Seikaly grew up in a musical family, and from his early teens, he liked to control the turntables, blasting Sister Sledge in impromptu disco parties at home. And during his 11-year NBA career with Miami, Golden State, Orlando, and New Jersey -- he was appropriately nicknamed "Spin Doctor" for his moves on the court -- music was always the six-foot-11-inch center's secret passion.
His specialty: the spaced-out electronic house music that makes you want to wash an Ecstasy pill down with a $12 Heineken as you sweat 16 pounds away at a velvet-roped nightclub. He idolized house legend Danny Tenaglia.
His teammates, most of them hip-hop fans, were not on board. "The locker room was the one place I couldn't play my music," he tells Riptide, laughing. "They'd all say, 'Turn that shit off! '"
Upon retirement in 1989, Seikaly, who lives in a $7.5 million, 10,000-square-foot mansion on Miami Beach's North Bay Road and is divorced from a Mexican supermodel, wasn't searching for money or prestige. But the club owner, who now operates Wall Lounge in South Beach's W Hotel, started getting serious about spinning records, and it soon became his post-basketball profession.
After all, the two gigs aren't so different, he says: "In both basketball and DJing, the adrenaline is there. You control the night for everybody in attendance: You can make sure they have a great time, or you can ruin their night by missing a shot or not playing the music they want to hear."
This month, Seikaly signed with well-known house-music label Subliminal Records. When Riptide catches up to him, he's back in Lebanon during a Europe club tour. The one constant of a successful DJ's life: travel. "When I stopped playing the NBA," he remarks, "I thought the last thing I want to do is get on more planes, but here I am. I don't have the luxury of the team plane anymore. I'm back on commercial."
Seikaly is still a huge Heat fan. So, Riptide wonders, what song would best describe the team's mood upon securing superstars Dwyane Wade, Chris Bosh, and LeBron James? Without hesitation, he croons a Black Eyed Peas selection: "Tonight's going to be a good night."
And what would Seikaly play for those poor souls in Cleveland? "Something," he quips, "by Eternal Tears of Sorrow."
