On a recent Tuesday night at Barclays Center, tucked in a corner of the building, just off the practice court, things were happening. A dozen VIPs — players’ wives, significant others and their children— were watching the game or moving between their private space and the adjacent practice court.
Trevor Booker’s sons were shooting on a small basketball hoop —the older boy showing off a neat bank shot. Three women wearing black-and-white (of course) t-shirts that read “Babysitters” worked with the kids, one feeding an infant with a bottle. Ball boys corralled those who strayed too far. In charge of it all were the Nets H.