Gregg Popovich Rumors

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When Egan’s phone rang a few weeks ago, he heard the urgent voice of a man he’d first known as a walk-on player at the Air Force Academy. Back then, Popovich, a striking combination of military man and Vietnam-era free spirit, spoke two Eastern European languages, majored in Soviet studies and drove a yellow Corvette. In his mind, he was going to become a real-life James Bond. But when that pursuit lacked the Sean Connery glamour he expected, Popovich returned home to master a complicated and diverse game — and to find his voice in an uncertain world. Now here he is, and eight days after Trump was sworn in, Popovich called his former coach and invited him to San Antonio. Egan might not open his billfold for a week, but he knew Pop was bunched up and in the mood to argue; Egan, a wisecracking centrist from Brooklyn, was a reliable sparring partner. “He’s on a mission to educate me,” the 79-year-old retired coach said by phone late in his week with Popovich.
But the truth is, even some of his close friends know only superficial details about him. He prefers cooking shows to ESPN, and he treats the release of the NBA schedule like a holiday because he can comb Zagat for new restaurants to try. Popovich likes avant-garde movies and presidential biographies, and though he earns $11 million per year to coach basketball, he wishes his life were as cool as Anthony Bourdain’s. Culture or politics or the gift of Tim Duncan, the future Hall of Fame center who was the foundation to all five of San Antonio’s championships, are ripe topics. But how he grew up? “We talked about God, we talked about religion, very personal things,” said Koblik, who has known Popovich for close to 40 years. “But never about his childhood. That just wasn’t part of what we talked about.”