HoopsHype.com NBA Blogs - Gabe Muoneke

Suhweet postings! And I’m on the books and sites that you all gave me to research. I find myself more excited about learning more than anything else I’ve ever done. So thank ya much. Um… Last blog. Kinda monotonous to dwell on it but I’ll try to be brief and move on. There was more to the last blog and kind of a more serious side to the whole thing. The point really wasn’t simply don’t eat meat. I personally look at the scientific part of it and believe humans are omnivores. We have canines, right? I was just pondering out loud my dietary journey and how it has led me on to something much more important to a race’s existence. I am considering eliminating meat from my diet. As I previously stated, I’m on the path of becoming an opportunistic raw-foods vegan. (Yes, I made that up).

Rant time! (Skip down to hoops for the less boring). Everybody kinda went apeshit with the whole diet thing. Don’t get me wrong, I still believe it is very, very important to take care of your body thoughu what you put into it, but the point was really more to recognize. Recognize what I like to call Shahi-tan. I just feel it is more productive to bring to light similarities rather than emphasize differences.

Recognize the tools used to exacerbate self-hatred among people of different ethnicities yet same race. Diet is just one of those tools. The despising of one another has not been very productive to date. Separation is and has been man’s avenue to hate yet there remain those that will take offense to one man’s opinion that promotes oneness. Just another example of how, in some, the desire to hate and distinguish will always take precedence over rational thought. I’m the nimrod for attempting a back and forth with the illogical. Another miscue… I wasn’t making an attempt to discredit any other race or only give props to Bantus. My apologies for any offense taken. Playing overseas has killed all prejudices I once had. I have learned to enamour the differences and even more so the fascinating similarities we all have.

However, in my travels I have seen one constant: the unproductive state (internal and external) of Bantus. And ethnicity has never been a shield for anyone of the Bantu tribes. I simply feel the hatred starts from within, therefore it makes it easier for outsiders to reinforce it. So don’t take personal my Black Panther moment, just wanted to offer a band-aid to a broken arm. And my response was, a fellow Nigerian no less, telling me I might lose my head saying Bantu-Americans were no different from Bantu Africans. Ha! (Please don’t pay any mind to that. I’ll go home and back. Live there and visit the States… Head intact). This from a place where after hating everyone else for being different outside will then find another reason to hate within the country for being of different tribes then within the tribes more hatred for different skin shades. See what I mean by illogical? Sorry I brought it up. (Oh and… Bros. Na you sabi. U tink se d agboro fo Lagos no get Internet? 2moro se na if u waka fo leki na mista mad man u go c selling agege fo road. Commot abeg).

Rant over…

Back to the hoopin’. I am really loving Spain, man! I mean, really loving it. It is not easy getting adjusted to not playing much. The last time I did it (the euro thing), I learned to be very very efficient. In other words, you’d better find a way to get your 20 points in eight shots or less. Crazy, right? But it makes you damn good once you play in other leagues. When I went from Europe to Korea, I just remember being so hard to guard because I didn’t need 20 shots to get 30 points. My first year in Korea I was the fourth leading scorer, but I had 200 less shots than anyone in the Top 10 in scoring! So I’m re-accommodating myself to the style. The life is what I’ve appreciated most. You know, the small cars, little furniture, expensive everything. And, oh yes, the tight jeans. (Take a moment to picture that). The most encouraging thing is on the basketball court. You know it can be discouraging to lose as well as fight for playing time. But what is more discouraging is when you don’t see a solution. On this team, there is reason to be very very excited. The problems when we have lost (not often) can be easily solved and when they are… My Lord, these guys are good. I’m excited as h-e-double hockey sticks because I see what can and will happen. We are going to win big-time. And I can’t wait to be a part of it.

I just can’t get over Tiago Splitter man! The kid is just very efficient. When you see him move, you think you can take him… And you just can’t. He is so damn confident and nothing deters him. And he does it all with the same face. No smiles, anger or elation… Just stone face. You just have no idea what he’s feeling. That, my friends, is a rare talent. I’m feelin’ great and playing well in the time I get. I got two more months on my contract and I might return to the D-League to finish the season and be with the fam after the contract is up. But while I’m here, I’m about to enjoy every bit of the ride. Hold up… Are you as bored with this spiel as I am? Don’t know how much longer I can do the blog thing, man… All the sweet stuff is like freaking people out. I call my boys in the league and they’re like, “Man don’t say this…” Which I would never do. C’mon, put someone on blast? But you’d be amazed at what guys would take offense to. So I’ll try to keep it as non-incriminating as possible… Batches!

Abra-cadabra…

It was so hard planning a wedding. And paying for it. Seeing as how I already was married. But wifey-poo wanted to have another wedding in the U.S. for her friends that didn’t make the one in Congo. (Yep, I got married in former Zaire… Ali bomaye and all that stuff). That to me wasn’t the most amazing thing. It was the fact I chose to spend 50 house payments on something I already did… Again! It’s all good. She loved it and it was the right thing to do. So anyway, I was a pain because I was in Puerto Rico playing and we were literally on our way to the championship.

Quick…

I know George W. Bush. Seriously. He was Governor of my state for crying out loud. And where do you think the Governor of Texas works out when he works two minutes from his favorite university football and basketball teams’ training facility? People never believe me when I tell them that.

Back…

I had to finish the playoffs by July 1st and get married by July 3rd. The schedule was incredibly hectic and I just wasn’t thinking about anything else but the wedding. Then my agent calls me and says “Washington is very interested in you coming to summer league with them. They think you can add something to their team and they have roster spots… blah blah cah cah hah hah magarena, pula pala blah blah que buena. Hey Macarena!” (Something to that effect.) I heard it before. Was I tempted? Yep. Was I too old for that? Double yep. I told him, sorry can’t go. Getting married. He says, OK, I’ll tell em. That simple, right? Wrong! (with Charlie Murphy emphasis).

Habitual line steppas. Anyway my agent calls back two more times after I said I couldn’t do it because I was getting married on the 3rd saying Washington asked if I could come for the first practice, fly back, get married, then fly back to Washington for the rest of summer camp. What? Are they serious? They would allow that? Damn, they must be really interested. I mean I used to always hear guys tell me stories about which team was interested in them and I always hit them with the “OK” face but the “Yeah, right” eyes. I never believed it because I felt if a team is interested in you, they’d sign you Frodo Baggins. So this was my first time seeing a team go out of its way to get me there. I mean, wow. For all they know this is my first wedding so surely they know how serious this is for me. Well if they are willing to let me do that then… Sure, what the hey! They must want me.

I got there and I was so excited to be on the same summer league team as Ime Udoka and Mo Evans (two good friends) and be one of the “ones” Washington wanted and to be getting married the next day. I was on cloud 9. As Mo and I talked about how fun it would be to play together, have the wedding, and that an NBA team felt me good enough to let do all this, I digressed. “Mo, how hilarious would it be if I went back after today’s practice and they cut me while in Houston?” (I have a morbid sense of humor that is shared by one human being I know. Ike Nwankwo. If you saw how we joked, doubtful, you’d laugh along.) “Naw G! C’mon they would never do that! Why would they call you all those times to come down here just to cut you on your wedding night?” Hahaha! Come on, you have to be laughing by now. Anyway during the first practice I was so hyped and excited I played, jumped and ran like a school kid. I was lucky enough to be in a 2-on-2 drill with Ime on my team. And we ran ‘em off the court. “Computer Blue!” Next.  In short, I played well. Now off to my wedding.

I, with my everlasting pessimism, informed everyone I could that I was going to get married. “Please let me know if I should just check out and grab my bags. No biggie. I’d understand.” No prob, Gabe, just make sure you’re back the day after. Okay! So I left my bag in the hotel in DC and shot off to H-tahn! The wedding and reception were perfect. I couldn’t help joking with my wife about them cutting me. She didn’t know much about the league but she chided that no one could be that cruel. (Sorry, I still think the predictable ending was funny). After the ceremony, we came back to our suite to change and my cell rang. It was my agent… I swear I already knew. “Uh Gabe, I hate to call on your wedding night (no, you didn’t deep down you have the same morbid sense of humor as me) but…” I cracked up. Dude. My bag was still in DC! This has got to be a made-for-TV movie. My wife asked who it was. So I just told her it was my agent congratulating us. I just couldn’t tell her. She takes the basketball thing much harder than I do. So I just planned a longer and better honeymoon. Must have been good. It took her 3 days to even ask, “What happened with summer league with the Wizards?” I just told her I was a prop for a disappearing act.

I read the other day my story about Algeria and Ime Udoka might have been exaggerated. My friends, when you see anyone that was there that night, ask him. Our lives were on the line. This country is a country that, when we arrived was in civil war for over ten years. To this day a majority of the people there are armed to the tooth. They were killing each other for years and you think they gave a damn about some Nigerian hoopers? Check BBC’s archives. I don’t exaggerate nor do I entertain the idea of fibbing for the sake of a couple of “ooos”. Without Nigerian Embassy police escorts, someone would have been in trouble that night. Funny enough, all because of racism. While there I asked our bus driver if he was “Black” or “White” (he was neither. rather Arab). He retorted with shock, “Je suis blanc mais bien suer.” Then in an attempt to enter a bar in Algiers, we were turned away. I thought nothing of it but one of my teammates who had played in the Middle East was used to the “reason” we were denied entry. So he went into his “sharamuta” and insulting arabic act. “We are all Africans!” he screamed, pointing to his skin. The massive bear of a man tore his shirt off revealing hand-made tatoos from neck to stomach and said, “Jamais!” as half the street started at us at 10 pm armed with shanks and knives. Now tell me that is an exaggeration. (I don’t know about the rest of the guys, but I was freaked).

When I tell you I thought I would die twice in Algiers, think of this. I grew up in Houston. And been exposed to numerous situations where I faced guns and gangsters. And never once was I scared. So when I say, I was in that locker room texting my wife that I might not get out of that situation, it is true to the letter. Race. Race. Race. What a primitively arbitrary parameter.

I could give a damn what people decide to do because regardless I’ll be in a condo on an African beach when this rollercoaster I’m on called basketball is over. Just think and inform yourself. By separating myself, I might just lend myself to malleable (look it up) enslavement. You think I don’t know that when I’m talking to an opponent telling him his PG never passes him the ball? Divide and conquer. Rather than allow that, I maintain the idea of team no matter what. Because I know, whether right or wrong, if we are all in it together, we’ll win. 

Sorry for the lacking blog… Little out of it. Nne’m ochie (grandma) died. Sucks. Hardest part is being here sans the familia and it ain’t like I’m one of those big (name) players that can just leave and retain my job. (If it came down to it, and I had to go, I would). I grew up with her and she was one of the main reasons I changed how I take care of my body. Everything, every single thing in her body just stopped working.

And the doctor said, if it wasn’t for her diet, weight and results of the two, she would not have died. Terrible. But she’s better off than us all and thank God for what she left me. I don’t deserve it. I’ll be back with a vengeance next blog. But I must say, I don’t know how many more I got in me. So I guess that means I’d better make the next few gang-star! I’d love to explore with anyone things I know and could learn about diet. You can e-mail at hoopshype@hoopshype.com and I’ll get the email. Then I’ll email back. Rather not give my e-mail on this. Until next time… Close the door on your way out. I have no idea what I meant by that.

Shalom.

Howdy folks! I love reading the comments people leave now. I didn’t want to initially, but now I’m addicted. So rest assured, if you comment on HoopsHype… I dey see am ooooo. So shall I begin with a great big “Merci beaucoup” for the compliments. And as far as me punching an old opponent 10 years ago. Well, let’s just say one would have to be more specific. I punched a lot of guys. Wait for it… Bud dum bump. But seriously, I was what I was, 10 years ago when I was 19 (again, wait for it) and today I am who I am. So my apologies, not for being a punk, or a thug, or angry. I was just a jerk. That’s it in its simplicity. Luckily for me, my kids and my wife are now with me to wring the jerkness out of me. That and the experiences that continue to project themselves on who I have become and will be.

OK… Just to reassess. Point of the blog. Seriously, man! How whack would it be if it were just about some guy who didn’t quite “make it” in his basketball dream? That’s got to be the miniscule precursor to a much bigger picture, right? I mean I am writing this on HoopsHype, so basketball is kinda required. And trust me, I get as bored writing about the D-League as you guys probably do reading about it. So at the end of this I promise to give in to the request about Ime Udoka and his Gladiator moment in Algeria. (Hey! Don’t scroll down yet) But I must repeat, and I promise I won’t mention it again, this blog is about a journey, a life journey that I have had the privilege of experiencing because of one sport – hoops. The key word is life, which includes other people. And as long as this life includes other people my half-autistic ass will never allow this blog to be boring. Material is always readily available.

Quick quib…

Why do I call myself half-autistic? (I actually prefer quasi-servant’s but most will understand autistic better). I heard a doctor describing servant’s on Discovery Channel while in China. That was the only station I had in English. The doctor said the only difference between an everyday person and a servant’s is the majority look out the window and the mind has learned over years of one’s life to immediateley discern what is important and what is useless to one’s cognoscence. In other words, the majority look out and see that car, maybe those birds and that badass yella chick. Oops. Anyway a servant’s sees everything! Every blade of grass, every bird, every car, every tree and every badass yella chick. But anyway all that info confuses a servant’s and they find it difficult not to be distracted and interact with others. Too much info taken in and retained. That’s why for me every little thing is a discussion. A story. An interesting piece of info. My wife swears on it with a straight face. I probably should be a bit offended.

These experiences, like the D-League, are essential for someone like me. I don’t want to be typical. And rest assured if I had played in the NBA out of college, my jerkdom would have reached new heights and I would have been exactly that, typical. Chris Mihm, Mo Evans, Chris Owens, James Thomas. Just reeling off names I almost got into a fight with while at Texas. Yes, it is embarrassing. I was so damn lucky at Texas. Any other school would have kicked me out. As luck would have it (God yes, but I feel God grants His “luck”) I had coaches like Tom Penders or Rick Barnes. And no offense to those two, but I attribute the greatest blessing while at UT to Deloss Dodds. You’ll never hear his name and he’ll never look for the spotlight. But he cares more about the kids at the university and their future than he does about his own job. Great man. So beacuse of those people I have seen incredible things and people. My career could have easily ended my freshman year at Texas as it did for many guys. But it didn’t. Those people and those experiences have prepared me for anything. Even the D-League at this age.

We have started off 5-1 and CJ Watson is still playing like an NBA PG. It is a trip how no matter how many times he blows by the other PGs, they keep pressuring him. Here’s some advice: back up, nimrods. Yeah, he can shoot too but, geez, they can’t stay in front of him either. Better just hope he misses. (BTW, last game against Tulsa my genius idea wouldn’t have worked well. Check the stats).

Is this the same D-League I was in in ‘02 and ‘03? Man, we fly everywhere and the guys here haven’t paid for a meal yet. The city is nice and they wash your practice gear for you! Believe me, that was not a given back in the day. The D-League has come a long way. There is a CBA team in the same city as ours and they have been using every chance to demonstrate how much better they are than the D-League team in town (us). But honestly speaking… And seriously, no bias, cause I really don’t care… But the D-League has taken it to a new level. I mean, sorry guys. It’s not even close as far as having a pro atmoshphere and our dad would kick yall’s dads butts too.

I’m playing alright, I suppose. But not as well I was taught. Rick Barnes took me and showed me things that made it easy for me to score anyway anyhow. He’s made me a lot of money. So for me not to be doing better right now frustrates me. I mean if I’m gonna be here I might as well play like one of the oldest guys in this league. It’s gotta be, “Oh Gabe is killing? Well, geez, he should be.” And that should be all when it comes to hoops. Because let’s be honest, I have nada to gain and mucho to lose. If I play well… I’m supposed to. If I play poorly… Overseas teams? I’m dead.

Because, keeping it honest, do you really think guys like me aren’t thinking about those overseas teams that can pay the D-League buyout and pay you 250K+ on top? Shhiiiiii. I like money too. And it may seem superficial to be playing with that on my mind, but it’s true. I didn’t come here for that but… Oh, wait. I don’t ever think I talked about why I’m even here. I mean really talked about it.

Short version…

Nigerian National Team. After my recovery from a torn quad-tendon. I played well and even better against Dirk Nowitzki when we lost to Germany by 1 to advance to the Final 8 in the World Championship. Yes, Nigeria. People in my ear, try NBA one more time. “NO.” Try Gabe, try Gabe, try Gabe! No No No… Fine! Took me to the losing weight thing. At a burly muscular 271lbs… I tried everything. Fad diets, running, no weights. After months I was 258lbs and I was running on the track in Houston freaking Texas! Twice a day! Let me tell all those athletes that have heard about the no/low carb diet… Trash it. Doesn’t work and it’s unhealthy.

Anyway, I did some research and I figured out how to lose weight and be a beast on the court and in everything I do. Diet. I have gone from the Micky D’s diet to a raw organic diet. And it’s the best thing I’ve ever done. So I was in this incredible shape, cut from Charlotte and the offers I had overseas obviously were taken by other guys. So I figured what a waste it would be to be at this level athletically and just not play. So here I am. Da D League. Ha! What if I did get a call up? I’d swear it was a joke and probably hang up on the person calling. How appropriate, right? Ha! I am, however, glad I’m here. Because I get to appreciate things that I probably would take for granted. And I get to expand my mind by challenging what everyone else says a person my age should be doing. When I’m in practice and I am outrunning 23-years-old guys and seeing guys ice their knees afterwards and I’m not even sore, it just teaches me what I’m feeling… is.

It simply is. My mind and its strength are far more important than the stregnth of my body. Despite what NBA people are accustomed to saying, I would much rather have a guy willing to learn to do something than a guy who “should” be able to do something. The guy willing to learn will always, always achieve it. If you don’t believe it, please just watch one of Idan Ravin’s workouts. You know, the guy working out Carmelo Anthony in the Jordan commercial. If he’s training anything, it’s your mind. Your mind takes you anywhere. Can I defend like Bruce Bowen? No, but I can learn to. Can I shoot like Derek Fisher? No, but I can learn to. Can I run like Luol Deng? Nope, but I can learn to. Can I score like Kobe Bryant? No, chill out! Are you nuts? Hell no. Let’s not get dumb. But you get the pic. The more I achieve things phyically due to mental discipline, the more I see the mind really is the most important tool in basketball.

I remember at Jordan camp when I asked MJ how he did it. He just said discipline to do it over and over again. He told me things I listened to and things I didn’t listen to. One of the things I ignored was “take care of your body.” Anyone remember how old Jordan was when he won his sixth ring? 35. And he was still going. It’s no secret. It just takes discipline to do the right things over and over again.

I love hearing Gregg Popovich and George Karl coach. They both say something you don’t hear many coaches, NBA or overseas, say. “You don’t need to do it fast. Just do it perfect.” And they win. Give either one of those guys players that listen… They will find a way to win.

The mind is what I am learning to hone here in the D-League. So if you see me playing better, my mind is getting stronger. Human beings can, I really believe, use their minds to manifest something tangible. I read a biography on Albert Einstein where he was asked if he believed in God. His response was crazy! He said the universe is so perfect in its harmony of creation the laws of physics demand there be a creator. And he said in his studies he has seen such things in the physical (that which is seen) that indicate the existence of the meta-physical (that which is unseen). So am I saying we are walking around with ghosts? I’m saying just ask… What if? Because if I can use my mind to manifest something I achieve physically, I’d hate to miss out on it. Thank you, D-League. You have made me an alchemist/weirdo.

THE IME UDOKA STORY

It’s a trip when you get to know people. Ime was so quiet and I figured he was just some guy who could play with a Nigerian father. Well, folks in S.A., don’t be fooled. That dude in an Afr-I-CAN! I mean damn! The only thing non-African about him is his accent. We went to Nigeria, man… When they brought out the food I figured uh oh… He aint eatin’ th… What the?! Ime was tearing that Fu-fu (thank Jay-Z for everyone knowing what that is now) to shreads. I asked him about his adornment of the vittles. He said that’s all he ate growing up. Imagine my surprise when I saw he must have grown up doing the African ju-jitsu too.

When the National Team went to Algeria for the African Championships in Algiers, every team was on edge because the Top 3 squads got the invite to the World Championships. So after we lost to Angola in the semis and had to play Algeria for the third spot, they knew, we knew, everyone knew they had no shot. First quarter… Tactics. African ball, man. Trust me: as corrupt as can be. Despite all the cheating from the three-man (North African) refereeing crew they just couldn’t beat us. So the coach sent in their best player, who was injured but came in with a purpose. I think his name was Ali Bidane or something. We had the ball out of bounce under. He guarded me. As the ref handed us the ball, he turned, looked at me as if there was not a game going on. And pop! Not an elbow, not even a signature yours truly gutter. He decked me right in the jaw. I couldn’t believe it. And come on. I freely admit when I throw cheap shots. I wouldn’t hide it if I started to. I mean, I’m in the middle of basically middle eastern country playing the local team. I know better (read on to see my contradiction). He nailed me, we turned it over, and yes, my Rodman 101 class did well. I looked up court, saw both refs back and calmly asked him in by most polite French, “Pardon me sir, I object to you striking me.” Next thing you know… Both teams on the court going at it. Wow.

Imagine my surprise! (My cheeks hurt). That wasn’t the real brawl. After we won was the real issue. After the game, they were waiting for us to come out of the locker room. And seriously, I didn’t start it. Kingsley Ogwudire was in front of our team in an all-out tirade in his best Arabic. The next thing you know, there were three Algerian players on him. Everyone was engaged in combat save me, if you can believe it. And lo and ehold… Ime! He was taking people out like in Mortal Kombat. Finish him! Incredible. I was so out of it as I had five guys I was fighting (oh yeah, the crowd jumped in as the fight spilled over to the court of the championship game of Senegal and Angola).

In the middle of the whole thing I heard Ime, literally in mid-swing of another opponent say,”Watch back, Gabe” and he calmly, I mean calmly, smeared a guy who, as I turned to see his warning, jumped from the stands with a chair to probably kill me or knock me out to where the crowd would have. I mean, Ime caught the guy in mid air with a fist and calmly continued his dispacthing of oncoming people. He and other guys (yes, me too) were whoopin’ so many people the crowd backed up. True to the letter! But Ime had the most notches by far. As we retreated to the locker room to kind chants of, “You cudly blackies! We highly doubt your ability to leave this gym with lives intact” in French, (it might have been a bad translation) all I could do was marvel at Ime. This guy, I thought, was a quiet American guy was standing there – all his stuff gone (gym bag, wallet, shoes, jersey) – with a stick in his hand we tore off the walls of the locker room in the middle of North Africa quite literally with our lives on the line… laughing. All the while I was texting my wife that I loved her and might have a hard time seeing her again while she was watching the whole incident on BBC News. And Ime… laughing. He is and always will be my 9ja broda. Ime… Wetin happen bros? Abi na notin. Notin dey happen. To this day I don’t know how we got out of there. But that night we ate like kings at the Nigerian Embassy. And Ime was with us… Killing his Fu-fu.

Tell me how I could have seen a thing like that if I had made the NBA out of college! You just can’t make this stuff up.

Shalom.

Greetings to all the people giving well wishes! And wow the fellow Bantus! No shakin’. I no sabi wey d 9ja people go dey plenty. How far? That’s just a Nigerian style greeting, so no accusations of African cursing on the net. Moving on…

I knew in advance this blog’s focus was to give a real life outlook on that D-League experience with aspirations of NBA… Whatever. The thing is I have to force myself to be patient because I have a plethora of stories and what I like to call useless info cascading through my brain. Like when I was almost killed in Algeria with the Nigerian National team, twice! I think the coolest part of that was Ime Udoka catching and quickly dispacthing an Algerian attacker from behind me. (That boy ain’t close to a punk!) Or the day I got cut from Detroit on the day of travel for the first regular season game. (It was not as dissapointing as it was hilarious). But rather let me give the typical NBADL blah… And hopefully transition slickly to the cool basketball stories… pay-shents.

(Feel free to skip to ‘Rhetorical Questions’ for the good stuff and avoid the D-league rantings).

Oh. Right. D-League. Um… Me, 29. Everyone else, 12. That’s just to give an idea how eye-rolling this is for me. I mean, I try. I really do try to be one of the guys but DAYUM! You can’t tell some of these guys nothing. Do you remember I mentioned the two reasons a guy might do this? Do you really believe some of the participants in this basketball “The Price is Right” are doing this for a call up? The funny thing is… Yes! And they play with the wreckless abandon of a bull in a rodeo to show it. You try give a guy some of the knowledge you’ve attained over the years and try to get them to slow down, relax, be smart. Not only is it ignored with utter basketball daftness as if the NBA has lost half its players to heart attacks and are now in need of 6-foot-3 power forward that plays from a three-point stance, sometimes you are met with juvenile insults.

Insults.

Now I’m in the position where it’s a battle not to get perturbed even though I’m not playing for a call up (we’ll discuss that later) so local consequences are of no consequence to me. However, I can’t be dumb. The fact remains, there are those playing for the whopping $3,000 a month that have absolutely nothing to lose. On the other side of the Kobo, I have tons to lose. For me, it is quite literally a million-dollar investment. Overseas teams are just as critical as NBA teams. My father used to warn me all the time, “Ukpanna majue, o zuru ike na ahuo nnunnu.” It means: the grasshopper that won’t stop jumping will find rest in the belly of a bird. And I’m the dad-gum grasshopper. When a brotha get froggy… I can’t jump.

The other day in practice a wired-up (teammate) (I’ll try not to use names when it’s a negative thing. I have no intention to raze, rather inspire with experience) slapped the ball in my face when I stopped play because we were in the wrong spots. “Dude! Chill!” He looked at me and what do you think he said? All he had to say was “my bad.” Needless to say, he didn’t. Sorry is a hard thing to say but when it’s mastered, it’s very dissarming.

CJ Watson is probably the only name that comes to mind when asked, “who doesn’t belong here?” He’s just too damn good. The other name that comes to mind… Ha ha, you guessed it. But not for the reason you might think. Doing this still remains a bit moot in my mind but it’s more along the lines of lifestyle. I’m not a rap junkie. I don’t wear baggy flamboyant clothes. My southern vocab slang is good, real good. But that’s due to years of practice. To this day, it remains fake. I was raised in the United States, though I am Bantu by way of Nigeria. My entire family, from my parents to my wife, is Bantu. I speak five languages and think in all five (a fact I was just made aware of due to Trent Strickland posing the inquiry). And I am an education advocate. In short, I don’t belong. Never have. No matter how hard I try. I’ve done better by just not talking to anyone. Kind of like putting a wolf in a hen house and the head of the farm are the foxes monitoring the wolf and his behavior. It sucks. And the hens know it… So they just peck away and I can’t eat the… I mean the wolf… Sorry, the wolf can’t eat the chickens because he wants the privilege to one day join the pack. So in this case, laying low would be the words of the day.

RETHORICAL QUESTIONS

I think this is the fun part of the blog…

First of all, I’m a weirdo so I have these blanket assesments that are almost always never true… Huh? But they serve the purpose of satisfying my over-analyzation of the most minute details and making e sound smart. (Did I say that outloud?) Here’s one: Almost all questions a human being can ask are rhetorical, because the answer is obvious to someone or the person asking is ignoring the obvious. See? Not totally true but sounds good and makes me feel better. Why is 30 considered so old in the NBA? Why would a multi-million dollar entity feel they need to tell one insignificant person something to jade his/her perception of the situation? Why is this simple game made to seem like rocket science? The list goes on.

Here’s a pointer that will assist in answering all the questions. Don’t believe the hype. I was told I was too old to be considered for an NBA team this year. Yet I can give countless examples of why the people saying that are just answering for convenience. Of course, no one has ever come to the NBA for the first time after a great overseas career at 27-plus years old. And me being the geezer that I am, I see why Charlotte opted for the spry Derek Anderson. Am I saying I am better than Derek Anderson? Who cares? D.A. is an unbelievable asset to Charlotte and he is underpaid. They’re lucky to have him. What I’m saying is; don’t say that. Just say… Uh no. You suck. A lot easier to assess one’s future with the truth. The truth is age really doesn’t matter. What matters is, how many miles do you have on your legs? And how well have you taken care of your body? Seeing as I’ve transtioned to this raw organic diet thing, I see the human body wasn’t made to age quickly.

Skipping right to the way people complicate basketball. I was going yo use Matt Carroll and Ime Udoka as examples of how players are over-analyzed to a point when people can’t even tell that someone is just good. but after seeing what Kelenna Azubuike is doing… I had to use him solo. Geez! Who the hell scouted that guy out of college to justify him being undrafted? Someone tell me if he was a first-round pick doing what he is doing now at this age he wouldn’t be extended a five-year, 60 million contract. That SOB is killin’! I mean everytime I look at the stats he’s got 20-something. Nna maaaaan! Pya ha utali! (He knows what that means).

Or how’s this for complicating the game. Did you see in college basketball they moved all the players up a spot on the lane! Are you kidding me? I mean, seriously, how ass-toundigly absurd is that? Here’s a thought… Call a foul. I bet if you call over the back a few times guys will hate fouling out so much they’ll stop doing it. Thank you, Dalai Lama. I have transcended the constraints of the daft. Sorry, not to be rude. But c’mon…

I think people may have gotten the wrong idea on this blog, though. I’m by no means mad at the NBA. It is what it is. A machine. I love everthing about how the NBA works. And David Stern? I love him. I mean, I love hat dude. When they talk about Warren Buffet and Bill Gates, Mike Dell etcetera… They should include my man. Say what you will but when they offer a class of Stern Tephlon Chemistry 101, I’m there dude. (Did you see how he was talking to Congress when they charged him up about steroids and the NBA? Classic. Dare I say? Brilliant.) Anyway. I can’t be mad at something constant because it doesn’t benefit me. It just hupas because, to date, playing in the NBA (at least for a season or two) was my long-term goal. So the goals have simply transitioned slowly.

As for individuals in the NBA that influenced my positively or negatively, I don’t wish to bash anyone. I think all people are good at heart. I’m sure the guy I talked about in the first blog meant nothing by what he said. And I’m sure if he knew how it affected my play he wouldn’t have done it. For that reason if the outcome is fruitful, I will gleefuly divulge names. If it is not, I just won’t. See, I read other blogs and I rarely see the point. This blog is not, in essence, about me. It would be boring if it were. The point is to inspire. I want someone to inspire me to do something fruitful outside of myself in experiences I can relate to. And believe me, seeing as how I am what my wife calls a quasi-servant, my life/journey as an NBA “eh…not quite” D-Leaguer, everyone can relate to.

Here’s an example. A fan I saw at the Rockets/Lakers game told me something even more surprising than the fact he remembered me, if it’s true. He told me, every player ever to have a 30-plus point game in the history of the Pepsi Pro Summer League signed an NBA contract, until this year. Yep. Yours truly is now the first to do something. That’s just funny. Sorry it is. Ryan Hollins told me something I could barely make out over his laughter. He said I’d either be blackballed or find a career in writing. To that I say, when you’re out with a beauty queen, what’s better? To be blackballed or blueballed? At least the first assures you of the outcome.

The whole thing about basketball guys complicating the obvious is still in my mind, so I leave you with this skit that will be plastered in my mind if I don’t tell it. I call it “El Elefante en la Habitacion que Nadie Quiere Ver.”

Who says: Anyone see that elephant in here?
What retorts: What elephant? I don’t see an elephant. Do you?
How responds: Nah! No. Uh Uh. Nope…Unless of course you do. In which case I do too.
Who: Well… I think I do.
How and What: Phew! Thank God. We thought we were crazy.
What: That thing is huge!
Who: Well, it’s not that big.
What: Well, of course. By huge I meant small.

And so on…

Shalom!