DR. J, DR. WHO?

Basketball legend Julius Erving is known the world over for his high-flying, acrobatic style demonstrated with the Virginia Squires and Philadelphia 76ers. A household name even to non-hoop aficionados -- I mean, who hasn't heard of Dr. J? Well, there was one.

Not long after Erving's retirement, he visited Norfolk for a homecoming of sorts (the long-defunct Squires had played visiting teams at Scope) by appearing on a local call-in show. My mother, who had befriended the host of said talk-radio program during her days selling Dodges, was invited to see the question/answer session in person and meet Dr. J before hand. She accepted the offer, more to see the inner workings of a radio station than to mingle in the presence of a famous athlete. Also, my mom felt entitled to a well-deserved break from the 9-to-9 world of car sales, having made a hefty commission on a van purchased by (unbeknownst to her) former Oakland A's/New York Yankee great Jim "Catfish" Hunter.

Twenty minutes before scheduled on-air time, the excited host introduced her to Mr. Erving. "Hello, my name is Susan," my mother said softly to the tall gentleman, whose hand was the biggest she had ever grasped. "I'm Julius Erving. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," the NBA Hall-Of-Famer responded in kind. Usually, a celebrity of Dr. J's caliber would've been bombarded with questions concerning accomplishments in his chosen field. However, my mom's knowledge of basketball was restricted to knowing what one looked like. Thus, her conversation with one of the NBA's 50 Greatest Players was along the lines of, "Nice weather we're having today, huh?" Mr. Erving -- who sensed that my mother was more familiar with an Orange Julius than he -- pointedly asked her, "You have no idea who I am, do you?" Without missing a beat, my mom replied, "Well, you have no idea who I am, do you?" Feeling thwarted with the same force of a Kareem Abdul-Jabbar block, "The Doctor" spent the rest of his stay in Norfolk taking "house calls" from people who needed no proof of his "license to practice."

Later, my mother told the host that she'd thought Julius Erving was a local disc jockey who went by the on-air handle of "Dr. J." Long before this day, my mom had met a true Norfolk radio legend (2WD's Dick Lamb) at Plaza Theaters. While movie-goers surrounded Mr. Lamb for an autograph, my mom noticed thousands upon thousands of dandruff specks clinging to his wool jacket. Dr. Flake?