Sports T&A with Amy – The Secret NBA Free Agent Summit
Posted Jun 18 2010 4:30am
What happens when you put all the NBA blue chip free agents in a Vegas hotel suite? They stop being polite. And start getting…weird.
Ah , the world of sports. If life is like a box of chocolates, then the world of sports would be like a 19 year-old frat pledge walking into a liquor store. It’s the whole chocolate metaphor but with the excitement of bad decision making brought about by alcohol. I feel like that young frat boy. I am a bit overwhelmed. How could I possibly choose a blog subject this week in the midst of so many amazing choices?
World Cup, USA vs. England?
Strasburg and his nothing-short-of-stunning MLB debut? I mean, the guy did have 14 strike-outs in seven innings. No rookie has gone that long since the seventies. Do I need to mention that post game celebration included a pie throwing contest? Awesome.
How about the fact that the Nets picked up Avery Johnson (coach by day, lollipop guild member by night)?
Stanley Cup final? Okay, definitely not. I was a serious hockey fan for several brief moments in time. We will refer to those moments as the “Patrick Roy and Peter Forsburg extravaganza days” back when Colorado had legs to stand on, and/or a “close encounter on the first kind” at a favorite bar of mine in Dallas, Primo’s, where four current and future hall of famer’s (Brett and Bobby Hull, Mike Modano, and Chris Chelios) were getting as hammered as I was.
Let’s not forget about the NBA finals. I mean c’mon, how could we? Kobe, Garnett, Fisher (where the heck did that game come from, buddy?) and Ray Allen, AKA Light’s Out Ray, now the three-point record holder—shocker… Didn’t you hold that record once before Ray, or was that Scotty? Or both? Either way, so many great things going on in such a small window.
So what will I write about? None of those. I am going to write about something that I feel is happening possibly as I type. Secret. NBA. Free Agent. Summit. Yes. I know you guys are out there. I am talking about you LeBron (again) and Dirk (again). I am also talking about D-Wade, Joe Johnson, Chris Bosh, Amare Stoudemire, and company. I have a serious feeling these guys are up to something. And here’s how I think it’s going down. Follow me:
Not so long ago, in a hotel suite with a stripper pole not so far away… an incredible adventure took place…..
The NBA as we know it is dead. Ruthless trader barons driven by greed and the lust of power have replaced the enlightenment with oppression. In a world where talent is king—where talent drives revenue, compensation, endorsements, etc, there exist men. Men of talent. Men that can shape the new NBA. Men who desperately want to create a legacy. Men that are trying to form an Empire.
(Somewhere deep, very deep, in the Nevada Desert):
David Lee: C’mon man. Keep up. I know we can meet these guys. I know they are going to let us in. If I can get 10 minutes with LeBron we’ll be doing Jager bombs and laughing about how he’s going to make sick cash. How he is going to be King of the Concrete Jungle. New York, baby. New York. (Editor’s note: Concrete jungle where dreams are made of, Neeeeeeeewwwwww York!)
Shaq: Bitch, please. Don’t tell me to keep up. Do you know who I am? I’m freaking Superman. I AM the NBA. I’m also your contribution to the $40,000.00 USD per night suite those bastards are in, so shut up. I don’t even know why I agreed to grace you with my old-ass presence. No one’s making any decisions until I get there.
David Lee: (underbreath) This isn’t 1999, Prince.
Shaq: Huh? Keep walking.
(Meanwhile, at the Hugh Hefner Suite at the Palms Casino):
D-Wade: Yeah, this is the front desk? Okay, great. This is D-Wa…Um, this is Boner Stabone. I am waiting on a few guests. Can you please give them these envelopes I am sending down now? They are confidential. Also, I am only to be interrupted if my crazy ex-wife continues to stalk and slander my hot movie star girlfriend.
D-Wade: Shit, man. Bosh! I mean Butch! What up? (Door opens.)
Chris Bosh: You know I don’t like it when you use that kind of language, Dwayne. If you want me to come to Miami, you are going to have to clean up that potty mouth. Now, did you have the orange blossom herbal tea I like delivered to the room? I can’t bear the thought of having free agent conversation without tea. Has my Sundance Kid arrived?
D-Wade: Did you hear that? Shhh….And no, Derrick Rose hasn’t arrived. I told you this is only a meeting of free men. Men who can fight for their future. You don’t need Derrick to be a champion. Screw Chicago, screw Tom Thibodeau and screw your Sundance Kid.
Chris Bosh: Don’t be bitter because there has been little to no Chicago talk about you. And I warned you about your mouth.
D-Wade: King!!!!! (Door whips open) What up??? Come in, man, come in. Look, I decorated the room in black and red streamers just for you!
LeBron: Nice, Bull colors.
D-Wade: HEAT colors! Shit. Reddick!!! You told me if I let you come you would take care of the décor and this is what you do. Get out. Take your GI Joe sleeping bag with you. You aren’t sleeping here tonight. Leave the Smirnoff Ice. I dig that shit.
Amare Stoudemire: I’ll give you a hint. I have horrible, horrible knees.
D-Wade: (opening door): Amare!
Joe Johnson: (Running down the hall before the door closes) Wait!!! Amare! You weren’t even invited to this shit! Give me my envelope back!!! LeBroooooooooon! Make Amare give me my envelope back!
LeBron: Alright, Amare, give Fun Size his envelope back please. Well, it seems as though we are all here.
D-Wade: I sent Dirk’s dumbass for herbal tea.
LeBron: All right gentlemen, let’s call this summit to order. As the ceremonial King, I will start by asking you to open your confidential envelopes.
D-Wade: What the fuck, LeBron? The envelopes were MY idea. If we are going to play together, we need to be able to trust each other. I can’t trust you if you constantly try to steal my thunder.
LeBron: Don’t you realize? Nothing about you bitches matters. It’s all about me. But I am a really awesome teammate, so if I join you, it will be more than King James. It will be more than me because “there is no me in team.”
Dirk: Da, I know you guyz arer din theare. Da…I can hear you snickering. Bosh! I bring da herbal tea. Da. Now, I vant in dat room.
D-Wade(giggling): Dirk, we have news that we are weak to infiltration. There is news of travelers from the desert. You must go to the lobby to stand watch. You will know what you are looking for when you see it.
Dirk: Da. The security of the summit is da upmost importance. Da. I vil stand watch. Then I vil enter da ruom.
D-Wade: Hehe. Sucka! Sshhh…Let him get down the hall. Phfeewww. That was close. We don’t want him to realize that we think his free agent status is worthless. His situation is like Titanic. He is Jack. Cuban is Rose. Rose isn’t letting go, Jack. She’ll never let go.
Bosh: That movie was breathtaking. I just adored it. Not as much as “A Walk to Remember” with Mandy Moore, but when Leo stood up there and was the King of the Wor…
LeBron: What? Nevermind.
D-Wade: Enough! Let’s get to business. Gentlemen, as the only person in this room who has won a championship, I will call this Summit to order. Open your envelopes…
(Gasps across the room)
LeBron: What the hell is this, Boner?
D-Wade: That is your helicopter ticket. I have arranged a game. A game I like to call Cow Chip Bingo. I have recently acquired the friendship of a farmer. This farmer has a cow. I have had him mark his field as a bingo board. When the cow takes a shit, it’s the equivalent of calling a number. I propose that the winner of Cow Chip Bingo chooses the destiny of each member of our group. We must move swiftly. I don’t want to miss a steaming pile of cow dung!
Joe: Cow chip, what? What the hell D-Wade?! I was told this meeting was serious. I was told that this meeting would help build an empire of talented men all choosing to play for the same team so that we could recreate the NBA to our wills!
Bosh: I was told this was going to help me become more well known. That it would be me getting me more prominent endorsements with Nike—maybe even a commercial with Tiger’s voice as my father’s as I stare blankly into the screen!
LeBron: That’s creepy as shit. Let’s roll. Did we get those VIP tables we asked for? How about the Smirnoff Ice? After this is over we’re Icing tonight!
D-Wade: Reddick brought the Smirnoff, but I kicked that little bastard outta here.
(The Palms Casino Lobby):
Dirk: Daaaa!!!! Shaq! Why are you covered in sand, my friend? You look like you have been on a long journey.
Shaq: I have. I was forced to do something I am not proud of. We have one less free agent to worry about. I thought I was stranded. It was my own personal version of Alive. I was forced….
Dirk: Da, you can tell me…
Shaq: I was forced to eat David Lee. I swear I thought it was the only thing I could do to survive!
Dirk: Shaq, my friend, come vit me. This summit has been nonsense! I vil fight for the general NBA population! I vil fight for you my friend Shaq! You should not have been put in that position. You are a has-been, but you have many titles. There are many who are talented who did not have a voice today. If we hurry there may still be time! Quick, to the roof! In the name of David Lee! Ve vil never forget!
(Roof of the Palms): Helicopter taking off…
D-Wade: AHHHAAA! You didn’t make it! Cow Chip Bingo will decide your fate!!!!
Dirk: Dat is not true! Daaaammn you and your championship ring, Dwyane!Dis was no meeting of free men!
Shaq: Damn you, Wade! I made you! Without me there would be no ring! This is not over. This is far from over! My kind may be close to extinction, but we will fight. We will fight for those who can’t fight for themselves!
So, alright. The NBA Summit might not go down exactly like that, but that’s how I picture it. I admit it. That version was a little extravagant. I’m sure the boys are planning to play a regular game of Bingo, or perhaps Clue to decide their fate. If it doesn’t go down like that, I would imagine that it is going to be just about as productive. The hype surrounding this so-called meeting is more than silly to me. So a bunch of talented players are getting together—so what? I hate to break it to you, but it isn’t going to come down to a gentleman’s agreement. It will be about money. The money will decide, not the players. They can’t force an offer or a perfect deal anymore than the owners can force them to choose a team. There are far too many variables. And for that matter, LeBron and D-Wade are not going to end up on the same team. I would be beyond shocked if they did. Bottom line? It’s the Jordan-Pippen rule. Yes, Scotty was an amazing player, but he was no Michael Jordan. LeBron and D-Wade are the Michaels. Bosh, and Johnson are the Pippens. Amare should stay put and ride with Nash into the sunset. Regardless of this so called potential Summit, the free agent situation is still as big of a toss-up as it was and will (in the near future) continue to be. And because you read my version of the summit, I am going to reward you. Here is a gathering of talent that I think we can all agree upon– a gathering that is worth talking about. NBA owners and coaches, take notes. That Vickie is as wiley as Wiley E. Coyote. She does have a secret. She knows how to get all the talent in the world on one team. Time to put the actual T&A in sports T&A w/Amy. Enjoy.