A while back, I came across an old episode of HBO’s “Entourage” (when it was cool, about sports and called “Arliss”) in which alcoholic, self-centered athletes, a crackpot commissioner and quirky spectacle ruined beach volleyball’s shot at primetime television.

Thankfully, it was only a sitcom.

In reality, beach volleyball is two parts athleticism, one part sex appeal and an inexpensive, family-fun alternative to the professional leagues that require a third mortgage just to attend a game.

Approachable players. Tons of freebies. Hot bodies in bikinis. What’s not to like? And while there are plenty of other reasons why you should check out the AVP when it comes to your town, I really only needed one.

Her name: Kerri Walsh.

Normally, I’d use this space to talk about what a terrific athlete Walsh is. Or how she’s the defending Olympic gold medalist. Or how she’s part of the top-ranked team in the world, along with partner Misty May.

My reasons for wanting to see Walsh were far more personal.

When I worked as an intern for the Olympic Team in 2005, the USOC held a media week for press to gather photos, stories, video and quotes leading into the 2006 Olympic Winter Games in Torino. Walsh was on assignment with NBC, profiling athletes and the facilities at what was my home at the time, the U.S. Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs.

Kerri showed off our dining hall, gym facilities and even treated the staff to a bottle of wine. (Alcohol is a big no-no at the Training Center.) But when it came time for Ms. Walsh to show off the USOC’s Sports Science Department, and how our athletes continue to improve daily with the latest advancements in technology, it was my roommate Kalen who got the call. He couldn’t have been more excited to show her the tools of his trade. So much so that he didn’t stop bragging about it for three weeks straight.

But Kalen’s excitement wavered significantly when the quasi-couple (In reality, Walsh is happily married to fellow AVP’er Casey Jennings) finally made their public debut on NBC’s Olympic Web site. You see, Kalen just couldn’t keep his eyes off of Kerri. As she tried out the stationary bike, he was blatantly checking her out. And as he spoke, he kept tripping over his words, his voice was locked in monotone. It was like watching a 13-year-old move in for a first kiss, without the profuse stench of Axe, sweat and a small puddle of drool.

With that in mind, you’d obviously understand why I immediately called Kalen after bumping into Walsh at a Sports Illustrated party in Torino. I tried to imagine him, bored out of his mind, somewhere in the middle of Oregon. It might have cost me $50 bucks to make a five-minute cell phone call all the way from Italy, just to brag about running into Kerri. And about how we tried to dance together, but her sheer height made it difficult to follow in the 30 seconds we actually tried. After all, as the guy, I’ve never let the girl lead. Not like that anyways.

“Let’s not talk about that night,” Walsh joked when I brought it up to her last month in Boston. “As you and I both know, Olympians play hard and sometimes they party a little harder.”

But as I tried to pull my conversation with Kerri away from that night and my roommate, I too was having a hard time putting it all together. There were too many “ums.” I don’t think I uttered a single complete sentence. And I asked some of the dumbest questions imaginable, about Beijing and how happy she was to have the AVP back in Boston.

And it wasn’t like she was in her bikini/uniform. This was a girl dressed for an afternoon on Newbury Street. Not that it would have mattered, I’ve gotten past the social discomfort of interviewing half-naked women while doing a post-game interview in a WNBA locker room. That, and female journalists deal with it all the time.

So I guess I too choked in trying to dish with Kerri Walsh. Albeit a sober Kerri Walsh this time. But it didn’t keep me from calling up Kalen and telling him I could still muster up more words than he ever could.

After all, isn't that what friends are for?