Tonight a broadcaster called an entire quarter of an NBA game by himself. The chair next to him was left empty on purpose. It was his idea. Here is who used to sit in it. Stacey King passed away in June. He was 59, and he had been the voice of the Chicago Bulls for almost 21 years. He grew up in Lawton, Oklahoma, and went to Lawton High School there. His father James served 25 years in the Army, did two tours in Vietnam, and was given the Soldier's Medal for bravery. His mother Lois cared about one thing more than basketball. Here is what she told Sports Illustrated about her son in 1988. "I want him to be able to read a stop sign." When his grades slipped she made him write out his goals and priorities and explain them to her. He made the dean's list. He majored in journalism and wrote for the student paper at Oklahoma. And in Lawton, of the two King brothers, he was considered the shy one. He was Big Eight Player of the Year and a consensus All-American, and he took Oklahoma to the national championship game in 1988. Chicago drafted him sixth overall in 1989. He won three championships there. Then he spent two decades in the booth saying things like too big, too strong, too fast, too good. Mouse in the house, free cheese. Gimme the hot sauce. But here is what the people who worked with him keep bringing up instead. After games he would get security to let fans come down to the floor, so they could have a photograph. He did it for people he had only ever met online. Adam Amin sat beside him for eight years. Here is what Amin said about him last December, six months before any of this. "He is a one of one." "I don't want to commit a broadcast sin by denying this person this thing that makes him so unique." Now the honest part of it. King was the sixth pick in the draft and he averaged six points a game. Measured against what a sixth pick is supposed to become, he did not become it. Nobody in Chicago cares, and tonight is why. The Bulls opened the season in Toronto and lost by 43. There was no crowd on his side, no ceremony, nothing on the line by halftime. Amin called the first quarter alone anyway, with a crown and one of King's old playing cards sitting on the empty seat. Here is how he opened it. "For this opening quarter of this opening game of this season we'll leave this chair next to our broadcast position empty." "And it will be OK eventually." And here is what he said in the tribute. "I know exactly who he was, I know what his gift could do, and I know that we were all just a little happier, a little better off, for getting to hear the song." King used to sign off every night the same way. Drive home safely, Chicago. They play it in the United Center now, after the wins.