There are two things you don't do: One, you don't open an e-mail from Phil Simms in front of your kids, and, two, you don't jinx a man going for a perfect week.

A man's word and his intestinal fortitude are two of the most honorable virtues known to mankind.

You know, I'm a total perfectionist, and I labor over trying to get things right. Whether we're putting together an opening for the Masters broadcast or when I was writing with my friend Eli Stillman a book about my dad called 'Always By My Side,' I'm always trying to find a way to do something better.

I don't look at the world through a prism of sarcasm. Anything I do, I take things face on. I tell you how I feel, and what you hear on the air is what I'm feeling. I'm not going to try to fake it, create synthetic drama. I'm just going to be myself.

I'm blessed to have great friends, and there are a lot of men in my life who've been more than just friends.

The 'mecca of college basketball is in Storrs, Connecticut.

My father used to look at people and he treated everyone with such respect, and he always believed that he would rather trust you face on and be disappointed perhaps down the road, be disappointed some of the time rather than never to trust someone, never to believe in someone, and alas, be disappointed all the time. There's a big difference there.