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Knicks center Tyson Chandler called ESPN analyst Jay Williams' assertion that members of the 2002-03 Chicago Bulls smoked marijuana prior to games "ridiculous" on Monday evening. Chandler and Williams played together on the 2002-03 Bulls. "I don't know why he would say something like that. I think that's ridiculous that he would come out and say something. I don't remember that to be honest with you. And it's unfortunate that he would make that kind of statement about our game," Chandler said at the team's charity bowling event to support Madison Square Garden's Garden of Dreams Foundation. ESPN.com

Chicago Bulls, New York Knicks, Tyson Chandler, Jay Williams 

"I like Jay, but when you make blanket statements, you incriminate everyone," said Rick Brunson, currently a Bobcats assistant coach. "You have to look in the mirror first: 'Did I contribute to some of those things?' Your career didn't go the way it should've gone. Let it go. You're doing a great job on ESPN. You should be honored and blessed the Bulls paid you." Chicago Tribune

Chicago Bulls, Rick Brunson, Jay Williams 

"My thing is, why say these things now?" said Donyell Marshall, one of the team leaders from 2002-03. "You don't need to be making people assume. You're messing up situations for other people. Now, instead of Fred (Hoiberg, coach of Iowa State) focusing on the NCAA tournament or whatever, he's got to deal with that (crap)." Chicago Tribune

Chicago Bulls, Donyell Marshall, Jay Williams 

On that afternoon in June, Williams again revved the engine, only this time, the motorcycle surged forward unexpectedly, shot like a bullet from a gun. The front wheel lifted off the ground for an accidental wheelie. Williams was not wearing a helmet, did not have a proper license, was in violation of his contract with the Chicago Bulls. He gripped the handlebars, which only seemed to make the bike go faster, which only made him lose control. “I’m gone,” Williams said. “I’m flying. I’m going 50, 60 miles an hour. As I look up, I see a utility pole, and I couldn’t turn the bike and get out of the way.” New York Times

Chicago Bulls, Jay Williams 

Williams clipped the pole with the left side of his body, which sent him spinning, around and around, over and over. He could not feel his left side, or anything from the waist down. He did not think about death, amputation or depression. He thought only about his career. He lay there, numb, in shock, terrified but so full of adrenaline that his body blocked out most of the pain. It felt as if someone were pouring water on him. He passed out and woke up in an ambulance, passed out again and woke up in a hospital. Even the doctors looked scared. They needed to contact his parents, needed to operate immediately. They worried about amputation, about death. Williams remembered little but clung to an image from the scene, his first glance sideways as he spun. There it was: a red fire hydrant. He screamed: “You threw it all away! You threw it all away!” New York Times

Jay Williams 

For years, Williams struggled with depression. He refused to wear shorts or show anyone his left leg. He asked the inevitable: why me? He took too much pain medication, too much OxyContin in particular, for too long. He blew out the candles for his 22nd birthday in bed. He spent years in rehabilitation. He resented the teammates who lacked his drive but remained in the N.B.A., collecting paychecks, accolades, even championship rings. He cried himself to sleep. He went to therapy. He moved to New York City and tried to become an agent and drank alcohol frequently. New York Times

Jay Williams 

At his lowest point, Williams did more than consider suicide. “I remember lying in my bed,” he said. “And I’m just tired of being here. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I was so afraid to face people. And I didn’t really know who I was. And I didn’t really want anybody to see me. And I didn’t want to talk to anybody. I didn’t want to talk about it.” New York Times

Jay Williams 

Williams glanced at his mother, Althea Williams, as he recounted the story. He continued: “I mean, to the point where I sat there, and I had this pair of scissors in my hand. I just kept going on my wrist. I wasn’t trying to go sideways. I was going vertical. I didn’t want to be here. At all.” His mother added: “I came in. I saw it. I slept in the room every day after that.” “That was the lowest point in my life,” Williams said. “And if I had more time, if the scissors weren’t dull, I think I would have followed through with it. I can’t say for sure. But I was leaning toward that.” New York Times

Jay Williams 

Jay Levy, ESPN’s senior coordinating producer for men’s college basketball, said Williams learned to slow down over the past few years, to let the broadcast breathe. Williams watched as much tape as when he played. He started to pitch interviews, which showed initiative for an analyst among ESPN’s youngest, an analyst whose career goals include becoming the “African-American Matt Lauer.” “I hope people remind me of my accident every day of my life,” Williams said. “Because that means I’m a prime example of somebody who had it and lost everything and may not have gotten it back in the same capacity but still reinvented myself.” New York Times

Jay Williams