Tom Tolbert glances at a sheet of ad copy and leans toward the
microphone at KNBR's studios in San Francisco. The 6'8" former
NBA forward and current sports radio host is supposed to be
reading a promo spot for a mattress outlet, but he ends up
talking about onetime Lakers forward Kurt Rambis.
"Folks, they're practically giving away free beds here," Tolbert
says, and he breaks into a big, goatee-expanding grin. "And as
Kurt Rambis used to say, 'If it's free, it's me!' Believe me, he
dressed like it too. Kurt had this reversible neoprene tie. It
was blue on one side and black on the other."
Tolbert eventually returns to the mattress ad, but soon enough
he's off on another tangent, this time about "those freaky flying
monkeys" in The Wizard of Oz. It's not clear what the monkeys
have to do with American League MVP Jason Giambi, today's main
topic on The Razor and Mr. T--San Francisco's top-rated drive-time
show among men ages 25-54, which Tolbert cohosts with Ralph
Barbieri--but that's beside the point. It is this freewheeling
style, combined with candor and a bottomless reserve of NBA war
stories, that has made the 35-year-old Tolbert a rising star of
sports radio in the Bay Area.
"There's nothing contrived about Tom, and I think that's why he's
so popular here," says Bob Agnew, program director of KNBR, which
thanks in part to Mr. T's draw has become the No. 2 sports radio
station in the country, behind New York City's WFAN. "He has
these John Madden-esque descriptions that are convoluted but end
up making sense."
Tolbert has always provided entertainment value, whether he was
launching shots at Arizona (where he was dubbed "Denny's" because
Tolbert thought he was "open 24 hours") or growing his hair into
a mushroom cloud of blond curls while playing for the Golden
State Warriors. Although Tolbert's seven NBA seasons were
unremarkable (in his best year, with the Warriors in 1989-90, he
averaged 8.8 points and 5.2 rebounds), he was a beat writer's
dream. Once, when asked who he was most like, he paused. "Maybe,"
Tolbert said, "I'm a little bit like me. In fact, I'm a lot like
me in a lot of ways. I like the same food that I do. I like a lot
of the same hobbies, too. Yeah, that's it. I'm a lot like me."
Tolbert's radio career unofficially started in 1994, while he was
buried deep on the L.A. Clippers' bench. Frustrated with the
team, he began calling in to Jim Rome's radio show to provide
updates on the ineptitude of his woebegone club. His humor won
over the audience, if not his employers. "Elgin Baylor called to
reprimand me," Tolbert says of the Clippers' vice president of
basketball operations. "But what were they going to do, play me
Two years later, when KNBR needed an analyst for the NBA draft,
Agnew remembered the calls to Rome from Tolbert, who had since
retired. To keep things lively during the station's six hours of
draft coverage, Tolbert provided play-by-play of the draftees'
wardrobes. When Samaki Walker went ninth and strolled to the
podium in a white jacket and top hat, Tolbert said, "I don't know
what's worse, the pick or the suit."
Tolbert joined KNBR full time in September 1996, and he certainly
kept the KNBR staffers on their feet--"Thank god we had a
seven-second delay," says Agnew--but he also gained the respect of
the old-school Barbieri, a longtime Bay Area radio personality
who was wary of his new partner's goofiness. "Tom's a ham, and
he's funny," says Barbieri. "But he's also a born observer of the
human condition, which is rare in a pro athlete."
Their chemistry is unmistakable, even if Tolbert's train of
thought leaves the station early on occasion. "Our show is like
Seinfeld," says Tolbert. "You listen to it and then you say,
'What the hell did they just talk about for four hours?'"
Asked if he has any plans for world media domination, Tolbert is,
as usual, blunt. Expanding his duties would cut into time with
his wife, Lorrie, and their two boys, Weston, 5, and Walker, 3.
They're the reason he didn't renew his weekend job as a Fox
basketball analyst this year. More important, Tolbert says, "more
than four hours a day might start to feel like real work. I love
Jim Rome, but that guy works too hard. Sixteen hours a day? I
could never do that. I'm not on a time clock; I'm on a fun clock.
When this is no longer fun, I'm outta here."
Tolbert laughs and rubs his goatee. Then he perks up and asks,
"Hey, did I tell you the one about Manute Bol?"
the human condition," says Barbieri.