I spent an hour over breakfast with Skip Prosser in a hotel restaurant just two weeks ago tomorrow. We both avoided the fatty foods and sweets on the all-you-can-eat buffet, and discovered in the course of our chat that we were born two days apart in November 1950. We chuckled over the fact I was older. Now I always will be, because Prosser died suddenly on Thursday, reportedly in his Winston-Salem basketball office after returning from a jog. ( -- WRAL.com)
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