Quotemonger: Nashty Talk
Plus, Jax’s career in reverse and Sam Smith exposed!
by Bethlehem Shoals
Kobe Bryant, when asked if he’d consider opting out to join the Raptors:
“I won’t answer that question because if I do everybody will assume I’m leaving the Los Angeles Lakers and coming to play here, so I won’t say anything.”
Translation: See LeBron, you’ve still got a ways to go before you take the crown.
Some guy named Joey Graham (or maybe Stephen Graham—whichever plays for the Raptors) on LeBron vs. Kobe:
“To me, Kobe’s the better basketball player. We kind of almost know what we’re going to do against LeBron—we’re going to throw bodies at him, make him try to shoot jumpers. But Kobe, you can’t leave him open. And if you throw bodies at him, he’s going to get fouled.”
Translation: Also, whatever I say, Kobe will find it while Googling himself late at night, put it to memory, and then repeat it to me as he’s torching us next time we meet. LeBron just keeps track of what impersonation makes you laugh. That’s his version of a scouting report.
Amar’e Stoudemire, on the Suns’ current woes:
“To keep losing these games the way we are, it’s not fun. I’m not used to it. It’s almost against my religion.”
Translation: No really, I’m working on my own. It’s called Hypocalypto, which describes the state of mind you’re in when you watch that Mel Gibson joint that’s not even in English—but you understand anyway, man, you understand. What? You thought that was my management company? Fool, it’s a religious organization that offers guidance to spiritually advanced professionals in entertainment and sports. See, you thought T.I. was going me a favor by making us part of Grand Hustle. Naw, it’s like this: Right before he goes away, dude converts, and spreads it throughout the federal pen. He’s a prophet and I’m the Black Billy Graham. Now if only my man would hurry up and get those t-shirts printed. I’ve got to put the custom glitter job on each one.
Lamar Odom on Kobe’s MSG explosion:
“He kind of had this dazed look on his face. Some call it the zone.”
Translation: And on the fifth day, all who return their carpet samples shall be forgiven, and receive a discount on any light fixtures or tile.
Steve Nash with more real talk about the Suns:
“It’s their team and they can do whatever they want. At the same time, when people are critical of us they should keep in mind we can very easily have a different roster. Go through and look at the players we’ve given up that were still cheap and very valuable. Sometimes you just can’t have the same expectations you would in a different situation. You have to realize this organization is run with a business model not to make money or to not lose money—fiscal responsibility. I respect that and at the same time you can’t expect to compete with every team in the world when you have that concern.”
Translation: I’m that dude in the NBA who cares about wars and international water shortages (Spencer Hawes is a talk radio stooge). So gather ’round and listen, as I tell you of this thing called political capital. For the whole time I’ve been in Phoenix, I’ve made the world a better place for everybody. We sped the game up, which makes for better ratings. It’s not a drag for the player. I put a stop to this creepy fixation on the seven-footer, no matter how raw or sloppy, and got the pure point guard back on top of everyone’s want-list. Oh, and did I mention, it’s a position that requires real skill, not just skills, but the kind of thing that creates a huge demand for learning and knowledge and basketball camps. And I’m a white Cinderella story who stays down to earth and never says an unkind word to anybody. That’s political capital.
Well this week, I’ve decided to burn some of it. A lot of it. Eff Sarver, the whole Suns organization, and this bullsh*t system that’s got me looking like a late-career fluke, not a two-time MVP who could’ve easily gone three. Screw them for even letting the phrase “system player” get in the same sentence as me. And while we’re at it, Chris Duhon ain’t sh*t. That team’s got no rhythm whatsoever, and gives a bad name to everything we ever did in Phoenix. It’s like Mike wants to go down in a blaze of parody, just because people assume with that hick accent of his, he couldn’t possibly appreciate that level of dramatic sophistication. That’s his idea of a good time. I’m going to sulk until me and Shawn are running the break again, just the two of us with whole world falling away. That’s what I picture every time I have to wait for Shaq to move one clod-hopper, then the other. I look back and see Joe Johnson, lil’ Joey Johnson, all grown up and pumping his fist. Then Dirk suddenly joins the team, wearing no shirt and dressed like the Pope…maybe I’d better stop there.
Stephen Jackson celebrates his first-ever triple-double:
“I came close for so long. It feels good to finally get one and a win.”
Translation: They all call me Benjamin Button now, because I learned my role and won a championship, and only now in my career am I getting to put up big numbers. That’s no strange case, that’s living like you were God’s very own TiVo.
Doc Rivers discusses Glen Davis’s season:
“He’s doing alright. He’s just up and down. You know, Baby’s emotional. He’s still growing up, and that’s one thing as a staff we don’t forget.”
Translation: Or we could just stop calling him “Baby.” That might make him act a little more like an adult, and stop being so f*cking sensitive. I should remind him: You cry when you get the ring. But the ring don’t mean you then get to cry whenever you want after that. No matter what Kevin says to you. He’s just trying to be like the older brother you never had. Be a man and smack him in the face. He’d understand. One night he told me, “That’s all I ever wanted from Rick. For him to show me he cared.”
More Doc, this time on the exceptional valor shown by Ray Allen this season:
“You don’t win by being comfortable. You win by doing things out of your comfort zone to make the team better, and Ray epitomizes that to me. He’s completely come out of his comfort zone to fit into this team to make us better, and Ray has proved that he’s a champion because he’s willing to do that.”
Translation: All last year, when he looked totally uncomfortable and stunted, that was about honor. This year we figured things out a little better on offense, so we make sure to poison his sodas every now and then. Just to keep him on his toes. Sometimes I have my little nephew make a fake ransom note, saying his daughter’s been kidnapped, and stick it under his door. We make sure to raise the curtain before any authorities are contacted, or he wrecks any hotel furniture, so it’s all perfectly legal. But it does keep Ray out of his comfort zone.
Beno Udrih bares his soul on the subject of trade:
“I actually don’t know anything about trades. I don’t want to know. Until something happens, I don’t even want to listen to it, hear about it, because if something is going to happen, it’s going to happen. The organization decides, not the players.”
Translation: What? I’ve been pounding on the table this whole time? And you say there wasn’t even a table here, but I was so incensed I went and had one custom-built by the nearest Turk, to bang on like we do in the country I call home? My, sometimes I wonder if Artest didn’t plant a worm inside my brain, one by which I would forever remember him. That is not how you say it? No, I mean a small squiggly animal. Put in my skull. Sometimes this happens in the jungle. Yes, I know there is no such terrain where I come from. I speak of the time me, Ron Ron, and Spencer Hawes went on safari. I speak of it no more than that.
Daniel Gibson, talking about some game:
”I was a little upset with myself because I had picked up some silly fouls in the first half.”
Translation: I just like those Geico googly-eyes commercials too darn much,.
Super-scribe Sam Smith, writing for NBA.com:
“Here’s one scenario I heard speculated about last week: The Raptors trade Bosh to the Heat for Shawn Marion and Michael Beasley. Perhaps the Raptors also throw in O’Neal and get a lesser player and save more money.”
Translation: Once and for all, I have revealed that my source is a stick of peyote dipped in lead paint that I suck on while scrolling through www.nba.com/players and watching Laser Floyd.