There weren’t many players Shaquille O’Neal let into his inner circle during his NBA career. Dominating the league with a rare combination of size, charisma and talent, the legendary center always kept a small, trusted group close.
But when he did let someone in, he treated them like family. And when Mark Madsen arrived on the scene as a modest guy, O’Neal saw something different. Something he felt had to be protected at all costs.
A brother to protect
Shaq didn’t just like Madsen. He admired him. He didn’t want him to be crowded and drowned in the lifestyle the NBA celebrity status had to offer.
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“[Madsen] was the purest NBA guy I ever met,” O’Neal said. “He really was. And I had to protect that. Most rookies when they come in, they go crazy, including me. I went crazy. Mark was none of that.”
In 2000, the Los Angeles Lakers were fresh off a promising campaign that hinted at dynasty-level potential. When they selected Madsen with the 29th overall pick in the first round of the NBA Draft, few outside of Southern California thought much of it. But inside the Lakers’ locker room, Madsen’s work ethic and spirit quickly caught attention — especially O’Neal’s.
Coming into a championship-caliber environment, the pressures on a rookie could be overwhelming. Veterans tested newcomers. Temptations lurked around every corner of Los Angeles nightlife. But Madsen wasn’t wired that way. His energy was clean. His focus, sharp. While others chased parties, he stuck to basketball.
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Shaq, having seen the pitfalls that swallowed countless young players, made a quiet vow. He told the Lakers’ players to leave Madsen out of the party invites. No late-night setups. No shady circles. He was more than a teammate at this point, but someone to be shielded from the darker edges of the professional sports world.
Madsen’s arrival couldn’t have been better timed. The Lakers were entering their peak years. With O’Neal anchoring the paint, Kobe Bryant growing into superstardom and a supporting cast built to complement them, the franchise clinched back-to-back titles in 2001 and 2002. Madsen’s minutes might have been modest — he averaged 2.0 points and 2.6 rebounds over his rookie season — but he impacted the team’s chemistry.
O’Neal coming through
Protecting Madsen was about integrating him the right way. O’Neal knew that part of surviving in the NBA was also about fitting in. That meant looking the part.
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“It was my job to protect him,” O’Neal said. “But I still wanted to make him cool, part of the guys. We have like $1000 suits and Mark, little Khakis, little shirt. And I said, ‘Mark, you gotta look like an NBA pro.”
Madsen, ever the frugal rookie, wasn’t keen on spending a fortune on clothes. He wanted to save his checks. O’Neal wasn’t about to let that stand between his young teammate and the respect that came from the presentation. So he made a call to the tailor who handled the Lakers’ suits, someone who could cut a deal without cutting corners.
Madsen got his custom fit, not at the typical four-figure price tag, but at half the cost, thanks to O’Neal pulling some strings. He knew the image extended beyond the locker room or the postgame tunnel.
Pulling up to practice or a team event in a beat-up car wouldn’t cut it. So Shaq took Madsen to a dealership he trusted. They worked out a discount for a new truck — nothing flashy, but sharp enough to turn heads. Madsen needed to look like he belonged. O’Neal made sure he did.
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By the time Marks’s Lakers run ended in 2003, he had already cemented a reputation as one of the most beloved teammates in franchise history. His dances during championship parades became legend. His energy remained infectious. And behind that enduring image was O’Neal, the big brother who saw something pure and made sure the world didn’t taint it.