During most of his teenage years, he pitched for 15 minutes, every day, year-round, working through his repertoire of pitches — risers, drops, curves, knucklers, fastballs. During the winter he either braved the snow and cold outside or pitched in his basement. Sometimes he resorted to throwing darts underhanded at a plywood target. He pitched so much that his elbow became deformed with fluid and calcification. The payoff was a prolific pitching career and a place in the national softball hall of fame.

Miller's work ethic, powered by the narcotic of achievement and success, is both his strength and weakness. It was this work ethic that took him away from home and family. It was this work ethic that drove him to become a self-made millionaire in the great tradition of great American success stories, working his way up from stock boy and counter man to wealthy entrepreneur. At last count he owned 38 car dealerships, the Utah Jazz, the Delta Center, a TV station, Jordan Commons and everything in it (movie theaters, restaurants, offices), an insurance company, a real estate company, an advertising agency and more — all acquired in the last 22 years.

A few years ago, he and his wife, Gail, were driving home from Colorado when they began reflecting on the direction of their lives. Gail suggested they make a list of the things he — they, really — had done in his career. When they were finished, they were stunned. The list covered several pages; every few months for 20 years there had been a major business transaction or project. "No wonder we're tired," Gail told her husband.

Miller is the accidental businessman, a prolific entrepreneur-philanthropist whose career sprang from working-class roots and accidents of fate. People ask him now if he had a plan. Hardly. The chain of events that began his entrepreneurial career were sparked by three failures: He dropped out of college, got laid off and got demoted.

A lousy student

Larry Horne Miller graduated from West High School with a 1.77 cumulative grade point average. One point seven seven. Teachers suspected his grades didn't reflect his intelligence — at every level of schooling he was given tests in a room alone — but his reputation for misbehavior preceded him. One teacher gave Miller his own curriculum at the outset of the term and said he didn't want to see him until the end of the year.

Miller's grades were so poor that he didn't qualify to take a college admissions test until a family friend intervened and arranged it at the University of Utah. Miller scored in the 99th percentile. The score was so high that university officials were suspicious — the grades and test score didn't match. They thought he had cheated and asked him to retake the test, this time under close supervision. Same results.

He lasted six weeks at the University of Utah. "It verified two things — that I had a short attention span and I had lousy study habits," he says.