Luther Wright's plight now featured in a new book

SALT LAKE CITY — Midnight had passed when Luther Wright shuffled in. Even at 7-foot-2, 300 pounds, he looked forlorn and a little scared.

Lou Bee was in trouble again.

He had missed the Jazz's flight to Minneapolis, that December night in 1993. Hours later I saw him in the lobby of the Marriott Minneapolis City Center, shoulders slumped, disconsolately staring at his size 22 shoes.

With plush-soft hands, a large body and a surprisingly fluid shooting touch, he was a potentially dominating presence. But 21 games into his first and only season in the NBA, Wright was already slipping. Lou Bee, as friends called him, claimed to have been caught in traffic on the way to the Salt Lake airport, then unable to find a parking space. But the Jazz weren't buying it. Earlier in the month he had been suspended for what the team said was several missed weightlifting sessions.

Traffic was the least of his problems.

In his new book, "A Perfect Fit," written with journalist Karen Hunter, he describes being lonely, disoriented, suffering from bipolar disorder, haunted by an abusive past and distracted by drug use at the time the Jazz drafted him. He didn't get along with Jerry Sloan and didn't like being so far removed from his Jersey City, N.J., home.

That was all before the big problems began.

The fine for missing the weightlifting sessions was nearly $8,000; the second was $470 for the air fare and $30 for the cab ride to the hotel. He could afford it, considering the Jazz had signed him to a $5 million contract.

Still, six weeks into his career, it was obvious Wright couldn't get it right.

I originally dismissed him as an irresponsible 22-year-old, and he was that. He had been ordered to leave the Delta Center for standing in the performers' area during a summer circus and, according to two sources, "being obnoxious."

"Seems like I'm always in the doghouse," he said.

During the regular season, he once asked me how he could get on the Deseret News "Quote of the Day" promotion that ran during timeouts. I wondered how Sloan would feel about his young center watching the JumboTron during breaks.

Lou Bee told me his real dream was to be a nightclub deejay, spinning records, or perhaps a rapper.