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    Yes, They Are Tall. No, They Do Not Play Basketball.

    For the vertically gifted, every day of the year means standing out. But March can be particularly maddening.Dave Rasmussen has learned to deal with the small inconveniences that life lobs at him.He can tell you how much space — down to the inch — an exit row seat affords him on different commercial airplanes. Once, he needed a ceiling tile removed so that he could run on a treadmill. He scouts the roominess of potential rental cars by going to the Milwaukee Auto Show.And by now Rasmussen, 61, is ready for the strangers who gawk and take photographs and ask versions of the same question that he has fielded his entire life: Did you play basketball?For exceptionally tall people like Rasmussen, who is 7 feet 2 inches, March may be the worst month. The N.C.A.A. men’s and women’s basketball tournaments have captured the attention of office pool bracketologists. The N.B.A. playoff chase is heating up. And tall people everywhere, including those who have never attempted a jump shot, are swept up in the madness through no fault of their own. Rasmussen is a retired information technology specialist.“I always feel so bad for those people,” said Cole Aldrich, a 6-11 center who played eight seasons in the N.B.A. before he retired in 2019. “If you’re tall, there’s this belief that you should automatically be good at basketball. And if you aren’t, then what the hell is wrong with you?”Many tall people gravitate to basketball, which favors the vertically advantaged since they are closer to the hoop and their length helps them defend, block shots and score against shorter opponents. But there are also millions of people who spend their days ducking under doorways and cursing ceiling fans — and have nothing to do with the game.In any case, it gets old. Ask Tiffany Tweed (or maybe don’t ask her), a 6-4 hospital pharmacist from Hickory, N.C., who gets interrogated all the time. There are basketball questions, of course. But also: How tall is your father? How tall is your mother? And: Can you grab that book off the top shelf for me?Rasmussen, center, sat in on a string ensemble rehearsal in a University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee classroom.Sara Stathas for The New York TimesTweed played basketball when she was younger, but she now tells people that she was a ballerina and does a twirl on her tiptoes to prove it. (She was not a ballerina.)“I decided that I was going to have some fun with it, because I’m sick of answering the same questions the same way,” said Tweed, 37, who has a popular TikTok account where she shares the joys and pains of, say, shopping for jeans with a 37-inch inseam. “I love being a positive role model for girls who are tall. But when I get home, I’m like, please leave me alone.”The average W.N.B.A. player, at a shade taller than 6 feet, towers over the average American woman (5 feet 3.5 inches). American men who are between 6 feet and 6-2 — significantly taller than the 5-9 average — have about a five in a million chance of making the N.B.A., according to “The Sports Gene,” a 2013 book by David Epstein about the science of athletic performance. But if you hit the genetic lottery and happen to be 7 feet tall, your chances of landing in the N.B.A. are roughly one in six. (There are 38 players on active rosters who are 7 feet or taller, according to N.B.A. Advanced Stats; the average height of an N.B.A. player is 6 feet 6.5 inches.)Still, most 7-footers are not pro basketball players, and instead are often unfairly burdened with being compelled to explain their life choices to strangers.Daniel Gilchrist, 40, played basketball briefly at Johnson County Community College in Overland Park, Kan., before injuries forced him to call it quits. His father, Jim, had steered him toward the game for obvious reasons: Daniel was 7-7.“At the time, I kind of resented him for that,” Daniel Gilchrist said. “But now that I’m older, I kind of understand why he wanted me to play. And I’m glad I did it, but it was never something I was passionate about.”Gilchrist now follows his passion as an actor, appearing onstage at the Topeka Civic Theater. Last year, he played the role of Lennie in a production of “Of Mice and Men,” which he described as a lifelong dream. He has also been cast in an upcoming film — as a sasquatch. He acknowledged the long process of self-acceptance.“It did take me a while,” he said, “especially as a teenager. And there are still days when I wish I could blend in. But a long time ago, I figured that I could either accept it or become a hermit.”Rasmussen ducked into a parking garage stairwell. He is the tallest member of Tall Clubs International.Sara Stathas for The New York TimesSome tall people refer to other tall people as “talls.” But true talls tend to be wary of phony talls — women in stilettos, for example. Kimberly Schmal, a 6-foot utility biller from Oak Harbor, Wash., gets the urge to investigate whenever she spots a fellow tall.“So you go over and take a closer look: Is she wearing heels? No! She’s just tall!” said Schmal, 38. “And you strike up a conversation.”Growing up, Schmal was a cheerleader. She did not want to play basketball — or volleyball, a basketball-adjacent pursuit. The problem for Schmal was that the girls’ volleyball coach at her high school managed the local Burger King, and he desperately wanted her to come out for the team.“He would sit next to us at the booth and just be like, ‘Volleyball, volleyball, volleyball,’” Schmal recalled.John Stewart, 64, who is 6-6 and played basketball in high school and for two years at a trade school, never harbored any illusions about a future in the game.“I didn’t have any scouts following me around!” he said. “I just didn’t have the talent.”Stewart has since spent 46 years working at a rock quarry near his home in Burlington, N.C., where he has gotten used to people remarking on his height and asking the usual questions. And for a few fleeting seconds, he is happy to let them imagine that he played big-time college ball, or even in the N.B.A., until he tells them the truth.“It doesn’t bother me at all,” he said. “It’s kind of like my 15 minutes of fame.”This summer, Stewart plans to attend the annual convention for Tall Clubs International aboard an Alaskan cruise. The organization includes 38 chapters in the United States and Canada. There are height requirements: 6-2 for men and 5-10 for women. But membership is otherwise open to all, said Bob Huggett, the organization’s 6-7 president.“The only thing we have in common,” Huggett said, “is that we’re tall.”Huggett has a pat response whenever someone asks whether he played basketball.“No,” he says, “did you play miniature golf?”In recent years, membership at many chapters has decreased — a symptom of a larger trend among social organizations. Nancy Kaplan, 55, a retired kindergarten teacher from Albany, N.Y., recalled how much fun she had as a member of the Tall Club of New York City in the 1990s. No one stared. No one pointed. And no one peppered her with questions about being 6-3.Nancy Kaplan, who is 6-3, tried basketball when she was younger but did not like it. She became a teacher.Cindy Schultz for The New York Times“It was just so lovely to walk into a huge dance hall and everybody was your height,” she said. “I could even wear heels. I mean, heels! I was the short one in a lot of those groups.”Kaplan has otherwise struggled with her height “every day of my entire life,” she said. As a young girl, she was teased and called names like Big Bird. The girls’ basketball coach at her high school hounded her about joining the team until she caved, though it was a short-lived experiment.“I hate running, and I hate sweating,” she said. “I would run up and down the court fixing my hair.”As a teacher, Kaplan said, she was scrutinized by colleagues.“It was never the kids who said, ‘Wow, you’re so tall,’” she said. “It was the other teachers and staff who would make comments: ‘You’re too big to teach kindergarten. How do you get down in their chairs?’ It’s very painful and hurtful that someone can come up to you and just comment on your height.”If nothing else, she can commiserate with her younger sister, Anita Kaplan, 49, who is 6-5 and described certain triggers in her own life, such as when she enters a public restroom.“The women, in their peripheral vision, will see you and give you that look for a fraction of a second,” Anita Kaplan said. “And you know exactly what they’re thinking: Why is this man in here?”Nancy Kaplan said the only time she felt fully seen as a woman was when she was pregnant.Anita Kaplan, unlike her older sister, was drawn into the vortex of basketball by her father, Allen, a 6-7 optometrist who sensed her potential. She worked at her game in the family driveway, where she sought to compensate for her lack of dexterity — “I am not athletic, not even a little,” she said — through sheer willpower. Her feel for the game grew along with her reputation.“They called me the Truck,” Kaplan said. “And I got to be around tall men. I had an ulterior motive.”Kaplan, right, took a customer’s order at Pearl’s Bagels and Bakery in Albany, N.Y.Cindy Schultz for The New York TimesAnita Kaplan went up for a layup for Stanford against Southern Methodist in 1995.Otto Greule Jr./Allsport, via Getty ImagesShe landed at Stanford, where she was a decorated center, then played professionally for a few seasons. Now, as the mother of three teenage sons (two of whom are taller than 6 feet), she has nuanced feelings about her stature. She loved playing basketball, she said, but she also has the lived experience of always standing out, of never being able to hide. People, she said, approach her all the time to ask if she played hoops. She tells them no.Steve Dexter, 67, has gotten so tired of questions about basketball that he now tells inquisitive strangers that he once graced the hardwood for the University of Oklahoma. The twist is that Dexter, who is 6-7, never played basketball.“Athletes were not my crowd,” said Dexter, who lives in Laguna Beach, Calif. “I was kind of a nerd.”These days, as a real estate investor and author, Dexter considers his physical stature to be an asset, citing research that tall people are deemed “more trustworthy and authoritative.”Rasmussen, who at 7-2 is the tallest member of Tall Clubs International, recalled joining friends at a political rally in Milwaukee many years ago. Afterward, he was approached by Secret Service agents who gauged his interest in doing surveillance. It was a change of pace from the usual questions.“I think they figured that if I could dress like a schlep, nobody would suspect me,” Rasmussen said. “But I never followed up.”In retirement, Rasmussen has remained active. He swims, bikes and plays the violin and the viola in quartets and an orchestra.At rehearsals, he sits on a high stool in the back row, where he can enjoy being a part of something larger than himself. More

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    Cleveland Browns Owners Agree to Buy a Share of the N.B.A.’s Bucks

    Marc Lasry, co-owner of the Milwaukee Bucks, has reached a deal to sell his share to Jimmy and Dee Haslam.This article will be updated.Marc Lasry, a co-owner of the N.B.A.’s Milwaukee Bucks, has reached an agreement to sell his share of the team to Jimmy and Dee Haslam, who own the N.F.L.’s Cleveland Browns, according to a person familiar with the deal.The transaction values the Bucks at $3.5 billion. A spokesman for the Browns declined to comment.Lasry purchased the team in 2014 for $550 million along with Wes Edens and Jamie Dinan, with each purchasing an equal share of the organization.Lasry is currently the team’s governor, which is the top decision-making position within an N.B.A. organization. He and Edens alternate in the role, and the Haslams will have the same arrangement within the ownership group, the person familiar with the deal said.Before the sale becomes official, the N.B.A. will complete a background check on the Haslams. Then, the league’s board of governors will vote on whether to approve the sale. Once the league has approved a buyer, the board’s vote is considered a formality.The agreement between Lasry and the Haslams comes two months after Mat Ishbia reached an agreement to purchase a majority share of the Phoenix Suns. Ishbia purchased 57 percent of the Suns, which were valued at $4 billion as part of that deal.He was approved by the Board of Governors with 29-to-0 vote. The Cleveland Cavaliers owner Dan Gilbert, Isbhia’s rival in the mortgage business, abstained.Jenny Vrentas More

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    Red McCombs, Car Salesman Turned Media Mogul, Dies at 95

    A Texas entrepreneur, he co-founded the media giant Clear Channel, owned pro sports teams and created more than 400 businesses in a variety of industries.Red McCombs, a former Texas used car dealer who became a billionaire entrepreneur by venturing into an array of successful businesses, including the media giant Clear Channel Communications and several professional sports teams, died on Sunday at his home in San Antonio. He was 95.His family announced his death but did not state the cause.Mr. McCombs was a flamboyant wheeler-dealer who created more than 400 businesses across an array of industries, including oil, real estate, cattle, insurance, movies and racehorses, often selling them at a substantial profit. At various times he owned a pro football team, the Minnesota Vikings, and two pro basketball teams, the San Antonio Spurs and Denver Nuggets.But his heart was in the automobile business, where he began as a standout car salesman in Corpus Christi, Texas, in 1950. He went on to start his own dealership, and then expanded it into a network that at its peak in 1998 included more than 100 outlets, making it the largest car dealership in Texas and sixth largest in the United States.“I was an entrepreneur before I knew what the word was and certainly before I could spell it,” Mr. McCombs said in a 2006 radio interview. “New deals, new opportunities, new ventures are always a part of my life.”A University of Texas alumnus and a passionate Longhorns football fan, Mr. McCombs parlayed his love of sports into ownership of a minor-league baseball team in Corpus Christi in the 1950s.Then he bought the Dallas Chaparrals of the old American Basketball Association in 1973, relocated the team to San Antonio for the 1973-74 season and changed its name to the Spurs.When the A.B.A. and N.B.A. merged in 1976, he played a key role in having the Spurs included in the merger. He sold the team in 1982 and acquired the Nuggets, only to sell that franchise in 1985 for $19 million, nearly twice what he’d paid for it. He then repurchased the Spurs for $47 million before selling it in 1993 for $75 million (about $157 million in today’s money).In a statement on Monday, the N.B.A. commissioner, Adam Silver, called Mr. McCombs “a driving force in creating the modern N.B.A.”In 1998, Mr. McCombs purchased the N.F.L.’s Minnesota Vikings for $246 million, but grew impatient with futile attempts to build a new stadium for the team in the Minneapolis area. He sold the Vikings for $600 million in 2005.He also played a key role in bringing Formula One racing to Austin by investing in the Circuit of the Americas, the Austin track where the annual U.S. Grand Prix race has been held since 2012.In a statement on Monday, the Dallas Cowboys owner, Jerry Jones, called Mr. McCombs “a true Texas titan across sports, media, business and philanthropy” who had “followed his dreams.”Mr. McCombs’s most lucrative venture was Clear Channel, which he co-founded with Lowry Mays in 1972, when they purchased a local radio station in San Antonio, KEEZ-FM, for $125,000. (Mr. Mays died in September at 87.)The two men continued to acquire radio stations, then television stations and billboards around the country. Aided by the 1996 Federal Telecommunications Act, which allowed media conglomerates to own an unlimited number of stations, they built the company into the world’s largest owner of radio stations; by 2000, Clear Channel owned more than 1,200.The company eventually expanded into event promotion, live music and sports management. Mr. Lowry oversaw the business, but Mr. McCombs was instrumental in seizing opportunities to expand, according to John Hogan, the company’s former chairman and chief executive.“He was steadfast in support of the notion that when the telecommunications regulations changed in 1996, we had to move quickly and aggressively, and that those who were slow and hesitant would get left behind,” Mr. Hogan said in an interview for this obituary.Though the company was often criticized for homogenizing radio programming in a way that eliminated much of the local flavor of independent radio stations, the formula was extremely profitable. When Mr. Lowry began to see signs that the internet would disrupt its well-oiled strategy, he and Mr. McCombs sold the company in 2006 for $17.9 billion to a private equity group led by Bain Capital Partners and Thomas H. Lee Partners. As part of the deal, the group agreed to take on more than $8 billion in the company’s debt.The timing was perfect for selling. Clear Channel’s fortunes plunged almost immediately. In 2014, the company split into Clear Channel Outdoor, for the billboard business, and iHeartMedia, for the radio stations and other media properties.Red McCombs, left, arrived in Denver in 1983 after buying the Denver Nuggets basketball team. At right was Carl Scheer, the team’s president and general manager.Duane Howell/The Denver Post, via Getty ImagesBilly Joe McCombs was born in the tiny West Texas town of Spur on Oct. 19, 1927. His father, Willie Nathan McCombs, was a sharecropper and later an auto mechanic. His mother, Gladys McCombs, came from a family of farmers.Billy, whose shock of red hair earned him the lifelong nickname “Red,” showed an entrepreneurial bent as early as age 9, when he began selling bags of peanuts to migrant cotton pickers. He was 15 when his family moved to Corpus Christi, where he became a standout high school football player, eventually winning a scholarship to Southwestern University in Georgetown, Texas. He left college to serve in the Army for two years before returning and enrolling at the University of Texas in 1948 on the G.I. Bill.But he dropped out to start a business career. He landed a job at the local Ford dealership in Corpus Christi and realized that he had found his calling. Just 22, he set a goal of selling a car a day and, by his account, managed to accomplish that feat for three years straight.In 1950, he married Charline Hamblin, who died in 2019 at 91. He is survived by their three daughters, Lynda McCombs, Marsha Shields and Connie McNab; eight grandchildren; and 11 great-grandchildren.After selling new cars for several years, Mr. McCombs realized that he could make more money selling used cars, he wrote in his autobiography, “Big Red: Memoirs of a Texas Entrepreneur and Philanthropist” (2010). New cars, he thought, were all alike, but “every used car is unique” and had a story to tell.“People like stories about the things they might be interested in buying,” he wrote.In 1957, at 29, he opened his first new car dealership, in Corpus Christi. But it sold Edsels, a Ford brand that would become synonymous with automotive failure. Though he sold many cars, he said, he knew that the brand would not survive. (The Edsel was discontinued in 1959.)“I was selling it myself and I could see the resistance,” he said. “We had to shoehorn everyone into it, and after I’d sold them to all my friends, I had nowhere to go. It was time to move on.”He moved to San Antonio in 1958 and there befriended Mr. Mays. The two soon began buying up radio stations, ultimately turning Clear Channel Communications into a behemoth. Mr. McCombs knew the power of radio and outdoor advertising from his experience with auto dealerships.He did his own radio and television commercials for 25 years, becoming a Texas celebrity along the way. He struggled for years with alcoholism and nearly died at age 48 after a serious case of hepatitis. He gave up alcohol then, and often spoke candidly about his addiction.In 2000, Mr. McCombs and his wife gave a gift of $50 million to the University of Texas business school — the single largest donation in the school’s history at the time. It was renamed the McCombs School of Business. He and his wife also donated $30 million to the university’s MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston.Mr. McCombs was a major donor to Republican politicians, including Senator Ted Cruz of Texas and President Donald J. Trump.Of all of his business achievements, Clear Channel was his most significant, Mr. McCombs declared in his autobiography. “I would never have thought I could ever have had a chance to do something like Clear Channel,” he wrote. “That’s why I don’t really believe in long-term plans. There was no way I could have ever planned Clear Channel.” More

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    What Makes Damian Lillard Great? His Loyalty to Portland.

    The Trail Blazers point guard has prized loyalty over easier paths to winning. And that’s what makes him great.PORTLAND, Ore. — Damian Lillard should get angry more often.Through thick and thin with the only N.B.A. team he has known, Lillard, the Portland Trail Blazers’ luminescent point guard, has always possessed a remarkable calm. Still, he is not above letting defeats get to him, as he showed after a recent meltdown loss to the Los Angeles Lakers.“I’m confused why y’all asking me these questions right now,” Lillard said in a news conference after his team coughed up a 25-point halftime lead. A reporter had asked Lillard about the state of his listing team. I followed up by asking how much more patience he had.Lillard’s voice sharpened, sending tension cracking through the room. It felt like his eyes were beaming lasers right through me.“The struggles that we’ve had are obvious,” he said, adding that he had been “transparent” about how Portland could improve.He continued, calling the queries a “weak move” and indicating that he thought he was being baited into criticizing the makeup of his team as the league’s trade deadline loomed. “Y’all putting me in a position to, you know, answer questions that I don’t think is cool,” he said.Later, I had another interaction with Lillard, a brief moment of reconciliation that revealed his character. I’ll get to that later. First, let’s focus on all that is swirling, once again, around Portland’s star.Lillard is the N.B.A.’s most interesting outlier.“He’s one of a kind,” said Chauncey Billups, who spent nearly two decades playing in the N.B.A. and is now the Blazers’ second-year head coach.Billups wasn’t merely speaking about talent. Lillard is the rare basketball star who prizes loyalty to his city and team above all — even if that means waiting and waiting, and waiting some more, for his team to become a championship contender.“We understand how lucky we are to have him,” Billups said. “Everyone in this city, and on this team, wants to win for Dame.”Problem is, the Blazers are the basketball equivalent of a sturdy Honda Accord. For almost all of Lillard’s 11 seasons in the N.B.A., Portland has been a middling operation: good — sometimes very good — but never great.It defies the norm for Lillard to remain on a team that seems stuck in neutral, while never demanding a trade or opting to leave.Six times, the 32-year-old has been named an All-Star, and six times he has been chosen for an All-N.B.A. team. He was voted onto the league’s 75th-anniversary team, meant to honor the 75 best players in league history. He won gold at the Tokyo Olympics in 2021 as a member of the U.S. men’s national team. Cat quick, graceful, brimming with the kind of bold brio that is a hallmark of his native Oakland, Calif., Lillard recently passed Clyde Drexler to become Portland’s leading career scorer.Damian Lillard won gold at the Tokyo Olympics in 2021 as a member of the U.S. men’s national team.Brian Snyder/ReutersAnd yet during Lillard’s tenure in Portland, the Blazers have made the Western Conference finals only once. The current Blazers are talented — and one of the league’s youngest teams. Billups is learning on the job. If this team is to become a true contender in the loaded Western Conference, it may not be until Lillard is on the downslope.Can we be OK with that?The past week offered us a window into Lillard’s world. A week ago Sunday: the 121-112 meltdown defeat by the Lakers.Portland’s postgame locker room felt like a morgue. In the concourse at Moda Center, the Blazers’ saucer-shaped arena, fans let loose, dishing details to me about the team’s legacy of losing. On a Facebook page for Blazers fans, the reviews were unsparing: “Lillard needs to go for his career to have any chance before it’s too late. This team is DONE!!”The next day, the Blazers thumped the San Antonio Spurs, 147-127. Lillard had 37 points and 12 assists.Then came Wednesday. Peak Lillard. One for the books. In the Blazers’ 134-124 victory over the visiting Utah Jazz, he scored 60 points, making an eye-popping 72 percent of his shots.The remarkable thing was how easy it seemed. Lillard, averaging 30 points a game for the season, never once looked forced against the Jazz. He played what he described later as an “honest game,” always making the right pass, moving the ball to the right spots, pulling up to shoot at exactly the right time. When Jazz players swarmed him, he looked like a buzzing hornet at a summer barbecue that everyone wants to stomp but nobody can catch.Brilliant? You bet. According to ESPN, after taking into account combined marksmanship on shot attempts and free throws, it was the most efficient 60-point game in league history. Informed of this, Lillard was shocked, and all smiles.“The most efficient 60-point game ever, for real?” he said. “That’s crazy.”Lillard huddled with his teammates after scoring 60 points in the Trail Blazers’ 134-124 win over the Utah Jazz.Jaime Valdez/USA Today Sports, via ReutersOn Saturday, Lillard continued his torrid pace and again hit his season scoring average, but the injury-depleted Blazers fell meekly to the Toronto Raptors. He is doing all he can, to no avail. The Blazers sit at just 23 wins and 26 losses, mired in mediocrity, 12th out of 15 teams in the West.Like many, I’ve often thought that Lillard’s prime years were being wasted and that Portland should do right by him and find a way to move him to a contending team. He’s nearing his mid-30s — years when hardwood courts become quicksand for shifty point guards — and a new breed of young stars is wreaking havoc across the N.B.A.Ja Morant, Luka Doncic, Jayson Tatum, Nikola Jokic and plenty of other 20-something talents are leavening the league with their skill and something close to Lillard’s preternatural confidence.N.B.A. life is only going to get more difficult for Lillard.But I’m willing to reconsider the desire to see him leave Portland. To follow the common line of thinking, after all, is to place winning above all else. Sadly, that’s the reasoning that has helped fuel the whipsaw superstar shuffle currently coursing through the N.B.A. LeBron James from Cleveland to Miami, back to Cleveland and then to Los Angeles. James Harden from Houston to Brooklyn to Philadelphia. Example after example. I understand the “win above all else,” “grass is greener everywhere but here” sentiment — and I question it.Winning is important, no doubt. But isn’t there more to sports than victory?More than any other N.B.A. star of his caliber, Lillard embodies the notion that the journey — the often painful path toward getting better — is the thing. It takes guts and patience and the ability to go against the grain. He has that. It also takes a certain kind of awareness that shows itself with deft passes and clutch shots and even in how players handle life off the court. Indeed, he seems to have that, too.Remember how Lillard bristled at my question after the loss to Los Angeles? By chance, I found myself next to him in an arena hallway later.He stopped me, shook my hand and looked me straight in the eye. He said he was sorry for his scolding reaction. The look on his face showed genuine sincerity.“I didn’t mean any personal disrespect,” he said.What stars would do that? Not many. “Sorry” isn’t usually in the playbook. But not many are like Damian Lillard. More

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    Kathy Whitworth, Record-Holder for U.S. Golf Wins, Dies at 83

    Whitworth was a hall of famer who became the first woman’s pro golfer to earn more than $1 million.Kathy Whitworth, who joined the Ladies Professional Golf Association tour in the late 1950s when it was a blip on the national sports scene and who went on to win 88 tournaments, a record for both women and men on the United States tours, died on Saturday. She was 83.Whitworth was at a neighborhood Christmas party in Flower Mound, Texas, where she lived, when she collapsed and died soon after, Christina Lance, an LPGA spokeswoman, said.Whitworth, who turned pro at 19, was the LPGA Tour’s leading money winner eight times and became the first women’s pro to win more than $1 million in prize money when she finished third in the 1981 Women’s Open, the only major tournament she didn’t win. She earned more than $1.7 million lifetime in an era when purses were modest.“I would have swapped being the first to make a million for winning the Open, but it was a consolation which took some of the sting out of not winning,” she said in a profile for the World Golf Hall of Fame.Tiger Woods, with 82 victories on the PGA Tour, is the only active golfer anywhere near Whitworth’s total. Sam Snead, who died in 2002, is also credited with 82 PGA victories, and Mickey Wright won 82 times on the LPGA Tour.Known especially for her outstanding putting and bunker game and a fine fade shot that kept her in the fairways, Whitworth was a seven-time LPGA Player of the Year and won the Vare Trophy for lowest stroke average in a season seven times.The Associated Press named Whitworth the Female Athlete of the Year in 1965 and 1966 and she was inducted into the LPGA Tour and World Golf halls of fame.She won six tournaments considered majors during her career, capturing the Women’s PGA Championship three times, the Titleholders Championship twice and the Western Open once.“She just had to win,” her contemporary and fellow Hall of Famer Betsy Rawls told Golf Digest in 2009. “She hated herself when she made a mistake. She was wonderful to play with — sweet as she could be, nice to everybody — but oh, man, she berated herself something awful. And that’s what drove her.”Whitworth after winning the Women’s Titleholder Golf Tournament in Augusta, Ga., in 1966.Associated PressKathrynne Ann Whitworth was born on Sept. 27, 1939, in the West Texas town of Monahans, but grew up in the southern New Mexico community of Jal (named for a local rancher, John A. Lynch). Jal was the headquarters of the El Paso Natural Gas Company, which drove the regional economy; Whitworth’s parents, Morris and Dama Whitworth, owned a hardware store for many years.Whitworth, the youngest of three sisters, enjoyed tennis as a youngster, then began playing golf at 15 under the tutelage of Hardy Loudermilk, the pro at a nine-hole course in Jal.“That was more than 10 years before open tennis tournaments were allowed,” she told The New York Times in 1981. “Golf was then the only pro sport for women so I decided to stick with golf.”Loudermilk viewed her as possessing exceptional potential and referred her to Harvey Penick, the head pro at the Austin Country Club, who became one of golf’s most prominent teachers, best known for his 1992 instructional, “Harvey Penick’s Little Red Book” (1992), written with Bud Shrake.“Early on, Harvey told me in a kind but firm way, ‘I think I can help you, but you have to do what I say,’” Whitworth recalled in “Kathy Whitworth’s Little Book of Golf Wisdom” (2007), written with Jay Golden. “I just said, ‘Yes sir.’ “If he told me I had to stand on my head, I would have stood on my head.”Penick stressed the need to adopt a grip that assured a square club face, something Whitworth never forgot. “Every time I got into a slump or started hitting the ball poorly, I had Harvey Penick to go to,” she wrote.Whitworth captured the New Mexico State Amateur title twice, briefly attended Odessa College in Texas and turned pro in December 1958.The LPGA was struggling at the time despite featuring brilliant golfers like Wright, Rawls and Louise Suggs. Galleries were relatively sparse and touring players sought out low-budget hotels and traveled by auto.Whitworth didn’t win a tournament until her fourth year on the tour, when she captured the Kelly Girl Open. She cited her second victory, later in 1962, at the Phoenix Thunderbird Open as giving her the confidence to withstand pressure.Whitworth was approaching the final hole at that event, dueling for the title with Wright, who was playing behind her. She didn’t know Wright’s score at the time since there was no leader board, but, “I made a decision to go at the hole,” she told Golf Digest, although “the pin was stuck behind a trap.”“I whipped it in there about 15 feet and made the birdie,” she recalled.She won by four strokes and established herself as a force on the tour with eight victories in 1963.Whitworth recorded her 88th LPGA victory in May 1985 at the United Virginia Bank tournament. She competed on the women’s senior circuit, the Legends Tour, then retired from competitive golf in 2005.In her later years, Whitworth lived in the Dallas suburb of Flower Mound, gave golf lessons, conducted clinics and organized a junior women’s tournament in Fort Worth. A wooden case at her home course, Trophy Club Country Club in Roanoke, Texas, houses numerous trophies and 88 nickel-plated plaques engraved with details of her victories.Whitworth is survived by her longtime partner, Bettye Odle.Whitworth was a sturdy 5 feet 9 inches but didn’t deliver awesome drives and wasn’t viewed as a charismatic figure.“Some people are never meant for stardom, even if they are the star type,” the Hall of Famer Judy Rankin told Sports Illustrated in 1983, reflecting on Whitworth’s unflashy persona.“It’s not necessary for people to know you,” Whitworth told the magazine. “The record itself speaks. That’s all that really matters.”Alex Traub More

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    With Suns Deal, Mat Ishbia Is Close to His Basketball Dream

    Mat Ishbia was a walk on at Michigan State 20 years ago before he became a wealthy businessman. His $4 billion deal to buy the Phoenix Suns could help him live his sports dream.At times, Jason Richardson may have regretted playing alongside his friend Mat Ishbia on the Michigan State men’s basketball team.“Mat was always the upbeat, the positive teammate that I hated to guard,” Richardson said, laughing. He added: “He’d get coach mad at us.”Ishbia was the shortest player, but he had boundless energy. When he ran the scout team, Coach Tom Izzo would sometimes yell at the starters.“Hey, if Mat can make you do this … ”“Why can’t you cover Mat?”Said Richardson: “We’re like, man, ‘Mat, chill out, man.’ Nope. He took his job seriously.”Richardson and Ishbia were freshmen during the 1999-2000 season, when Michigan State won an N.C.A.A. Division I championship. Four players from that team went on to play in the N.B.A., including Richardson, while Ishbia took his competitive fire to a desk job at his father’s small mortgage-lending company, United Wholesale Mortgage. Ishbia is now its billionaire chief executive overseeing thousands of employees, including a few of his old teammates.Ishbia, left, at a Michigan State during the 2000 N.C.A.A. men’s basketball tournament. Four players from that team went on to the N.B.A.Getty ImagesOn Tuesday, Ishbia agreed to purchase a majority stake in the N.B.A.’s Phoenix Suns and the W.N.B.A.’s Phoenix Mercury, including the entire share of Robert Sarver, the disgraced majority owner. The teams were valued at $4 billion as part of the deal. Ishbia’s brother, Justin Ishbia, will be a major investor, and they are expected to bring in smaller investors.While Ishbia has long dreamed of owning a professional sports team, this opportunity arose only because of a yearslong scandal in the Suns organization with lingering effects that could prove daunting to whoever takes over. Sarver was pressured to sell the teams in September after an N.B.A. investigation by an independent law firm found toxic behavior by Sarver for years, from using racist slurs for Black people to treating female employees inequitably. Other employees, some of whom are no longer with the teams, were also found to have behaved inappropriately.If the N.B.A. approves the sale, Ishbia will become one of the youngest controlling owners in all of American professional sports at 42 years old. His mission will be to reboot the workplace culture of the Suns, while also bringing the franchise its first championship. The Mercury, who have won three championships, are trying to move forward after spending much of the year worrying about their star center Brittney Griner. She spent nearly 10 months detained in Russia on drug charges until she was released in a prisoner swap this month. The U.S. State Department said she had been “wrongfully detained.”The Phoenix Mercury had an up and down season this year while they were without Brittney Griner, who was detained in Russia on drug charges for nearly 10 months.Rebecca Noble for The New York TimesRichardson, who played for the Suns from 2008 to 2010, expressed confidence in Ishbia’s ability to handle the organization’s challenges.“Mat’s going to run it totally different,” said Richardson, who remains close to Ishbia. “It’s going to be upbeat. It’s going to be a family atmosphere. It’s going to be a team atmosphere. He’s going to do things to make that franchise valuable and successful.”Building capitalAfter graduating from Michigan State’s business school in 2003, Ishbia started working for United Wholesale Mortgage, which his father, Jeff Ishbia, founded in 1986 as a side business.“I went there with the concept that I was gonna be there for six months, a year,” Ishbia told Forbes last year. “No one likes mortgages. I don’t like them still.”He described it slightly differently last month in an interview on HBO’s “Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel”: “I learned that one, I could compete. Two, I could take all the things I learned from Izzo and, like, outwork everybody and be successful, and I saw the opportunity. And I’ve loved mortgages ever since.”The company had about a dozen employees when Ishbia started, according to a company bio. In 2013, Ishbia was named chief executive. Soon, the company was reporting more than $1 billion in mortgage sales. The company reported $107.7 billion in mortgage loans for 2019.Last month, U.W.M. passed Rocket Mortgage as the largest mortgage lender in the country. Rocket Mortgage was founded by Dan Gilbert, who owns the N.B.A.’s Cleveland Cavaliers.Dan Gilbert, who owns the Cleveland Cavaliers, founded Rocket Mortgage, a chief competitor for Ishbia’s company.Tony Dejak/Associated PressGuy Cecala, the executive chair of Inside Mortgage Finance, an industry newsletter, said that Ishbia and Gilbert were considered “mavericks” in the mortgage industry.“They’re very competitive with one another in mortgage lending and outside the mortgage-lending realm,” Cecala said.The two mortgage companies have publicly feuded. Earlier this year, Ishbia criticized Gilbert, in a post on LinkedIn, for reducing Rocket’s work force. Last year, U.W.M. announced that it would no longer work with brokers who also do business with Rocket Mortgage and another competitor, a decision that led to a pending legal challenge.When pressed about the decision on CNBC last year, Ishbia said it wasn’t about exclusivity. He suggested that the competitors were operating in a “gray area” he didn’t want to be part of. Gilbert was unavailable for comment.As Ishbia’s wealth grew through the mortgage business, he was active politically, donating to both Democrats and Republicans.He donated to the primary campaign of Alex Lasry, a Democrat, in this year’s Wisconsin Senate race. Lasry is the son of Marc Lasry, who owns the N.B.A.’s Milwaukee Bucks, and is a Bucks executive. Ishbia also supported both Republicans in the 2020 Senate runoffs in Georgia, including an incumbent, Kelly Loeffler, who owned the W.N.B.A.’s Atlanta Dream. Loeffler was in an open feud with her team’s mostly Black players, who backed her Democratic opponent after she disparaged the Black Lives Matter movement. She lost to that opponent, the Rev. Raphael Warnock, who is Black, and she later sold the Dream.Ishbia has also given back to his alma mater. Last year, he pledged $32 million to Michigan State. On “Real Sports,” he said an additional $14 million would go toward the $95 million salary of the school’s football coach, Mel Tucker.Two years ago, Izzo connected Ishbia with Dick Vitale, the college basketball broadcaster, who also raises money for pediatric cancer research. Vitale said Ishbia offered him $1 million during their first conversation, and then he and his brother, Justin, followed up with further seven-figure donations.“Shocked the heck out of me,” Vitale said. “Are you kidding me? That is so rare. I wish I could get more entertainers and more athletes, more financially successful people to join me in my quest. But it’s not that easy.”Huddles, chants and mortgagesEvery so often, Ishbia will bring his three children, ages 8, 9 and 11, to the office. They’ll come to U.W.M.’s senior leadership meetings toting notepads.“It’s cute to look over and, you know, watch when they write things down,” said Melinda Wilner, who has been U.W.M.’s chief operating officer since 2015.Ishbia’s father sits on U.W.M.’s board of directors and still comes to some company meetings.“He instilled a strong work ethic in Mat for sure, and his brother,” said Sarah DeCiantis, U.W.M.’s chief marketing officer.When asked who Ishbia’s biggest influences are, DeCiantis didn’t hesitate.“His dad, his mom and Tom Izzo,” she said.Michigan State head coach Tom Izzo, center, with the team Ishbia played on that won the N.C.A.A. championship in 2000.Brian Gadbery/NCAA Photos via Getty ImagesIzzo, she said, taught Ishbia how to hold people accountable and motivate them. Ishbia was a student coach under Izzo for his final season. The “Real Sports” segment last month showed that U.W.M. has borrowed some elements of sports culture for its workplace, like team huddles broken by chants.Izzo once visited on a Thursday and was told that Thursdays were Ishbia’s day to walk around visiting employees. He often asks executives for lists of people who have been performing well so he can call with his appreciation.He uses Izzo’s lessons on managing people with a younger set as well: his children’s sports teams. Blake Kolo, a close friend and an executive with U.W.M., whose children play on the same teams as Ishbia’s, said Ishbia’s one rule is to be positive.“If you join the team — it doesn’t matter if you’re a parent or a kid — we’re OK with so much, but you just can’t be negative,” Kolo said.Chasing sports ownershipKolo recalled a flight home from the Bahamas nearly a decade ago with Ishbia and a small group of friends. Ishbia asked everyone about their goals for the next year.Some did not know, but he gave them all a chance to share before it was his turn.“My goal that will always remain on my list is to be an owner of a sports team,” Kolo remembered Ishbia saying. “You know, that’s a long-term goal. That’s not my 12-month goal.”At the time, Ishbia was a wealthy man, but he didn’t have the fortune required to buy a team. Then, U.W.M. went public in 2021.Ishbia, center, took United Wholesale Mortgage public in 2021, which helped him gain the capital to seriously contend to buy professional sports teams.Business Wire, via Associated PressIshbia was part of a bid to buy the N.F.L.’s Denver Broncos this year, joining a group that included Alec Gores, who invested in U.W.M. and is the older brother of Tom Gores, the Detroit Pistons owner. Ishbia also had been mentioned as a possible suitor for the Washington Commanders in recent months.Richardson said he never expected Ishbia to buy a team so far from Michigan, where U.W.M. is based. “But that just shows you how bad he wanted to own the franchise and be a part of the N.B.A. team and help a franchise win a championship,” he said.According to a person close to Ishbia, he spent time in Phoenix as he researched the team and the market and became excited by what he saw as a strong opportunity to win. Ishbia plans to continue living in the Detroit area, the person said.The Mercury won W.N.B.A. championships in 2007, 2009 and 2014. The Suns have never won a championship, but they have been to the N.B.A. finals three times, including in 2021. They have been one of the league’s best teams for the past three seasons, led by guard Devin Booker, who grew up in Michigan.“I 100 percent know Mat Ishbia wanted to get a team to win a championship,” Izzo said. “Period.”Phoenix Suns guards Chris Paul, left, and Devin Booker, right, have helped the team find success over the past several seasons, including a trip to the N.B.A. finals in 2021.Matt York/Associated PressIzzo also teased, “He’s an athletically driven guy, that’s body isn’t as athletically driven.”Ishbia’s sale must be approved by three-fourths of the N.B.A.’s board of governors, which includes a representative from each of the league’s 30 teams. Before the vote, the league will vet his finances, conduct a background check and have a small advisory group of owners assess whether Ishbia’s ownership group would be a beneficial partner.Deals can fall through. In August 2011, Alex Meruelo, a California-based pizza-chain owner and real estate magnate, agreed to to buy a majority stake in the Atlanta Hawks. The league office had concerns about his finances, and about three months later Meruelo said that the sale was off by mutual agreement.But if Ishbia’s deal is approved, those who know him best say that he will bring a new energy to an organization in sore need of a reset.“You got to win pretty quick in sports, you know, or everybody’s mad at you,” Izzo said.He thinks Ishbia’s tenure with the Suns and Mercury will be similar to his time leading U.W.M. — that he’ll demand short-term success, and have a long-term vision and that he’ll be very hands on with the organization.“He’s a pit bull,” Izzo said. “With a very warm heart.”Sheelagh McNeill More

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    How Is Nikola Jokic This Good Again?

    With his seamless passing and box-score-busting offense, Jokic, the superstar Denver Nuggets center, is showing why his coach calls him a “generational talent.”DENVER — Nikola Jokic didn’t look like himself in some ways. He was missing layups and had been called for a technical foul. He made silly turnovers, was late on several defensive rotations and tallied just two assists in the first half.But by the time that game against the Charlotte Hornets was over, Jokic had amassed an eye-popping stat line: 40 points, 27 rebounds and 10 assists. It was the first time a player had compiled at least 35 points, 25 rebounds and 10 assists since Wilt Chamberlain did so in 1968. Jokic set a Denver Nuggets record by grabbing 20 rebounds in the first half alone, amid all of his miscues.That’s the level Jokic is at nowadays: Even his off games are record-breaking.“I didn’t know it was a 40, 27 and 10 night,” Nuggets Coach Michael Malone said after the game Sunday. “But I knew that he was having just another Nikola Jokic stellar performance.”The next game was Tuesday night against the Memphis Grizzlies, the only team standing between the Nuggets and the best record in the Western Conference. Jokic meticulously dismantled Memphis by tossing out 13 assists, feeding his teammates as if he were Mary Poppins among birds, as part of a triple-double in a 14-point win.The almost routine dominance of Jokic — Malone called him “a generational talent” — is bolstering his case to become the first N.B.A. player to win three straight Most Valuable Player Awards since Larry Bird, who won from 1984 to 1986 with the Boston Celtics. The only other players to do so were Wilt Chamberlain (1966 to 1968 with the 76ers) and Bill Russell (1961 to 1963 with Boston).But it’s not just awards that set Jokic apart from other stars.Some players seem to defy the laws of physics with their athleticism. Jokic is not fast. His vertical is more of a horizontal. He isn’t particularly muscular and often looks winded, with his shoulders sagging. When he shoots 3-pointers, he slowly winds up and casually flicks his wrist, as if basketball is interrupting his day.Yet Jokic, 27, makes flashy passes look effortless and punishes opponents with brute force at the basket. Alex English, a Hall of Famer who won a scoring title for the Nuggets in 1983, said Jokic makes it seem like he “doesn’t have to work so hard.”“His footwork is just unbelievable,” English said. “Guys, they don’t know what he’s going to do because he’s got such great footwork. He is just the total package.”Early in the third quarter against Memphis on Tuesday, Jokic caught the ball near the perimeter, instantly tossed the ball between his legs without looking and found a cutting Bruce Brown for a dunk, drawing oohs and aahs from the crowd. That was the amuse-bouche for minutes later, when he coolly tossed a blind over-the-head pass from the low post to Aaron Gordon for another dunk.“You just have to be ready for the ball, no matter where you are or where he is on the court because he can find you,” Zeke Nnaji, a third-year reserve forward for the Nuggets, said in the locker room on Sunday.When Jokic is on the court, the Nuggets’ offense is on par with the league’s best teams. When he sits, it is the worst, a remarkable swing. This year, teammates like Gordon, Brown and guard Kentavious Caldwell-Pope are having great years, in part because of the open shots Jokic has created. In the case of Brown, roughly half his shots have been “open” or “wide open,” according to the league’s tracking numbers. Last year, when Brown was with the Nets, that number was only 38.3 percent.One of the most effective plays the Nuggets run involves Jokic catching the ball around the free-throw line, leaving the entire court at his disposal. If a double team comes, Jokic casually finds shooters or cutters. If he is single-covered, Jokic simply backs down the defender or shoots over him. He doesn’t move quickly. He gets to where he needs to go, or makes sure the ball does.Jokic, for the third straight season, is leading the league in multiple advanced statistical categories, in large part because of his ruthless efficiency. He’s averaging 24.7 points a game, and his true shooting percentage (a measure of scoring efficiency that factors in free throws) — is 68.8 percent. No one has ever averaged 20 points per game with at least 69 percent true shooting for a season. (During the 1981-82 season, Artis Gilmore averaged 18.5 points a game on 70.2 percent true shooting.)And Jokic does have shortcomings: He’s not a strong defender, even though he’s the only center in the league’s top 20 in steals. Opposing teams with quick guards often look to attack him when he’s on defense. In the two games this week, Hornets and Grizzlies guards sought Jokic out in transition and stepped right around him for easy layups.Quick guards, like Charlotte’s Terry Rozier, center, often can zip past Jokic.Isaiah J. Downing/USA Today Sports, via ReutersHis matchup against Memphis guard Ja Morant on Tuesday was a battle in contrasts. Morant is a high-flying speedster who seems to have an internal joystick set to turbo at all times. Jokic, listed at 6-foot-11, has nine dunks on the year. Morant, at 6-foot-2, has 19. Though the Grizzlies lost, Morant’s output was certainly that of a superstar — 35 points and 10 assists — and he, like Jokic, could be in the conversation for the M.V.P. Award.Several players have won twice in a row, including Milwaukee’s Giannis Antetokounmpo immediately before Jokic. But few have won the following year, even if, like Jokic, they continued to play well. Michael Wilbon, the ESPN broadcaster and longtime M.V.P. voter, said that voter fatigue is “probably” a real factor in voting, though “not consciously.”“You just start to examine your own judgment and you’re saying, ‘Wait a minute, is this person so dominant that he should be installed in this position in a league that has great stars every year?’” Wilbon said.Whether Jokic wins again or not is almost besides the point. He is one of the best shows to watch — not just in the N.B.A., but in all of professional sports. Even though he’s won individual honors, he does not seem to get the attention that other top stars get. Maybe it’s because he plays in a smaller market like Denver. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t do many commercials and isn’t active on social media. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t won a championship.But this month will mark only the third time in Jokic’s eight-year career that the N.B.A. will showcase the Nuggets on Christmas, a day the league typically reserves for the league’s marquee players. Last year, despite Jokic being the reigning M.V.P., the league snubbed the Nuggets when deciding the holiday’s schedule.That’s on the league for depriving viewers of a unicorn: a slow-footed, lumbering big man who manages to awe on a nightly basis in a way no one of his size and physique has before dribbling a basketball. More

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    Grant Wahl Died of a Burst Blood Vessel, His Family Says

    An autopsy in New York showed that the journalist had a tear in the ascending aorta, a large vessel that carries blood from the heart.Grant Wahl, the celebrated soccer journalist who died suddenly last week at the World Cup in Qatar, had a rupture in a blood vessel leading from the heart, his family announced on Wednesday.His death resulted from a weakness in an artery wall called an aneurysm, which may balloon outward and then tear open. An autopsy conducted in New York revealed that Mr. Wahl, 49, experienced a catastrophic rupture in the ascending aorta, which carries oxygenated blood from the heart.The autopsy puts an end to rampant speculation that followed Mr. Wahl’s death. Posts on social media hinted at links to Covid vaccines or retaliation by the Qatari government for an article Mr. Wahl had written about immigrant deaths.Mr. Wahl’s wife, Dr. Celine Gounder, is a leading infectious disease physician who rose to prominence during the coronavirus pandemic and advised President Biden’s transition team on Covid-19. She and the rest of the family rejected, in particular, the speculation linking his death to vaccines, saying that it was especially insulting because of her work.He probably died instantly and did not feel pain, Dr. Gounder said in an interview on Tuesday. “I really do feel some relief in knowing what it was,” she said.Mr. Wahl had been sick with a cold for several days before collapsing, and had written in his newsletter and on Twitter that he felt his body was breaking down after weeks of poor sleep and long days covering the games.He had just turned 49 and was quite healthy, making his death even more of a shock to his friends, family and readers. The sniffles and other cold symptoms he had were most likely unrelated to the aneurysm, Dr. Gounder said.Until the autopsy, Dr. Gounder said, she had been worried that perhaps she could have prevented his death if they had talked more often while he was in Qatar or if she had been there with him.Mr. Wahl’s brother, Eric Wahl, initially said on social media that he suspected foul play and later suggested that his brother might have experienced a blood clot in his lungs. On Tuesday, Eric Wahl said that he no longer believed those were factors in his brother’s death.The autopsy found that Mr. Wahl had an ascending thoracic aortic aneurysm, a weakening of the blood vessel that often goes undetected. As the aneurysm grows, it may produce a cough, shortness of breath or chest pain, some of which the doctors consulted by Mr. Wahl in Qatar might have attributed to his cold and a possible case of bronchitis.In rare cases, the aneurysm can rupture and lead to death. Doctors are now exploring whether Mr. Wahl had Marfan syndrome, a risk factor for this type of aneurysm. He was tall and thin and had long arms, all of which can be signs of the genetic syndrome.Mr. Wahl joined Sports Illustrated in 1996 as a fact checker, a traditional entry route for young journalists, and wrote hundreds of articles on a variety of sports for the magazine over the next two decades.One early profile, a cover story on a teenage LeBron James in 2002, remained a touchstone for both writer and subject 20 years later. Mr. Wahl would occasionally reminisce about it to his 850,000 followers on Twitter, and Mr. James spoke about its meaning to him and his family while eulogizing the writer at a news conference and on social media over the weekend.But Mr. Wahl was best known for writing about soccer, which he began covering while he was a student reporter at Princeton University in the early 1990s. Through his books, tweets, podcasts and magazine articles, he became a guide of sorts for a generation of fans and readers just learning the game.He also used his profile and social-media megaphone to highlight the growth of women’s soccer, the breadth of corruption in soccer, human rights violations and gay rights.Mr. Wahl had worked at Sports Illustrated for more than 23 years when the magazine’s publisher abruptly fired him over a dispute about pandemic-related pay cuts. But he had a large following by then, and started an email newsletter and podcast that quickly became successful.In Qatar, Mr. Wahl was covering his eighth World Cup. He was in the press box in the closing minutes of the quarterfinal match between Argentina and the Netherlands when he collapsed.According to two New York Times journalists who were present, medical personnel tried to revive Mr. Wahl for about 20 minutes before he was transported to a hospital in Doha. He was pronounced dead at the hospital.Dr. Gounder’s relationships with the Biden administration and public health agencies, including the New York City health department, helped her bring the unembalmed body to the United States for the autopsy.Dr. Gounder said she wanted to ascertain the circumstances of her husband’s death in part to quell online speculation. “I wanted to make sure the conspiracy theories about his death were put to rest,” she said. More