On June 18, the 40/40 Club, on West 25th Street, New York City,

was jammed with basketball fans there to see the Miami Heat versus the San Antonio Spurs in Game Six of the N.B.A. finals.

Downstairs, the sports bar was noisy with paying customers.

Upstairs in his owner’s suite, Jay Z leaned back on one of the white leather sofas that line the large room.

Video:

The noise in this room came from the game on two large flatscreen TVs and the loud camaraderie of Jay’s guests—most of whom are his closest friends, people who’ve been in his inner circle for years.

Among them: Juan Perez, the president of the newly formed Roc Nation Sports; William “World Wide Wes” Wesley, a consultant to CAA Sports, which has recently partnered with Roc Nation Sports;

Tyran “Ty Ty” Smith, a friend of Jay’s for 25 years and head of A&R for Roc Nation Records; and his longtime trusted publicist, Jana Fleishman. Jay wore a white T-shirt, black hoodie, jeans, and

striped socks from the Stance sock company (he’s an investor). His white sneakers were in front of him on the floor.

When you meet Jay Z for the first time, or even the first few times, or get a rare, perfunctory interview, he is a thoughtful, guarded, reticent man. Not aloof—just cool.

His friend the producer Rick Rubin once described Jay to me as “the coolest guy in the room.” Any room. Everyone knows he’s really smart, really talented, really rich, and wildly successful. But in his private suite

he’s the Jay Z that only his friends and family get to see: extroverted, curious, gregarious, hilarious, and downright chatty.

He laughs a lot—his trademark short, staccato laugh. And there’s a lot to laugh about when you’re with this group. These are guys who came up together from the streets; the language was raw.

Some in the room were rooting for the Spurs, or, rather, against the Heat. At first, when Jay’s pal LeBron James was having a mediocre game, Knicks fan Juan Perez yelled profane and hysterically funny insults at the TV.

Various people stopped by to say hello: the singer Ne-Yo, Charlotte Bobcats point guard Kemba Walker—people pay respects to Jay not unlike they did to Don Corleone in The Godfather.

The 40/40—a baseball term that means getting 40 home runs and 40 stolen bases in one season—is Jay’s home away from home.

Beyoncé, his wife of five years, showed up after a recording session and sat down next to her husband. She wore shorts, a white silk sleeveless top, and Tabitha Simmons striped sneakers; her long hair was tied back with a scarf.

With no makeup on, she appeared around 20 years old. Juan Perez and I tried to explain to Beyoncé how, as Knicks fans, we hate the Heat. And the Celtics.

It’s the law. A waitress took drink and food orders: spicy shrimp, guacamole, French fries, sliders. By the third quarter, with the Spurs ahead by 10 points and looking like they’d win the championship,

Jay said, “This is over.” A few minutes later, LeBron’s headband accidentally fell off, Miami’s Ray Allen hit a three-pointer to tie the score, and the game went into overtime.

The room turned even more raucous. Juan Perez was apoplectic. Jay was rooting for the Heat, who won the game by three points, which meant the finals would go to a Game Seven. Which meant another night in the 40/40.