In the days leading up to a long-awaited meeting with 7-year-old Cayden Addison, Minnesota Timberwolves star Naz Reid wants to get one question answered.

Can I lift him? 

Reid is 6 foot 9 and 240 pounds. The top of Cayden’s head barely reaches past Reid’s waist, so the question isn’t of physics. The issue is that Cayden’s little body has been through more in the last four years than most go through in a lifetime.

A rare form of cancer puts Cayden in the hospital for stays that last longer than a month, often pummeling him with horrible pain in his joints and extremities, which makes it difficult for him to walk at times.

So Reid and the Timberwolves want to know if Cayden can physically handle Reid picking him up when the two meet on the team’s practice court in Minneapolis and get to know each other. They had been paired together as part of a campaign to raise awareness for the importance of registering as a stem cell donor, which they hope will help Cayden find a bone marrow donor to finally win an endless fight with leukemia.

Yes, Reid is told. Cayden is feeling good and spry after flying from his home in Virginia to the Twin Cities with his family to meet this famous NBA player who has a burning desire to help him. So after Cayden’s first few shots on the 10-foot basket fall short during their visit, Reid grabs him by the waist and hoists him into the air to make things easier.

“Every kid dreams about that one, right?” Darryl Addison, Cayden’s father, said. “Dreams about an NBA player lifting you up. … It was just amazing watching him get lifted up there like that.”

Darryl and his wife, Courtney, are hoping Reid has another big assist up his sleeve.

Reid’s out-of-nowhere emergence from an undrafted rookie free agent to the NBA’s Sixth Man of the Year last season mirrored the Timberwolves’ rise from the Western Conference gutter to the conference finals in late May. The six-year odyssey has endeared Reid, 25, to the Twin Cities in a way that few have matched. He is so popular that people are only half-joking when they suggest he could run for mayor of Minneapolis and win in a landslide.

When he enters a game at Target Center, usually midway through the first quarter, the fans roar louder than they do for any of the starters during pregame introductions. In the days after the team gave away a Naz Reid beach towel at a game, they were going for $100 on eBay. During the playoffs, a tattoo parlor had a promotion to ink “Naz Reid” on to fans for $25. The artists worked around the clock on hundreds of people.

The Addisons hope that Reid has only just started to lift Cayden.

Reid linked up with Cayden through NMDP, formerly known as the National Marrow Donor Program and Be The Match, to help raise awareness for the need for more people, particularly those of color, to get registered to become a potential blood stem cell donor.

This is a personal fight for Reid.

In the spring of 2022, when the Timberwolves were in the playoffs against the Memphis Grizzlies, Reid lost Rudy Roundtree, a beloved father figure to cancer. Roundtree had helped look after Reid from his teen years through the start of his NBA career. When Roundtree fell ill, doctors tried to get him strong enough to become eligible for a stem cell transplant, but he died before that happened.

“He kind of taught me those ropes with care and being there for someone, the next person, and he kind of installed it into my head and into my life,” Reid said. “So it’s kind of like second nature to me now, giving that hand or that care. So I think this is definitely huge for me.”

Added Sheila Roundtree, Rudy’s widow: “We’re keeping him alive with this.”

When Naz speaks, the people of Minnesota listen. And that is exactly what everyone is counting on.

“Whether it’s for Cayden or someone else,” Courtney Addison said, “if Naz can use his influence to get other people connected with NMDP to use their platform, I really just want this to be a time where we can inspire people to act.”

It all started so innocently for the Addisons. In 2020, Cayden started complaining about some pain in his legs and Courtney thought he was walking funny. His older brother, Christian, went through some similar things when he was younger, and so the parents just chalked it up to growing pains and powered through.

One day when Courtney dropped Cayden off at daycare, the provider mentioned to her that he refused to walk the day before, instead scooting around on the floor. That was enough for Courtney to call the family pediatrician, who told her to bring him in right away.

The initial X-rays and exams did not reveal anything to be concerned about, so the family headed to Courtney’s parents’ house in Richmond, Va., for Easter. Once they arrived, Cayden grew quite sick. A fever spiked and a virtual doctor visit wasn’t very helpful. It was during the height of COVID-19, so Courtney was reluctant to go to the hospital. When the issues were not resolved quickly, Courtney took Cayden to a children’s hospital emergency room.

Cayden was admitted right away for blood work. By the next day, a chaplain, an oncologist and a slew of doctors arrived to tell the Addisons that Cayden had leukemia.

“I lie to you not, I did not hear anything else,” Courtney said. “My body was shaking uncontrollably. I still remember it as clear as day. And I still get emotional thinking about it because I have never sobbed so hard in my life.”

Cayden was in surgery a few hours later to have a port put into his chest, and he began chemotherapy later that day. He was 3.

“We didn’t have any time to process what was going on and to understand what was happening,” Courtney said.

Cayden was eventually diagnosed with Philadelphia chromosome-positive acute lymphoblastic leukemia, a type of cancer that affects just 3 percent of the population. The ensuing four years have been filled with chemotherapy, infections, surgeries, a hospital stay that lasted 37 days, hope and heartbreak.

“He’s such a positive, happy, sweet kid,” Courtney said. “He’s always been like the sweetest kid, and it’s just so heartbreaking that he has to go through this. And so no parent should have to go through this.”

In April 2022, Cayden completed his treatment. Courtney loves the 1999 movie “Office Space,” and so they recreated a scene from the film in which the group of employees destroy a fax machine that had been the bane of their existence. But the Addison family, including older brother Christian, took out their frustrations on Cayden’s disposable chemotherapy pump.

“We were celebrating,” Courtney says. “I got all of the chemo stuff out of the house. I was like, ‘Get it out. I don’t want to look at it ever again.’ ”

Unfortunately for the Addisons, that was just the beginning of Cayden’s battle. The cancer returned, forcing more treatments and leading to the family learning such technical terms as “detectable, but non-quantifiable,” which means that the leukemia is still hiding somewhere in Cayden’s body and will eventually return in full force.

After another round of treatments and therapy concluded just before Thanksgiving last year, doctors shifted their focus toward finding a bone marrow donor, the best chance for getting rid of his leukemia for good.

“At this point, it’s kind of a waiting game,” Courtney said. “It’s either wait to find a donor or wait until the science catches up and we have better treatment options.”

That is where Naz Reid comes in.

Naz Reid has become a fan favorite in Minnesota for hustle plays like this one against Ivica Zubac. (Gary A. Vasquez / USA Today)

Rudy Roundtree was one of the biggest influences on Reid’s life from the time he started emerging as a highly regarded prospect in New Jersey. With the blessing of Reid’s mother, Anashia, Rudy and Sheila Roundtree were there as a support system for Naz. Rudy retired early from his job to follow Naz from Roselle Catholic High to Louisiana State University. When Reid signed as an undrafted rookie free agent with the Timberwolves in 2019, the Roundtrees moved with him to Minnesota.

As a rookie, Reid spent plenty of time in Des Moines, Iowa, playing for the Timberwolves G League team. Rudy would make the 245-mile drive with Naz from Minneapolis, a constant presence and a warm blanket of familiarity in the Midwestern winter.

“Rudy could make him laugh,” Sheila said. “He was a little bit of a jokester.”

For those who know Reid, that is quite an accomplishment.

On a Timberwolves team filled with big talkers and fiery personalities, Reid is the one smoldering in the corner, stone-faced and contemplative. That may be why he was so drawn to Rudy, a larger-than-life extrovert who never met a stranger and never turned down a chance to start a conversation.

Sheila would call him the mayor for his hand-shaking, baby-kissing, gift of gab. He was always there to watch Naz, whether it was in front of a few hundred people in Iowa or 20,000 at Target Center. And when the couple would get home after a game, the fun was just beginning. He and Sheila would sit down and watch the game again, this time on television, so he could hear what the announcers were saying about his “Nazy.”

“If you talk to him, every conversation is about Nazy,” Sheila said. “He really, really believed in him.”

During the 2021-22 season, Rudy started telling Sheila that he was feeling tired all the time. He was diagnosed with leukemia, and after initial treatments were ineffective, he was hospitalized in January 2022.

Rudy did not want Naz to know how serious his situation was, and Reid was focused on helping the Timberwolves push for their first playoff appearance in four seasons. COVID-19 restrictions prevented Reid from visiting his mentor much in the hospital, but Rudy would call him every other day to check in with the conversation often drifting to his game, his mindset and why he wasn’t grabbing more dang rebounds.

“(Rudy) would always say to (Naz), ‘I need to hear your voice to see where your head is at,’” Sheila said.

Roundtree’s doctors were buying time for him to build strength, so he could be a candidate for a bone marrow transplant. He stayed hospitalized until he died that April at 60.

“I think I only got to see him maybe once or twice (at the hospital),” Reid said. “But the last two times that I did get to see were very, very crucial times. So I’m very grateful for that.”

There are about seven million Americans on the NMDP registry, which is connected to a network of registries around the world that counts some 41 million potential donors, according to Erica Jensen, senior vice president of innovation, strategy and marketing for NMDP.

At first glance, that appears to be a vast pool of donors for people like Cayden and Rudy. But the push for more has two primary drivers. First, the need for more ethnically diverse donors to increase the likelihood of finding a match for those in need. Second, the lower-than-ideal rate of converting those on the registry to actual donors. About 58 percent of the people on the register who are called when a match is found decline to go through with the donation, Jensen said.

“Getting the word out, getting people engaged, hearing the stories and then signing up to save a life is impactful,” Jensen said. “And not only signing up to get on the list but then when we call you, you have to say, ‘Yes.’ ”

The Addisons know how that feels. At one point in this journey, they were told a match was found for Cayden. But when contacted, that person decided against donating.

“Devastated,” Courtney said. “Just because I know how hard it is to find a match. And so for us to have such a good match and then that person not be able to donate was devastating because we don’t know how long it’s going to take to find another match.”

As part of World Marrow Donor Day on Sept. 21, NMDP is holding events in Minneapolis, New York and Los Angeles to promote registering to donate, and to saying yes if one is ever paired with someone in need.

Reid will attend the festivities in Minneapolis; NMDP is finalizing agreements with celebrities in the other two markets as well.

“I think we all have something innate in us that wants to do great things,” said Cayden’s father, Darryl. “But when it’s really applied, something like this means the world to a family. We’re thankful for Naz and his family.”

Naz Reid with the Addison family: Cayden, Christian, Courtney and Darryl. (Fran Manzano-Arechiga / Timberwolves)

Sheila Roundtree’s heart swelled as she watched Reid play with Cayden and Christian on the Timberwolves practice court.

She thought back to five years ago when they gathered in New Jersey on NBA Draft night and were stunned when Reid was not selected.

“What y’all looking sad for?” Reid said to the sullen crowd. “We’re good.”

Rudy was particularly conflicted. He wanted this basketball dream for Reid so badly it hurt. He also believed supremely in Reid’s ability to find a way.

“We told him, ‘Listen, we can’t go through the front door. You’re going to have to go through the back,’ ” Sheila said. “He said, ‘I got it.’ ”

A couple of years of toil in Iowa, a transformation of his body into a sleeker, more explosive version and a first-rate player development staff under head coach Chris Finch has helped Reid become an essential player in Minnesota. Last summer he signed a three-year, $42 million contract, which preceded a career season although he is the third big in the rotation, behind Rudy Gobert and Karl-Anthony Towns.

He averaged career highs in points (13.5 per game), rebounds (5.2) and 3-point shooting (41.4 percent) last season and cemented himself as a part of the Timberwolves’ core moving forward. The night of the towel giveaway turned into a full-throated celebration of Reid’s climb from obscurity to fan favorite.

“It was emotional. I had to sit for a minute and say, ‘Oh my God, Rudy, we’re here,’ ” Sheila said. “Because my husband would be going crazy.”

When Reid accepted the NBA Sixth Man award on TNT, he mentioned how important his mentor was in helping him get there. And now that he is firmly established as a player in the league, it’s time to pay it forward.

Sheila remains deeply involved in Reid’s life, going to games and helping him when he’s off the court. She is a cancer survivor herself, another reason Reid is so committed to NMDP.

“When they reached out, I was thinking this is going to be perfect for us,” Sheila said. “If we can do as much as we can to save a life and raise awareness around this disease, that would be wonderful.”

Cayden was a coil of nervous energy, ping-ponging all over the court as he tried to heave the ball up to the rim. For all that he has been through, his parents say that Cayden has been remarkably upbeat, laughing and joking through all the treatments, the remissions and reappearances, the hospital stays and the blood draws.

It reminds Sheila of someone.

“I was like, oh my goodness, he’s got a lot of energy,” she said with a laugh. “That’s how Rudy was. Rudy was a lot of energy. Real playful.”

Naz wore a wide smile on his face, the kind of smile that Rudy would put there. He watched Christian help his younger brother and encourage him, even when the shots weren’t falling. He saw so much toughness in such a little body that he couldn’t help but lift him toward the rim. As tall as he is, Reid knows he can only lift Cayden so high. But the right donor can take him to new heights.

“You can kind of tell him what he’s going through, but he doesn’t really understand what he’s going through,” Reid said. “So definitely at such a young age, you want to help him as much as possible, just to give him a second chance.”

Every year, according to NMDP, 18,000 people are diagnosed with life-threatening blood cancers or blood disorders that could be treated or cured with a blood stem cell transplant. For more information about joining the donor registry list online, go to https://my.bethematch.org/s/join?language=en_US&joinCode=NazReid

(Photo illustration: Dan Goldfarb  / The Athletic; photos: Getty; Jordan Johnson / NBAE | Fran Manzano-Arechiga / Timberwolves)

John Sterling may come out of retirement to call the New York Yankees’ postseason, according to sources briefed on WFAN, the Yankees and Sterling’s plans.

Early this season in April, Sterling, 86, stepped away from the booth after 36 years. The Yankees held a retirement ceremony for him. A trio of Rickie Ricardo, Justin Shackil and Emmanuel Berbari has replaced him.

This week, Sterling made a brief appearance in the Yankees booth, teaming up with analyst Suzyn Waldman to call a few innings.

Over the next few days, he is expected to discuss with Audacy New York president Chris Oliviero if he will return for the playoffs, according to a person briefed on the plans. Oliviero, who oversees WFAN, has not officially asked Sterling yet.

“The ball is in their court,” Sterling said. “They would have to ask. I would feel bad for the guys who have done the games all year.”

Oliviero declined to comment.

While it is possible that WFAN and the Yankees could have Sterling call home playoff games, initial indications from those briefed on discussions is that he would need to commit to all home and road playoff games. Travel was one of the major reasons Sterling retired in April. On Thursday, via phone, he said the scheduling of the playoffs makes that aspect easier.

If he returns, Sterling could call a few regular-season games to tune up.

Regardless of whether he returns or not in October, Sterling is expected to resume retirement after the season.

The Yankees and WFAN would then consider Ricardo, Shackil and Berbari for the job while also conducting a national search.

Recently, WFAN and the Yankees had FS1 “Breakfast Ball” co-host Craig Carton call some games. While Carton is not a full-time candidate, team and radio executives liked what they heard and would invite him back. It is unlikely to happen this season as Carton’s “Breakfast Ball” responsibilities go into full swing in September.

Required reading

(Photo: Brandon Sloter / Icon Sportswire via Getty Images)

Last week new Michigan coach Dusty May spent a day with the Miami Heat staff, then flew to Pittsburgh to trade ideas with Utah Jazz coach Will Hardy and Charlotte Hornets assistant Josh Longstaff. May will read any book or study any basketball team’s film if he thinks it might equip him with an idea or a play or a leadership tactic.

And part of his continuing education is a podcast from two coaches most basketball fans have never heard of.

While driving to lunch last February, May listened to Olympia Milano coach Ettore Messina break down the spacing concepts in his offense. The previous week, the voice of Tokyo Hachioji Bee Trains head coach Tyler Gatlin had come through May’s speakers. The next week he would hear from former NBA head coach Stan Van Gundy.

The globe-spanning lessons came from the Slappin’ Glass Podcast, which has turned into a word-of-mouth hit for coaches at every level of the sport, four years and 201 episodes in.

“I listen to every episode,” May said. “My staff listens to just about every episode. I think a majority of college coaches probably listen to it regularly.”

Jeff Van Gundy stumbled upon one of the hosts’ video breakdowns — they also have a weekly newsletter and YouTube channel — and was so impressed he called them up to say how great it was. Since then, he has encouraged some of his best friends in the business to go on their show, which is how two obscure basketball coaches who played together at Division III Chapman University end up on a call with Hall of Fame football coach Bill Parcells.

“Everybody’s wary of going on a podcast where they veer off into things that they aren’t able to discuss,” Van Gundy said. “They know they’re going to be straight basketball. There’s no ‘gotcha’ questions. It’s not overly dramatic clickbait, like ‘who’s the best player?’ … They’re truly trying to help coaches coach better.”

The show’s guest list features some of the most respected basketball coaches in the country — Brad Stevens, Geno Auriemma, Rick Pitino, Tom Thibodeau, Mike D’Antoni, the Van Gundy brothers, John Beilein, to name a few — and just as many big names in the international game. What started as a self-improvement project for the hosts has become a shop-talk paradise for coaches and hoops diehards at every level.

“You can put one of those on in an hour and you’re generally a better coach by the end of it,” said Saint Louis coach Josh Schertz.

Dan Krikorian’s initial plan was to be a musician when he graduated from Chapman in 2007. Between tours, he made extra money giving shooting lessons, coaching a youth team, and eventually coaching the junior varsity team at his high school alma mater. “Once I stepped foot in the gym to coach, I was like, ‘OK, this is what I want to do,’” he said. In 2013, Krikorian returned to Chapman as an assistant coach. This summer, he was elevated to head coach.

Pat Carney played professionally for 12 seasons in some of Germany’s top basketball leagues. In 2018 he retired and stayed in Germany to pursue a coaching career. The two young coaches and former teammates stayed connected by phone, studying other teams around the world and talking ball. Over beers one night in Berlin after Krikorian’s band had played a show, Krikorian suggested they turn those jam sessions into a podcast and interview the coaches whose systems piqued their interest.

The idea was mostly forgotten until a year later, when Krikorian and Carney were discussing the motion offense of Division III Yeshiva University, which had just gone 29-1 running a modern-day replica of Bob Knight’s system at Indiana. Krikorian and Carney wanted to pick the brain of coach Elliot Steinmetz, so they set up a Zoom. Right before the meeting, Krikorian suggested he record it. He already had all of the sound and editing equipment; if it went well, he could turn the interview into their first episode.

The pandemic had made it more commonplace for coaches across the world to connect over video call. The podcast’s first episode, published on Aug. 17, 2020, was not as polished as what the Slappin’ Glass guys produce today, but they enjoyed it so much they decided to make it a weekly routine.

The audience was small at first — “our moms,” Krikorian jokes — but they got some bumps whenever a famous guest joined the show, like Jeff Van Gundy in February of 2021. The hosts put together a list of coaches they’d love to interview, took suggestions from coaching buddies, and then started shooting their shot. To their surprise, they rarely heard no.

“They ask really good questions,” said Alabama assistant Ryan Pannone, the show’s third guest while coach of the G-League Erie Bayhawks. “And as a result, because their product is good and they’ve had good coaches speak on it, more coaches are willing to come on because they listen to it.”

Their curiosity and research seems to loosen lips. Beilein, who has always been guarded with what he shared publicly about his two-guard offense, explained the teaching points to the Slappin’ Glass guys without hesitation, then praised the questions they had asked him.

“I haven’t talked basketball to anybody like this in a bit,” Belien said near the end of the interview.

Most coaches approach podcast interviews expecting to be dragged into story time, but the Slappin’ Glass guests quickly find themselves delving into the intricacies of their methods.

“That’s the ideal for us,” Carney says. “It’s not an interview. Let’s talk some hoops.”

The show’s ethos: Everything that a coach does is interesting.

“The best thing about basketball, and what keeps us having conversations fresh and new every week, is that there’s so many ways to win,” Carney said. “There’s so many ways to teach, so we’re never assuming there’s one right way. Otherwise we would have probably had that conversation, and we would have just wrapped up shop.”

Krikorian and Carney go into every interview with a few ideas of what they want to talk about from background reading and film study, but their ability to listen and ask insightful follow-up questions carries the conversation and sometimes leads them down a rabbit hole.

“That’s our favorite part of the podcast is when it goes someplace we didn’t even expect,” Krikorian said.

They often get coaches into uncharted territory during their regular segment called “Start, Sub, Sit,” a basketball-centric variation on a common forced-choice game. When Stevens joined the show, they asked him which of three Ted Lasso quotes he would start, sub and sit. (Stevens’ Start: “You know what the happiest animal on earth is? It’s a goldfish. You know why? It’s got a 10-second memory. Be a goldfish” — because you should never worry about what someone says about you or worry about missing a shot. “I love that,” Stevens said, “Let it go. Have shot amnesia.”)

Everything always comes back to the game, never going on a tangent that wouldn’t be applicable to coaching.

“We know the coach has 45 minutes to get on the treadmill, or they’re commuting for 40 minutes to work,” Krikorian says. “We don’t want to waste one second of their time with something that’s not valuable.”

Kirkorian (left) was named the head coach at his alma mater in August. (Alex Vazquez for Chapman University)

Relationships with coaches like Van Gundy have helped Krikorian and Carney land some of their most well-known guests, but what brings them the most pride is that the show’s downloads and listens no longer depend as heavily on name recognition. And they’ve been able to give some talented but lesser-known coaches a platform to share their knowledge and ideas.

“If you think about it, like the best players, they progress. They find a level. That’s not always true in coaches,” Van Gundy said. “Some do. And some, either by choice or by just lack of opportunity, don’t. But I think too many fans think the best coaches rise just like the players do. Not true.”

Krikorian and Carney have created a nice side hustle. Their podcast has multiple sponsors, and they average 30,000 to 40,000 downloads per month. Their newsletter has over 7,000 subscribers, with close to 1,000 of those paying for their premium content.

While their content is consumable for anyone who loves the game — not just coaches — it’s a niche audience. But the goal was never to become famous; it was to become better coaches.

“With coaching, you have to be proficient,” Carney says. “You have to know yourself. You have to work hard. But a lot of it is relationships, too, and this has allowed us to build genuine relationships and continue conversations past the podcast that have directly impacted our careers.”

During the interview for this story, Carney was in Poland with the German under-20 national team. The head coach of that team, Martin Schiller, was a guest in 2022 and kept in touch with Carney, eventually reaching out to ask Carney to join his staff this summer.

Krikorian says he’d be lying if he didn’t think about one day coaching at a higher level than D-III, but he’s living a pretty good life now as the head coach of his alma mater, in the backyard of where he grew up, building a sustainable business that was born from a whim during the pandemic.

“The people that I’m able to call for advice now,” Krikorian says. “It’s a dream of ours, honestly.”

ESPN analyst Fran Fraschilla, a fan and two-time guest, says what the Slappin’ Glass guys have done reminds him of an era long ago when coaches like Hubie Brown and Dean Smith went overseas to teach the game.

“What’s happened over two generations or three generations is the world is now teaching the game of basketball back to us,” Fraschilla says. “Slappin’ Glass has provided an incredible menu of international basketball ideas. They are the conduit for great basketball coaching information.”

(Top illustration photos courtesy of Alex Vasquez and @ralf.zimmermann.fotografie)