos taken or signing things, because of the vultures who might doctor a picture for MySpace or sell a signed ball on eBay. He is careful where and when he goes out and who accompanies him.
“I already know how gangstas are,” he says. “You can’t put yourself in bad situations. That’s where common sense and self-discipline come in. That’s why I keep my circle (of friends) real tight and snug.”
He still reflects the melting-pot kid who grew up loving skateboarding and bike tricks before he found sports. His fashion choices reflect that blend, one that helps him assimilate to any surrounding. His fashion recipe uses a dash of skater, a heaping of urban vibe and a portion of sophisticated businessman.
“I’m just versatile,” Stoudemire said. “I don’t care what people think about my fashion because it’s me. You can’t be me better than me.”
Nope, he’s great at it.
http://www.azcentral.com/sports/suns/articles/0124amare_mag_feat-CR.html
Suns’ big mans turned life’s negatives into golden opportunity
Paul Coro
The Arizona Republic
Jan. 24, 2007 12:13 PM
Decked out in black suede pants, Amaré Stoudemire extends his legs across the table in the Chicago Park Hyatt lobby as only a 6-foot-10 man can. He sits between two gigantic pillars, which help support the 67-story building, much as his high-riser legs help sustain the Phoenix Suns’ sky-high hopes.
Basketball has put him in this place: a posh hotel stop with a team near the top. But for Stoudemire, it’s more than the game or the fame. It’s more than the eight-figure cash or the big cameras’ flash.
There is more to Stoudemire than basketball, even though it has consumed his life since he picked up the sport just 10 years ago. He was drafted right out of high-school at 19. He strives for greatness. That has come at a price for the Suns (a six-year, $73 million contract that started with this season) and himself (a grueling but successful 18-month comeback from knee surgery).
Greatness is not reserved for the court. Stoudemire wants to be a great businessman. A great father. A great inspiration for troubled youth. While he has dazzled you with his quick ascension back to the NBA’s elite, he has been busy with another side to his life off the court.
“Basketball was definitely my starting point,” Stoudemire says. “It’s where and how it all started. It’s how I make my currency. But I’m definitely trying to broaden my horizons.”
Business Savvy
In business, that means lending his name and partnership to Stoudemire’s Downtown, a “not-your-average-sports-bar” restaurant across the street from where he plays.
It means a deal with Nike that pays him $5 million annually, the most an NBA “big man” has ever received from the shoe giant. His own signature shoe, the Stat 1 (after his nickname Standing Tall and Talented), will be unveiled this month. His input resulted in the shoe he sought: light and wearable with jeans.
“I’m pretty business-savvy,” he says. “It’s just natural to me. It’s something I always wanted to become. With me growing up faster than the average teenager, I was able to understand business better than most.”
A street in the drug- and gang-infested Lake Wales, Fla., neighborhood in which he grew up near Orlando soon will bear his name—and his fingerprints. Stoudemire persuaded local officials to turn over a row of run-down buildings to him and his 10-employee Amaré Stoudemire Enterprises for renovation.
“I definitely will do something that helps the environment there,” he says. Stoudemire’s corporate face adorned a video-game cover last year. He shot commercials that had producers raving over his ad-lib comedy and camera-cool. He wants his endorsement profile to expand with the right image choices.
If only America were like China. Stoudemire is set to launch a Chinese Web site, mirroring thatsamare.com, because of his wild popularity there. Nike has plastered subway stretches in China with Stoudemire billboards.
“My nickname there is ‘The Mighty Leader King,’” Stoudemire says, beaming. “That’s huge. I never dreamed of being called anything like that.”
Family Man
How could he have? His father died when he was 12. His mother was, and still is, in and out of jail, a subject he keeps private other than to profess his love and support for her. His older brother also went to prison. Amaré went to six high schools. How could he have dreamed so big?
As with the profane, violent Tupac Shakur lyrics that he loves, lyrics with uplifting messages that he clings to, Stoudemire was a product of the positives in his negative environment.
He does not misstep away from the court. Becoming a father has solidified that “positive image” he wants to exude. He and his longtime girlfriend have a 6-month-old son, Amaré Jr., and a 1 1/2-year-old daughter, Aré.
“Their births have hastened his maturation quite a bit,” says Suns Vice President David Griffin, who scouted Stoudemire before he was drafted. “It’s been heartening to watch. It gives him greater awareness and makes him a better teammate.”
Stoudemire left USA Basketball camp and a chance to play in the World Championship last summer, not only because his surgically repaired knees were not right but because Amaré Jr. was due.
“I can’t get enough of kissing my kids,” he says. “It’s so special. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”
It’s not just his own kids Stoudemire cares about. He wants more for those who grow up like him. Thus, he formed a club team for Orlando-area kids, including his younger brother. But instead of putting them through the “mayhem and chaos” he endured, Stoudemire puts his team through life-situation exercises. Their shoes are always tied. Pant tops are north of the waist. Hat bills face forward.
“I went from sagging my jeans with my hat backward to tucking in my shirt and taking my hat off inside a building,” Stoudemire says. “That just goes from making minimum wage to making millions. It’s that character.”
That’s Amaré
For years, Stoudemire has wanted to go to college—literally, not online. His year-round schedule does not allow him to enroll in on-campus classes.
In the meantime, the 24-year-old will try to teach others, using his Each One, Teach One Foundation. He plans to make a motivational documentary of his life for kids in poverty “who need a story to lift their spirits and get them out of a bad situation.”
“Basketball has just allowed him the platform for the things he wants to do,” says Michael Hodges, who manages Stoudemire’s operations. “The heart and thoughts are there.
The things he wants to give back are very powerful. If he gets the chance, it could change kids’ lives. I’m most proud of his personality and character. All the things people said about him before the draft, and it’s been five years and you haven’t heard the Portland Trail Blazers or Cincinnati Bengals stories (teams plagued by criminal and behavioral embarrassments).”
If it’s not playtime on the court, playtime to Stoudemire means running errands, shopping for clothes, playing with his kids, dabbling in poetry or reading verses from the Bible he always carries.
He is more leery than ever of having photos taken or signing things, because of the vultures who might doctor a picture for MySpace or sell a signed ball on eBay. He is careful where and when he goes out and who accompanies him.
“I already know how gangstas are,” he says. “You can’t put yourself in bad situations. That’s where common sense and self-discipline come in. That’s why I keep my circle (of friends) real tight and snug.”
He still reflects the melting-pot kid who grew up loving skateboarding and bike tricks before he found sports. His fashion choices reflect that blend, one that helps him assimilate to any surrounding. His fashion recipe uses a dash of skater, a heaping of urban vibe and a portion of sophisticated businessman.
“I’m just versatile,” Stoudemire said. “I don’t care what people think about my fashion because it’s me. You can’t be me better than me.”
Nope, he’s great at it.
http://www.azcentral.com/sports/suns/articles/0124amare_mag_feat-CR.html
