By By Ric Bucher

Tuesday, November 12, 2002

The labels are everywhere, lurking in his books, his clothes, his CDs, even in his shoulder-length shag. By now Steve Nash knows that anything he does will morph into something of greater significance. He chats up Elizabeth Hurley at a party, and he's a jet-setter. He takes up guitar to go with the mop, he's a grunger. He reads The Catcher in the Rye, and he's Holden Caulfield. He steers clear of NBA couture, and GQ still comes knocking, trumpeting his T-shirt-and-jeans ensemble as a style all ...

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