Bio: NUNYO DEMASIO

I was born the day after Christmas in New York Hospital. My dad, a Ghanaian diplomat named Emmanuel Agorsor, was serving an extended assignment to the United Nations, living on East 72nd Street in Manhattan.

I soon started to notice my relatives and their friends muttering "Nunyo" while looking at me, often grinning and making the goofiest faces. After our family returned to Ghana in West Africa, my parents split up in 1975. Despite being virtually penniless, Dorcas Demasio moved back to New York City with her five children, including three boys. George Carlin had lived on the second floor of the apartment building where I grew up: 519 West 121st Street between Amsterdam and Broadway. (New York City would name part of a nearby street after the legendary comic amid resistance from the Catholic school that we had both attended as boys.) 

Starting when I was in  junior high school, neighborhood kids and classmates often ridiculed me with nicknames such as “Numblo,” “Numnuts” and “Kunta Kinte.” Worse, they dissed me for my tattered clothes, including sneakers one size too small with matching holes and torn socks under my big toes. To defend myself, I sharpened my “snapping” skills: using comedy to skewer people.

My mother was no joke: She earned a Master’s in Nutrition at Columbia University while working full-time as a nutritionist. Queen Dorcas, who also graduated from seminary, ruled the household like a dictator, requiring her children to attend church at least five days a week. Our family made up most of the orchestra at Rock Church, a Pentecostal congregation near Bloomingdale’s on the East Side,  where I played lead trumpet. (John DeLorean, the automobile legend, lived down the block and occasionally attended.)

The last thing I imagined was becoming a successful journalist with a broad writing portfolio.

During some sermons, out of boredom, I surreptitiously jotted down jokes on a napkin and then loose-leaf paper. Enjoying the process as a teenager, I purchased a notebook and became prolific. One day, I turned the raw jokes into a routine and recorded it on a cassette tape. Friends who visited me laughed hard at most of the material. I obliged one pal’s request to take the tape home for entertainment. He shared it with another friend, who then asked to borrow it. They decided to dub my 60-minute routine on a double-cassette tape recorder—a luxury I didn't have. Eventually, copies of the tape spread around the neighborhood. Guys would come up to me and repeat jokes. Because of my innate shyness, I declined suggestions to go into stand-up comedy or, at least, comedy writing.

Instead, a college professor who insisted my future lay in news writing steered me toward a career in sports journalism. After graduating from St. John’s, I worked at the New York Times, the New York Daily News, the Seattle Times, the Washington Post, and Sports Illustrated. In my late 30s, I finally acted on my long-time ambition to write a book: Parcells: A Football Life—an authorized biography of the iconic coach. The 544-page tome turned into a New York Times bestseller. (And one of the coolest things was getting a note from Warren Buffett after he had received the book.)

Several people subsequently asked me to collaborate, including Pete Rose (whose agent’s proposal I declined for various reasons). I looked into a couple of my own ambitious ideas. But David Stern, the NBA commissioner emeritus, resisted my proposal: a book revealing his insights on business, sports, and politics during his decades-long tenure. Stern had promised NBA owners he would never collaborate on a book—to their relief. So during several visits to his Fifth Avenue office, I conveyed my backup plan: a new media company featuring a podcast. Stern committed to the debut of the NUNYO & COMPANY Podcast: notable guests on topical subjects with a touch of humor. “Just so you don’t think I’m an asshole,” he bellowed in his office, “I’ll do your first podcast.”

The podcast reached listeners in more than 60 countries and drew coverage from dozens of major news organizations, including ABC News, The Washington Post, USA Today, CNBC, ESPN, and foreign outlets. Every few weeks, Stern contacted me for lunch: I took notes on his life and insights while he made cryptic remarks about my book idea. But tragically, Stern passed away from a stroke on January 1, 2020.

Since then, my storytelling has taken me into executive communications—most recently at C&W Services, where I work closely with the CEO and other senior leaders on everything from speeches and leadership messages to research for public appearances. (C&W Services is part of Cushman & Wakefield, the global commercial real estate firm.) The setting has changed since my newsroom days, but curiosity, reporting, and an ear for someone’s voice remain central to the work.

I plan to bring back the NUNYO & COMPANY Podcast in 2027, alongside my corporate work. The next chapter builds on what drew me to podcasting in the first place: thoughtful conversations, surprising stories, and a touch of humor.