Well I am here to reassure you all, it’s not you. That’s the reason I reckon back to the media guy we had a Texas (his name was Dave Saba). Dave, in a short two-minute session, taught me to slow down. When I do, what do ya know! It actually works. I speed think my way to utterance in every language. Even my native tongue of Igbo. Then when I slow down, I might be speaking French (the worst of the languages I speak) and my wife will say, “Geez, since when did you get so good at French?”

Interesting what a tranquil approach will achieve. Normally, my head is bobbin’ and weavin’. I just get started slowly then peak at a nice resonating “hummmm” of words as if my head had a hummingbird for a cerebral cortex. Or more like Carlos Boozer’s Rolls Royce… Have you ever heard one of those things start? Dude! That freaking thing must be made by NASA. It’s a damn ground shuttle that sounds like…

Gotta slow down. Things are bouncin’ around the ol’ noggin. Anyway. I find myself (only every once in a while) slowing down and making a lot more sense. Not necessarily more sense to me but to others. Strangely enough, I rarely say things I don’t mean. Quirky trait for a mentally ambidextrous man. So hopefully, today is a slow down day that can offer a few coherant blurbs that will inspire and entertain at the expense of this (true) globetrotting joyride. Beanpie! Cheeseflakes! Tesla’s Zero point gravity orange peel!

Sorry. Habit.

Let’s see, I went from France, to San Antonio where the Spurs were working out, to vet camp with the Jazz. OK. It’s official. I love Jerry Sloan. Other than losing more weight than Jimmy Hoffa (Get it?…weight. Waaaayyyyeeet-tuh! Forget it), that was the second funniest camp I’ve been to. Smelled like Detroit 2002. Which leads me to predict the Jazz in the Western Conference Finals this year.

That was the first NBA team I’ve been on in which every player was (in my view) earning his check. What does that mean? Sorry. Wasn’t meant to be. Maybe better put… The Utah Jazz’s hierarchy or players and pay is almost perfect (I think we’d all agree Paul Milsap is tad bit underpaid… for now). And every player on that team is just flat out good. It’s always good when your highest paid players are the best respectively in every basketball (team) category.

Deron Williams is their best defender. And he shows it everyday.

Carlos Boozer is the hardest worker, which in turn equals most efficient player and best rebounder. Check his FG%. I have never checked nor do I know how I’d begin to, but I’m willing to bet he’s top five in the league in points/shot attempts. Even though he made me miss for the first time in a year being 260, he’s the Wolverine of that team. The best there is at what he does. I’m still spitting out chips of teeth… I am very serious.

Most professional had to be Memo. Same thing everyday. When everyone was tired after a hard day’s practice the day before, he was in the gym early lifting and starting practice drills off sprinting. Everyday.

And the last catergory… Best basketball pimp (I made that up; it means you’re just good at everything without really looking like you’re trying) AK 47. Hard to explain if you haven’t been to a game to see him in person. Just really good at everything. I think he may have nephthalim blood in him.

And last but definitely not least, most country. Oh you didn’t know being country is an intergral part of winning in basketball? It is. Cuz country folks are laid back. And them’re attritbutes keeps yuh cool when everyone else is hootin’ n’ hollerin’. Jerry Sloan. He was the same as he was three years ago when I was in summer league. He said, “Morning Gabe.” He laughed at my ramblings and even asked, “You alright,” every time anyone, not just his stars, got hurt. He’s either a great actor or a good man. Both of which only us country folk can really be. Without going into too much further detail, it was a pleasure being around good guys who just so happen to be good at basketball.

A wonderous few may have been wondering where the hell I’ve been. Me too. I’m not sure I totally remember. I know I was in three, no four countries in less than a week and I ended up in China and now I’m learning Chinese. Not bragging. I’m actually a bit weirded out by it. And now, the President is African. Huh?! Where have I been? I turned on the TV, only to fall asleep to sweet 80s kung fu movies with subtitles.

Then (listen to this) heard partially understood Manderin Chinese rambling and I actually heard “Obama dwi. Jia yo!” And in the middle of my sleep I popped up. As I deliriously squinted my eyes, I reached for my phone and saw I missed a million calls and texts from my wife, “He won!!!” No way! I just figured somehow, in America, it would never happen. I told my wife the whole time, “Don’t get your hopes up. It’ll never happen. Somehow McCain will win.”

Not only did he not win, he got the piss beat out of him. I couldn’t believe it! It was so big on so many levels, I didn’t know where to begin. I haven’t been in a good mood for a while. From France to Texas to playing like hot garbage in Utah’s camp. I’ve just been in a bad mood lately (if you asked me to explain why, it would take a while. As I’m not completely sure). But now… I was experiencing ecstasy. Work with me, as a Bantu man, it is difficult not to get a little America weary when you experience senseless and illogical hatred not even animals demonstrate simply because of the color of your skin. But that day… That day America shut us all up. Not just an African-American man, a Bantu-American man in every sense of the word is the President of the United States of America! Say it with me…”Obama.” Say it again, “Obama, Obama, Obama.” Sounds almost as good as Mufasa. Hate on America? You simply can’t anymore. Not me, not anyone. You think this could happen anywhere in Europe? Don’t mistake my excitement for distiguishing between  polititians. I still don’t care. To me it’s all a circus of distraction while we all bend over. Something I like to call Johnny Cochran’s, “Looking at the shiny birdie.” That makes no sense. Birds aren’t shiny, well let me just stare at it until I  see what’s so shiny about it. Keep looking you’ll see it.

For me Obama means my kids and my people’s kids can find a new self esteem of possibilities for themselves. You don’t have to be a rapper nor an athlete to be “cool”, son. Now you can appreciate those things for what they are – entertainment for a temporary escape from life. It’s not real. It is more than just a Bantu man is President. It’s much bigger than that. But people like Bill O’Reilly will simplify it. Why Obama got elected, why McCain lost. Who cares the result is the only important parameter. Or an even better remark from the media, I love this one, “Blacks only voted for him because he is Black (hate that word)” Duh. So what? Is being that ignorant any worse than that lady saying that she couldn’t trust Obama cuz he’s “an Arab” on national TV during a McCain rally? We should all have to take a test to insure one is competent enough to turn on a light and/or spell “U.S.A.” before being allowed  to vote.

What, a hoops blog right? I just find myself looking for things to inspire me to not want to do something else. Like I’m over here in China and I should be thinking about hoops, right? You know what I’m thinking? How many cool things I’m gonna miss out on while here. Remember I told you about that new restaurant Fino Rosso of my boys I went to go see in New York? All I can think about is going there in December and how can I make it there with my wife to see Gypsy Kings. Yes, I like Gypsy Kings… Vas te chercher! Is that weird to want to watch Gypsy Kings when you’re playing ball for money? Well in looking for inspiration in basketball, I think I found it. You know in the ACB (Spain) some teams will let you put a nickname on the back of your jersey. Well, my new inspiration is to play in the ACB again, if for nothing else to put Obama on the back of my jersey for the whole season. No one steal that…

Despite what I might project, I really like basketball even today. And playing in Europe actually made me re-like it again. But on the flip side it also re-opened my loathing for travelleing 14 hours next to the guy who thinks, “Yes, I can get my knuckle in my nose without taking off my wedding ring,” only to again play in not-so-not-rag-tag-style leagues. Figure that one out. This is the perfect example of what my dad told me that I never believed when I was a kid… Never choose a job for money, it will never be enough. The money is good and pays the bills but… Whatever. I’ll get over it, dad.

I experienced Jerry Sloan and thought, this is probably the same practice John Stockton and Karl Malone did and I’m doing it. The same ol’ same, ol’ and he keeps winning (even with Williams out). And I wonder: How the hell does he do it? Yes, great players. But it can’t just be the coincidence of great players. Sloan keeps winning and has even done it with less. Other NBA teams have great players and lose (very well, I might add). He doesn’t change no matter what firestorm is going on around him and still manages to be human. So the next ref that T’s him, I don’t care how nice he talks to you, you’re mine. Even though I never want to coach or ever be in politics, I still want to learn the attribute I have seen in the past two months. I want to be a chameleon. Just like Jerry. And so far just like Obama.

A proverb I love (in English even though it loses meaning and umph) is, the chameleon doesn’t care whether there’s a forest fire or not, he will always strut the walk of confidence. I think I’ve used that one before but it’s cooler now. Bumble bee tuna, bumble bee tuna.

But I think I leave pretty obvious hints. People will always offer his/her assessment of exaggeration. That is why I wish I had like a documentary film crew following me. The reason being; as I walk through this life I would estimate 75 percent of what I experience, I encounter it with one thought in mind: “No one will ever believe this is actually happening.”

Then when they see some poor chap filled to the brim with pressure curse out his Israeli pro league coach on The And1 Show or whatever it’s called, everyone will say: What is wrong with that nut? But seriously, how can you take a guy who probably never left his “hood” talkless of the Country and put him through what he has no shot of comprehending and expect him not to act as ignorant as he is? Ignorance, not as an insult but as a money succubus camping out in your bank account. Because ignorance is expensive. And not only to me.

Is it just me or does it bother anyone else to know that he/she is totally ignorant of a situation that consistently affects one’s existence? Of course if it affects me in no way (I think is rather rare), I choose ignorance. And many prefer the comfort of ignorance.

Where I differ and where my problem lies is I don’t see much that doesn’t affect me. If there is some sort of conspiracy that kills the bees in North America, I find it in some way affects me. Short version, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” I actually believe that. I don’t think the knowledge of certain “shut up and live” secrets suffers me to be some sort of champion against conspiracy in any way. But rather, that knowledge allows me to act accordingly (or simply how I choose how to re-adjust the situation). Let me stop… I get to France, right? Well that’s where the good stops.

And here’s the thing… Moving up the money ladder in Europe I sort of liken to Dante’s stages of hell (thank you, Icee).

When you’re making the lower-end cash, you’re in hell. Being in the bowels of the beast in many ways is easier than the descent to ascent. Why? Well, you know the tormented head sticking out of the ice is right behind the 7/11 right before you get to the giant chewer of man. Basically, you know where everything is and you know what it is. When you’re making 3K a month, it’s all your fault, you suck and we’ll send you home with no money if you say a cross word or make a bad crossover. That’s hell. But during the descent to ascent you get a plethora of challenges you didn’t get in hell.

At this point, somebody will say I’m lying about what I signed for in France and now that I’ve gone through this, I see why. So I won’t talk about the amount but believe me money has everything to do with it. Rather, I’ll just tell you what my old agent (we’re still friends) and all my close friends said when I told them I was considering France (normally for young upcoming careers not really established, but my family in Francafone-ish and well… the money) and this is what they’re offering. Everyone I asked said the exact same thing, “Check the contract again. France doesn’t pay like that.”

What do I know? I’m a Euro neophyte. The echoing statement was, for that much they will give you such a hard time and if you don’t play like Kobe Bryant they will look for a way out of it. Ignorance is bliss my tailpipe. If I had known, they could’ve offered a million.

It began when I got there. “Wow, you’ve lost a lot of weight.”

I heard it from everyone from the Coach to the trainer. Since when? You guys can vouch for me right? Haven’t I been 225-230 for a year now? Don’t these guys read HoopsHype.com? I heard it so much I knew it would be an issue. After two weeks of running every piece of fat off my waist, we played a friendly game. Pardon my hesitance to take it seriously. I was distracted by the dude whose jersey was a different color than the rest of his team. That and their legally declared “dwarf” at point guard (Muggsy was Yao Ming to this dude).

After 10 minutes on the court and 4 points for yours truly, 25 team turnovers, a barrage of guys trying to make a name for themselves at the expense of your high-priced head and a 20+ point win (if you can believe it) by our team, I had to endure a five-minute tirade about how I thought I was a superstar. I was a bit taken aback because I had no idea where it came from. As I explained the issue to a friend who played for this team, all he said was, “Told you so, they’re looking for that way out.”

What? I’ve been here two weeks! They said I wasn’t playing hard. Sell that to anyone who follows basketball. Go back to the archives of freaking UT reporting where I was described as “a player oozing talent… but often seems bored.” I didn’t play for Duke. That’s how I play. Then they said I was a shooter and not athletic enough. Not athletic enough?! “Get you Bevo droppings! Half off!” Have they ever even seen me play? Hey Vince, by the way they ask me for your number. Do you mind? Bottom line, they were searching, stretching for anyway to correct the fact that the starting 3 man (me) was their tallest starter. How’s this for stretching? They said I’m not the player that played for Nigeria vs. France in 2006. 2006. Well, they got me on that one. I’m not the player I was in 2006, I’m the player I was 6 months ago with Tau… in 2008. I left the dumbbells in Japan.

Anyway, they had no ammo (at least any that made any sense) so they did what any respectable organization would do… They made something up. According to the French media, after ASVEL was dismantled by 24 by a second division team, the team decided to part ways with me. Wait a second? I wasn’t there. Seriously, they tried to make it seem as getting pancaked by a team with the budget of my groceries was the reason the team decided to buy me out even though I didn’t even travel with the team to the game. Truth is they got reamed all by themselves. Then on top of that, they said “my behavior was deplorable.” What did I do? I wonder if I can sue. Anyway, the only way I wasn’t screwed was with the money I got for three weeks of work.

Ignorance of France cost me money and their ignorance of me cost them as well. Tons of details were left out that simply would flip your tupee. I can’t help but think, how would someone else even more ignorant about Europe than me act? No way can you expect a guy just out of his inner city district to have the slightest idea what he did wrong in this situation. Nothing. You just didn’t know.

We all as a whole don’t know, don’t wanna know, think they know and/or insult those that choose to expand his/her scope of knowledge and understanding. I know for a fact that I don’t know but because I want to know, I ask. I played in Iran and saw a huge dude who could move. Wasn’t great, but I said he should be in the NBA. I was told I was crazy. He signed with the Grizzlies. Isn’t America supposed to hate Iranians as part of the “axis”?

Here’s an mind flipper (at least for me it was). While in the Embassy sector in Dubai, I saw an incredible line wrapped around the U.S. embassy. The guy accompanying me to get my visa in the Iranian embassy told me, “Can you believe all those people are Iranian. They come to Dubai to get U.S. visa ’cause there is no embassy in Iran.” (There is actually a Swedish US interest office there that plays the role).

Before I could say he was lying, he began greeting all the people waiting in Persian and quibbing them about the trouble they’re going to encounter. Dude! What are they doing? They’ll never get visas! Right? The dude looked at me like I was ignorant and said, “They get them. They go through a ton of trouble but most of them do get visas.”

How can that be? I couldn’t get my cousin here from Nigeria with Merlin’s hat and a Swiss account. Don’t call me an idiot for saying what I saw, just ask what if it’s true? And think, how can people from a country that is considered a terrorist state readily and with such confidence attempt to enter the U.S. but a country like Nigeria, whose citizens are absolutely no threat to the US (at least non-419-ily) find literally impossible odds to even visit America?

I’m actually encouraged to see how much I really don’t know. It was very refreshing to see how incredibly nice Persians are and how absolutely nothing there ever made me feel scared. I think there is a lot I don’t know. So rather than say someone is crazy for any perception I just take the info and process it for myself.

Quite often, when one’s beliefs of reality are challenged, it sends us into a tailspin. Like the whole NBA-guys-signing-overseas. One guy made a comment about, “when Brandon Jennings doesn’t get paid.” Remember Dante’s stages of hell? Well, the team he’s on and the money he’s making is not the journey any longer. He’s not even in purgatory. He’s in a mid-level of heaven. He’s getting every penny, my friend. There are clauses with top teams that would make them not paying him the equivalent of the Rockets not paying him. Once you get to “heaven” (big money plus big team) you get paid.

There are a number of things players who are in “heaven” just don’t deal with that the players in purgatory deal with everyday. People accept the money and basketball being impossible to match outside the NBA and for the most part they’d be right. But every once in a while you get some pretty thought-twisting anomalies. Do you realize Josh Childress after taxes makes pretty much the same or more yearly than KG? (Although that might have changed as Josh might be experiencing the same I am with the Euro skydiving).

Let me tell you for no self compliment, there are good players everywhere and even more money in places you’d never imagine. I saw the highest jumping guy I’ve ever seen in person in Syria of all places. I’m telling you, I’ve seen every NBA leaper and they don’t hold a candle to this guy Vincent Jones. This guy is close to seven feet tall and can put his sternum in the rim. How in he11 did he never play in the NBA? I think he makes like half a mil in five months in Afghanistan or something (joking… only a little. I think he’s in KSD).

How about Marcus Haslip? You think they’ll ever let him leave Spain? Christmas, that dude can play. And he has the athletisism of a half horse-half lemur. Please Youtube that guy’s back facing the basket vertical 180 over a guy last year.

I got a new one, he’ll be a first-rounder. A kid I just played with named Bengare is a young KG with no confidence. Give him a coach and 20 pounds and a shiny new NBA contract and you’ll all know him.

You think people hate when you throw a wrench in their universal reality? I’m about to piss Charles Barkley off (he’ll never read this, I hope). He made a statement about no one caring who won the Greek championship as a counter that there was no worry about superstars leaving the NBA to play in Europe. He’s right no-body. LeBron and his crew (Carmelo, Dwyane) and the Monster of Kobe (a crew of his own) are not any-body(s). LeBron especially. Have you seen the company he keeps? What do you think Bill Gates, Warren Buffet, Prince of Wales, Sultan of Brunei and whoever else that dude hangs with, care about? Championships? Either Charles doesn’t know (doubtful) or the better explanation is he was doing damage control to maintain control.

Let me break down a possible scenario right now for you. Not knowing will cost everyone who  doesn’t know. LeBron seems to me as someone who knows more than most of us. So I don’t see him losing a penny. How many billionaire owners are in the NBA? Now. How many are in just Russia that just don’t give a damn about money? Fine. LeBron might not really take a deal worth $50 million a year but the mistake he made was giving out the number because now I will bet you there are at least 6 teams preparing their portfolio to present that exact number to LeBron next summer. OK. What if LeBron asked for $40 million in advance and $1 million a month, a private jet, house on the French Riviera and stock options in the owners TV company after his company gets the TV rights to all Euroleague games LeBron plays in? He’d get it. So let me get this straight… The most he can sign for in the NBA is about 6 years, $120million? So that’s what? $60 million over 6 years after taxes approximately? He can make basically that in one year net living as a king in some paradise and then make even more off his comeback to the NBA after one year in Athens, Barcelona or Moscow? And he’s 24. He wouldn’t do that? None of the aforementioned basketball juggernauts would do that? OK. If you say so.

Ignorance has always been my downfall. I knew that team found out Amara Sy was available after I got there and were looking for a way to get him there. And that knowledge kept me from giving them the ammo they were looking for to validate what they did. (Ike’s antics didn’t make the trip back to Houston any more fun). Maybe it’s been the knowledge that I was ignorant is what made situations worse. But if I didn’t know I was duped wouldn’t it just continue to happen? Then I’d probably blame someone else or even worse attribute the consistency of screwage to bad luck. It ain’t bad luck, I’m just as trusting as a three-year-old and as naive (dumb) as a rock. It’s all good. This will end up being better than bad.

To be honest, I felt I signed too quick and for too little in the first place. Not to mention I signed in euros. And if you keep track, the day I signed was one of the, if not the highest, the euro ever was against the dollar. Yeah beer? Please. It has steadily plunged everyday since. I’ve lost a ton! (at least to me) My dumb tail saw the dollar rising this fall and told all my boys, “sign in dollars.” I started doubting my own advice when that thing hit 1.61 to the euro and I thought I was doing my thing when I signed in euros. The rate was dropping so fast, I just stopped looking. So it’s a blessing in disguise. Now I bet you can guess what I’ll sign in next… You guessed it. Yen! Dadgumit. See you in Libya.

Shalom.

In that sense, I don’t think I’ve changed. Nor will I ever. Even in high school when I saw a guy cloaked in hype, I was never mad or jealous. I just loved competition. I love emptying my pockets and playing poker on the court until someone bluffs. Basketball has always being more of a game of chess to me than a sport, really. Because once we’re on the court, no one can help you. No newspaper, no magazine, not even your contract. It’s rather easy to never to be afraid to prove it on the court because I’m not too good to get whooped.

Every once in a (blue freakin’ moon) when it does happen, it’s like a baptism. Afterwards, I come up cleansed and prepared to dish out double of what I received. And this summer I have been blessed to equip myself with tools that enhance my mind and body. First the hell hot yoga… When you’re done, you feel like spaghetti but like a baby. And it doesn’t take long to go from touching your ankles to grabbing the bottom of your feet.

The ju-jitszu was as sweet as usual. I like that stuff way too much and next summer I want to couple it with akido. I really have to get a one-on-one teacher. But it’s hard as hell to keep up with when you’re hoopin’. One has to consider the team’s investment. So obviously, it was prudent to stop after I signed. One day though, I’ll be able to travel to Bombay, Rio and Henin and really study. I incorporated some MMA for the first time. I used to wonder why those guys are so ripped. Now I know. They do like 500 push ups a day! 25 here… Hand walk… 25 more…10 burpies… Hand walk… Etc. Really scary when you think of these guys trying to punch a hole in your head. They probably could.

And lastly, I saw no loss of strength with the diet. Actually got stronger. I trained with a speed trainer down here in Houston named Rayford and went from a 4.9 to a 4.59. I was a bit miffed though seeing as how I was fast for any size in college. But screw it, I don’t play football. Anyway, I am satisfied that I added to myself outside of my sport and hopefully, as a person I’m moving to be better. Because, as a basketball player, you (you know exactly who you are) are gonna get it. Watch tape.

As for the things that took away from my lifespan… NY. I’m sorry. How do ya’ll live there? Every time I go there, it takes a year off my life. It’s like an American Lagos. They say traffic is bad in Houston… Have any of you ever been in people traffic? Bloody hell!

And try asking for directions. “Excuse me ma’am… Pardon me.” I should have traded the Texas accent for the Nigerian. It might have done me better than what I got. I’m on subway trains switching and swirling for three hours and somehow get close to where I’m going. In that wake, I found the nerve to slightly tap one of the may goers by that kept ignoring the country accented pleas of this obviously out of place giant. She did stop though and I’m not sure… I take that back… I’m sure now I wish she didn’t. This girl stopped five steps after I tapped her, slowly turned around like I was in a Godfather movie, (what the hell was she about to do to me, man?) gave me the most evil look I have ever seen… Like five seconds this look, man… Curled her lip, sucked the spinach out of her teeth and kindly told me I had feces on my face and walked off. I think I wanted to cry. Cause I have no idea how to describe how that felt. I was lost, and confused and no one gave a rat’s patooty. Now when I tell the story of Medusa, it’s funny as hell but when it happened I felt like a seven year old boy who just lost his mommy in Toys R Us.

Anyway, I found my way to, I guess, the LLITS… I don’t know what the hell it was called, Long Island Train Station, I guess, and saw a sign that said information. “Oh praise God!” “Uh sir,” he rolled his eyes and said “yeah” as if to say I was bothering him. (I know it sounds cliche of NY, but I swear it was like this but it faded to nicer and nicer as I got to where I was going… Watch). Let me tell you, in Texas when that reaction is given to a customer, 9 times out of 10, that person will hear something of it. You know some smart alec retort that could escalate to a “Where’s your manager?!” But I was in such disarray and slightly intimidated, I kinda clinched my map close to my chest like a squirrel, eyes and all and ask the guy I could barely hear behind his 10″ think glass how long it was by taxi from where I was to Glen Cove in Long Island. (Yes, I was done with the subway and was ready to pay a mint to a taxi above just to take me there). Dude looks at his watch like I’m a complete moron and laughs slightly and says, “bout two howhaz (hours)” What? I thought NY was a (geographically) small city! OK, so how long by this train? One hour. OK, when’s the next train? In an hour. WTF?!

Folks. I was so distraught, I sat down in front of a underground kiosk and ate popcorn with butter. Barely noticed it made me sick. In the end, I made it to Glen Cove and ate at my boy’s new restaurant called Fino Rosso. If it weren’t for that dinner along with how nice (I should probably say how much nicer but at this point I was numb) the people were in and on the way to Long Island, I would have just found a hole to crawl in. It was like a different country. The walk was pleasant and everyone gave me directions. It was so refreshing I walked to Igor’s (Rakocevic) new eatery. I passed up what everyone was telling me was J Lo’s pad (didn’t know they made houses like that outside of Texas).

Anyway, if you live in Glen Cove or in NY and wish to exhale from people giving you the doo doo face look, you gotta hit up Fino Rosso. I sat outside, felt like I was in a classic Italian covey in Milan (played there) and ate a perfect meal. When I first heard of Igor doing an Italian Restaurant in Long Island, I asked him why not in Manhattan? I mean, capital for investment was not an issue. Location right? Well I didn’t know much about NYC, did I? Perfect spot. Is there an airport in Long Island? I think next NYC trip will land there.

In this time of signing and free agency, no matter how much teams have been fooled and burned, hype will always be the deciding factor in who gets the pay day. You just have to hope the hype favors you at the time it’s your turn to sign. Some guys are worth more (Baron, Mo, Ryan, Kelenna, congrats bros. I am a fan and you are a $50 million player. You’re young, after this contract I hope you get it). Some guys you want to borrow their picture of the GM in a compromising pose. But for all the guys, no matter how much under or over you get… Get it. It’s a blessing to get it. Find a way to smile about it. But when the money is out the way, it comes the time to enjoy the competition. Now on the court, let’s play a game of chess.

The court is the stage we can leave all the incompetence of those who swear they know our hearts. Cause that is what separates the cream of the crop. Body takes you so far. Spirit, mind, heart separates. Then in the end, they’ll add the hype and claim to know the best. And no one will care except them. Guys will sign the biggest contract wherever it is and keep it moving. When I read Olympiakos was offering Josh Childress that contract initially I said,  “He wont take it.” As the biggest obstacle for a star like him going overseas is the perception of life. Then I read, he’s going the Athens to be courted by the team and I remembered he went to Stanford and knew he would do it.

It is a trend that I assure you will continue as long as the offers are there (and I think they’ll get higher). Even before the high school kids (Brandon Jennings?) signed in Italy, I told my wife our son would never play in college if he was a Dwight #2. Can you imagine that dude playing against Duke or Kansas? I commend Jennings’ parents for not giving a damn. He’ll play a year and come back (if he doesn’t get a monstrous offer… Remember, I said it) and be a top 5 pick in the NBA.

In the end though, Europe is a  different monster and it is your adaptation to the culture, not your talent, that will determine one’s success there. I’m not going to sit here and say the players in Europe are better than NBA players, because they’re not in the sense you’re thinking. The NBA is full of freaks. Europe has few to none. But they simply don’t make mistakes. So in that sense, they are better. Cool. Now everyone is armed with knowledge and a nice check in the back pocket. Now get yo ass on this court! Ha ha ha! I’ll get you smurfs. No one can save you! Not Papa smurf, Liono, He-Man. Not even the Hype Monster. He’s dead and I buried his behind under my red dirt yard in Onitsa.

Ugwumagana si na o mang ji maka oku na gbo ozala na o gaa ehapu igba nwogala ya.

Until next time… Have a nice day.

I always look forward to the summer. I get to add something beneficial to myself. Or even better, remove something unproductive. I’ll literally do anything and everything that you just don’t expect a large, basketball player of Bantu descent to do. And I promise, I don’t do these hippie things to be different. I just want to see if any of these “secrets” really work. Summer goal: Turn into a basketball leviathan. Plan of action: Yoga, diet, meditation, exercise. Notice how the plan of action did not include the sport itself? I’m trying to expand on something new that worked out well for me this year. I executed that plan of action but with flaws.

1. I wasn’t consistent with the yoga. So I plan to go to Austin, where I met a 50-year-old yoga guru who can do backflips. He’s got plans to put me in yoga sessions in a 102 degree room. That ought to be fun… (Insert fart noise with thumb pointed down here).

2. I started the diet thing about this time last year and if you all have followed this journey, you know I am far different now compared to when I started. Won’t beat a dead horse.

3. Meditation… Sorry, can’t make that sound cool. Just trying it because everything else in this way has worked well. The good thing is, if you’re a baller and you don’t wanna try some fad because it sounds like something new to do but doesn’t really work, I’ll be the ginny pig and I’ll let you know. Because if it’s some bovine boo boo, you know I’ll say it.

4. Exercise. I really don’t do much. The biggest thing I think got me physically stronger was Brazilian ju-jitzu. I didn’t really get good at it until I lost weight. I thought at 270 lbs, I’d smack around everyone I saw. Then I tasted a rather delectible headlock from a barely 6-foot, 175 lbs Boricua that put me to sleep. And when I woke up, I was surrounded by Snow White and her seven dwarfs. Then I woke up again. It wasn’t until I was slim that I could actually submit people.

Anyway, that’s the summer plan and I plan to chart and blog about the progress every month, so we can see together whether the mainstream has spewed the garbage we all suspect it has all these years or if the idea of bettering one’s mind, body and spirit through enlightenment is not just a hippie’s LSD fantasy dreamed up in the 70s.

Unfortunately, the only thing I’ve been able to do so far is the diet and keeping up with my yoga everyday. I did the Puerto Rico thing for a second and it was incredible. I think it was the first time I went there and really enjoyed the life it has to offer. I didn’t engulf myself in the blackjack table this time (as is my usual vacation in PR). I just played ball, ate fruits growing on the trees outside (seriously! I didn’t even know mangos grew in PR until this year and I’ve played there eight years), jogged, chilled on the beach and swam in paradise. Now there’s got to be something to this “Qi” thing. I was so relaxed, engergized, at peace, in balance… Man, I don’t know what the hell to call it. I simply felt incredible. I did something I never did in high school, college or pros (not even in China). I had a game I scored 22 points in the first quarter. Now look… Anywhere else and I wouldn’t even have mentioned it. But anyone who knows the PR league, knows that is the second best comp you will get outside the states. Just ask Carlos Arroyo.

Anyway, the point of that was, damn! How the hell could I never do those kinds of things when I was younger, faster, str… Well the answer is, maybe I wasn’t any of those things back then except younger. And dumber, yeah… Maybe dumber. Maybe. I guess all those times my Caucasian bros invited me to the lake in Austin (Mihm, Luke, Ogden… Actually Chris Ogden wanted to go hunting. He just wanted to pull the Dick Cheney on me. But I think he likes me now), I should have gone. God knows they were always less wound up than me. That wasn’t so hard seeing as how I was tighter than… Stop it. I lost track…

Now that I’m done dealing with things like my youngest bro getting jumped by a bunch of backwoods, inbred, cowardice, uneducated Jerry Springer rejects, I can concentrate on the civilized. If you could just step into the courtroom I just left in, ready? Mitchell, South Dakota, you would find it hard not to be as relieved as I am right now. Long story short, my lil’ bro got a crash course in why you shouldn’t feel comfortable in places you might not be welcomed. And even though the (four) guys are on trial now (for a misdemeanor) even though they (49 yrs, 30+, 25 yrs and 23 yrs) jumped a 20-year-old and beat him good enough to break his nose in 2008 in America, I’m not mad. Because when I saw them, they were so pathetic all I could do is laugh and get mad at my brother for not being sober enough to beat the flies off the crippled warthogs when they jumped on him. Lord, if you’re listening can we rewind time and have them jump me? Please? Cause I don’t drink. See how uncivilized and unproductive having to even address this nonsense is? So now I’m back at the house and, like I said, back to the civilized.

Quick…

Did you see KG’s follow-up dunk on Gasol? Da-yum…

Back…

I get to watch Kobe now. Ha! Beat that. I just wish the Lakers could have tied the series. Funny thing is, this is my first time calling the champ in advance. And now, I kinda want them to lose. Sorry, sorry Boston… I know. I just wanted Kobe to get some redemption. And it gets even weirder… I don’t particularly consider myself a Kobe fan. I confuse myself, I swear. I love… Let me rewind. I absolutely enamor Kobe’s game. I think he is the absolute definition of “work equals production.” Have you ever seen a player that makes every move and every shot look like he practiced them each a million times until the very way the ball goes in repeats itself? When John Lucas said Kobe was better than Mike, I thought he was nuts. Whoa tonto… Not saying I think he’s better now but those who believe it. (Deep breathing G) The people who say Kobe and Mike are comparable in skill have an argument and I’ll leave my opinion here now. Fell free to flush at any moment.

Wait… What the hell am I talking about? I just gotta a flash in my head of the final shot MJ made against Utah for the sixth ring. I can’t ya’ll, sorry. I just can’t. He’s the greatest. That’s right, Ironman, Superman and MJ, in that order!! Vete pa’ carajo!

On the cool though, is the series boring to no end unless LA ties it up? Boston seems too big in the paint and too big in the pants to lose. My vote: Put Mbenga, Mihm, Bynum (I know he’s hurt), Odom and Gasol in… At the same time! Oh, that’ll show ‘em! Rebound that, beeeeyaaatch! Please send your medical recommendations to hoopshype@hoopshype.com.

People stay with me here. I’m starting up my ju-jitzu again and staying steady on the yoga and diet and we’ll see what the end product is together. I’m still in the process of finding the balanced “Qi” if it even exists. So I am truly setting in motion the house on the beach thing in Africa so I can find that qi. Tired of talking about it and everyone else I know calling me from there telling me how energizing it is. I’m sending family back home to insure the business in Central Africa continues as planned. Oh by the way… Do not fly Air France. Ever. This is the fifth time I’ve dealt with them and they never disappoint to disappoint. If you play ball and travel like we oversea-ers do and you’ve flown Air France, you know like I know, the customers is always a thorn in the side that if given a chance will piss me off til I strike (again) and throw my gourmet knowledge of cheese and wine in their faces. I love France. I hate Air France. Take the chance if you want so you can see for yourself. But like pops said, (another West African proverb. ready?) commot d biro bros: Ukpana okpoko buru, nti chiri ya. Translation: I gotta get my b.b. gun and take out these damn mockingbirds keep eating my tomatoes and terrorizing kids.

I’ll get back to you on the progress and the translation unless someone beats me to it.

So with that I say… I appreciate all the comments, concede a couple to be totally true and as for the rest… I respectfully disagree. I did love the one that talk about my fall as a HoopsHype blogger. I just cracked up. Seriously. Not sarcastically. I told you I have a morbid sense of humor. The ones that excommunicated me for “calling out” NBA players? Wow… I’m like still reeling. A player is a player. Because I play. I just don’t hold any distinction other than fame between NBA players and the guy at the Y telling me I ain’t ish and explaining to everyone in the gym how he should be playing overseas and I shouldn’t. But I suppose it makes sense.

Just read this for a sec… That some 5-foot-8 bonobo basketball analyst who’s never played basketball in his life can come on national TV and say LeBron James is overrated (actually happened) and people will actually give that colon chatter audience… But an actual player who’s basketball exploits has garnered him at least a minute amount of credibility can suggest the decision makers have no basis to unequivocally justify his choices unchallenged and be charged up like that? Pauley (Shirley) told me there’d be days like this. Paul, you told me not to be too honest and you were right but like I said… I just don’t care. As for one losing respect for me… Unfortunate. But I respect you for making them known.

(Sorry so serious… I’ll change it up. I just got back from winning the FIBA Asian Club Championship in Kuwait so you know that was just drained in humorous transpirings).

I’m an equal opportunity ripper. Sorry. I’m not Stephen Smith, but I will offer a non-bias opinion about a player’s basketball skills willfully as long as it doesn’t hurt his way of living. Because believe it or not, I want every brother of mine to get as much money as possible from the guys giving it. Overseas and NBA alike. But does that mean I’ll sit here and write online any different than I would talk to the very guys I mention? Nope.

Funny thing is, I really didn’t say what I really would say in person. But as long as Fox Sports News Radio will keep having me, you’ll eventually hear it. I’m sure that’ll end up being more than a mortal sin. All the guys I mention were intentionally big guys (save one… he was an inside joke. Sorry Joey… Wasn’t really directed at you. I’m sure it doesn’t matter but… Whatever).

I mean, did you guys not read the previous blogs? Did I not mention Reggie Evans was good enough to get me cut from Houston? And DJ (only DJ) translated what I said. Geez! This is getting stupid. Who cares? I’d love to apologize but I’d be lying so I’ll just address two more things and one I’ll pimply transition to the point of this entry. Anyone could use numbers to justify how good I am when compared to others or how bad I suck when used alone, but just because I say what I feel as a basketball fan and have a burning desire to experience a playoff court every time I watch the playoffs (same when I was a kid at my first NBA final series) doesn’t mean I’m bitter. Because if I was a billionaire president of the world tomorrow, I would still see a playoffs game and want to play in it.

However, thanks fan Dr. Phil for the cliche “get over it son” line. That was almost as funny as the hater comment (you might have as well called me a martian. It would have been as warranted and made about as much sense.) But the one comment I truly from the bottom of my heart agreed with and loved and I swear I took as a compliment was the two people commenting about “typical basketball player sense of entitlement” and my ego. See? Those were great. You just gotta love the individuality of people. It makes us all better. What do I deserve? No more or less than the man sitting on the street corner holding up the “will work for food sign.”

If you have ever intentionally hurt someone else (as I have and still do) I feel we are all deserving worse than what we for the most part get. I don’t deserve a damn thing. At least nothing good. That is obvious. But to simplify a basketball player (which often happens) as having a sense of entitlement for stating or believing egotistically what he’s worth is presumptuous and naive. I’ve got numerous friends overseas and NBA that always made statements about how good they were and how much they were going to get and yada yada yada. I was always the realistic one saying garbage like “Yeah, I know I’m good but I’m just happy to even be here.” I was the one staying humble and patiently absorbing all the nonsense people wanted me to accept and believe. While if you heard my boys, you’d have thought they were out of their minds (and at the time I’d have agreed).

Here’s what I’ve learned and I wish I learned it earlier. Humility’s only place on a basketball court is with refs and off it. Everyone of those friends of mine are successful. And, for the most part, got the exact deals that everyone said they were crazy for saying they were worth. (Did you get that? Worth. Not deserve). So when one comment sarcastically complimented me on my ego… Finally. It was the first time and about time. I have yet to see a hooper worth a damn that doesn’t have an ego. Two guys were close. Matt Carroll and Dirk Nowitzki. Matt is one of the kindest, most humble NBAer I know. Keep that belief about him when he pump fakes your teammate with that deadly jumper threat and comes baseline. Aww, here comes cool, kind, friendly, Billy Hoyle, shooter Matt coming in for a layup and boom! Yeah, he laid it up but he tried to dunk on you. Then gives you that look like, “Yep. Try it again. You’d better just let me shoot.” Or Dirk… He really got me. You get on the court and he’s just so unassuming. You push, he gives way. You bump, he falls. You give him a snide remark. He responds with a completely disarming statement, “Yeah, my feet are small for my size man, balance is an issue.” Then Mr. Hyde humble nice guy transforms into rip your nuts off, dot you in the eye Jekyll who just nailed a three when his team was up by 1 with 30 seconds left. Then he runs down the court pulling jersey laughing at you, tongue waggin’, asking you “What the (fudge) did you think this was?

I wish I had an ego when I was younger. That is believing I was better than everyone else not trying to make everyone believe it. Trying to get everyone to believe it is completely futile. I mean, look… Some clown actually said LeBron was overrated (again… really happened). So while I participated in the “I’ll make ‘em all see,” all my colleagues took the “I am” approach. I think it served them well. I started late. I went to Division 1 in Turkey my second job out of school and scored 39 in my first friendly game off the plane. I played in the Spanish League and averaged 14 when I was 24 years old. I got to start an NBA preseason game with the Rockets (don’t care what you say, it at least says something). I did a lot of things that sure in the big picture means nothing, but on the small scale (my own reality) should have acquired me a bigger ego, earlier. And I’m not just talking players here. Coaches, teachers, politicians (especially politicians. Otherwise how could they ever take themselves seriously)… All must have egos to be good at what they do. People will have enough criticism to keep them humble as long as he/she is listening. So why join the masses? To appease the public’s desire?

So to answer your question, if I ever thought I just wasn’t good enough for the NBA… Nope. But again. I appreciate your opinion. No matter how people try to down what I do or have done, my growing ego has done me a lot better than humility in basketball. You know like people insulting the South Korean league or the fact that I played there. Or I’m sure I’ll have the occasional quib about the competition in Kuwait. But having an ego while playing on the court is absolutely essential. I agree some of the places I’ve played are laughable, but when I played in Italy, Spain and Turkey my pockets were empty. Is it logical to continue at the level everyone respects if the only benefit is how it’s perceived? Think of how bad it would be if I approached playing in places like those small markets with humility and didn’t win or dominate the league… I’d have been done years ago. Laughed off the court. Is it hard to leave your ego on the court? Unfortunately it is. Especially when you are still talking about or somehow involved in basketball even though you’re not actually playing at the time.

Like on my way back from Kuwait, I really felt like such a prick. I caught myself tripping about how my team bought an economy class ticket returning to the States. Then when I reminded the GM of my contract, he quickly bought another on the same reference number. However he forgot to mention I had to actually pick up the paper ticket in Kuwait. Otherwise I was still on economy. I didn’t figure this out until I got to the airport. And even thought Emirates saw I had a business class ticket reserved, they “couldn’t” put me in business without the paper ticket which had been sitting in a Kuwaiti travel office for two days. Yeah! So now I was stuck to travel 17 hours straight to Houston from Dubai.

Quick…

Have you ever traveled to Dubai? Better question. Do you have any idea how hard it is to not feel like a sheik when taking a first or business class Emirate Airline vacation to Dubai? People, everyone must do it once. Those people make you feel like you actually deserve the treatment they offer you (for the price, you might have an argument). I mean their first class is actually an upgrade. Not like first class now on local flights, where you pay $200 extra for your peanuts to be warmed in a microwave and served on a glass plate. All the while, flight attendants and economy passengers alike look at you like a dumb decrepit camel for paying for that upgrade. Hardi har har.

Back…

But after traveling so often to these areas where every janitor to sheik feels like a prince, I actually started to believe, “I can’t travel in economy… It’s too cramped… I’m too tall… I play ball…” What the? Didn’t I travel economy four years at the University of Texas? And wasn’t I bigger then? But they do make those seats too narrow. I think they were designed by Kate Moss. It doesn’t help the fact the dude behind me doesn’t seem to know if the touch screen doesn’t work, the remote cleverly place inside the arm of your seat will let you watch any Arabic altered version of our favorite U.S. films. So your Woody Woodpecker impression at the back of my headrest can cease. Or that as I’m sleeping I get a cute little tickle under my chin… “He he…stop it. He he…stop it.” Oh I’m sorry I thought that was my daughter waking me up to make her pancakes. Didn’t know you could manage to fit your foot between the seats enough to rest your bigtoe in my beard, ma’am. Thanks. Can’t really complain to anyone about old Hagen and Daz, lady. Who would I complain to? The flight attendant, you say? The same lady I requested a napkin from and her response was, “Oh there are napkins in the bathroom you economy class animal.” Then she spit on my shoe and slapped me. OK, that last part was made up but she did tell me to get it from the bathroom. Which was no biggie, I guess. Other than the fact that Ray Lewis‘ twin sister just came out of there and left the door open to proud-fully astonish discourage me with her toiletrious achievements. Thanks, but I’ll just use my jacket.

So I guess I’ll add trying to leave my ego on the court with my offseason plans. This offseason the goal is to turn myself into a silverback. If you remember, I have been debating whether or not to completely eliminate meat from my diet. I haven’t eating beef, chicken or pork in over a year. But I have been exploring the whole evolution thing with Bantus probably being better off eating the meat they’ve evolved to eat. For example, goat, ram, sheep… Which I still think is better than the western domesticated animals. But I’ve gone ahead and decided never to eat any form of meat again. I don’t consider fish meat but even fish I will limit. So that’s my journey this summer as to see if I can find the fountain of youth and play this upcoming season like a contract year. But I promise thinking of me as an egotistical, whining hater might not be a beneficial assumption when meeting me in person. But if you’ll never know me and it serves you, by all means keep it up. Although I appreciate the ones advicing me, I actually know or have heard before what you’re telling me. Even so I ask for the comments to continue. You never know what I’ll learn. If you really really, really just think I’m a terrible person for saying something questionable, again, e-mail. It costs what one is willing to pay for it, it’s worth what one gets. I deserve nothing good. I give all well wishes and to the ones that gave me the ego subject, muchisimos gracias. If I am really the way you say I am, maybe this year it will translate to a man’s worth and by God’s grace I will not get what I deserve.

Shalom.

Every time I see a playoff game, it resurrects that feeling I swear I never get any other time. I sit here with my beautiful family trying to squeeze time between keeping my boy from maiming the rest of the kids at my daughter’s birthday party and putting together the trampoline we got her, to sneak a peek at the Boston-Atlanta series. And all I can do is bite my lip when I see a juvenile turnover at a crucial time by a guy who would be cut in a heartbeat from any team I’ve played for overseas. And I blurt out things like, “Geezus Christmas… What the hell are you doing?” in the middle of cutting a cake and singing. And I get the “look” from all the 9-5ers enjoying the non-athletic festivities.

But what can I say? Have you seen some of the basketball juggernauts playing right now? I mean with guys like Devean George, the abominable combination of James Augustine and Marcin Gortat, the dominant Rasho Nesterovic, Joey Graham, DJ Mbenga (kosilika te mon cher c’est un blague) and of course the utterly brilliant Reggie Evans (although I must say you are playing well, you’re still a rhino, or was it a triceratops?), how could I possibly make a case of being good enough to hang? I mean these guys are, dare I say, Jordan-esque.

But as it stands, I do still get that itch to get on a court and dismantle the athletically superb but basketball dumb with a culmination of the things I’ve learned playing everywhere except Afghanistan (but let them offer enough shiiiiii). So I get up now and take offers to play, just so I can do exactly that. And it’s not the money, although I do make more for a two-week tourney in Kuwait than I would in a month for a top Euro team. Money hasn’t been my driving force since 2003. My friend and I just started a business in Central Africa and it’s moving like a freight train. Everyone says, “Yeah you make money in Africa but is it stable?” Read this very carefully… The people saying, “Don’t fish in the pond” are the ones harvesting the fish. In short, I’m happy with what I make and more than comfortable but I just gotta play when the playoffs come around.

Man! I take an offer to some asininely non-basketball part of the world to get rid of that itch, then the level of play there is so plainly not what I see on ESPN, my presence there simply exacerbates the frustration of not playing on an NBA playoff team. It’s a vicious cycle. So why do I do it? Well, I like putting on a show… For myself. Wherever I am. But (and this is a big but) will I do it for pennies on the dollar of what I’m worth (easily half of an Asian team) in a country that looks at me as less than a man just because the country or league “looks” big-time? And for a non-championship team? Basically give you million dollar basketball for cheap? Survey says… Yes? “I’m sorry the correct answer was ‘hell to the naw… That’s hell to the naw’. Thanks for playing we do have some parting gifts for you.”

Quick…

This is not really a quick, just something I thought about while watching the Toronto-Orlando series. (Dwight, please stop it. You’re scaring the children). You know how on TV you always heard how competitive Michael Jordan is? I used to see that on TV and thought it was just a media facade. Until I met him and got to hang out with him. His level of competitiveness is scratching the surface of being uncanny (seriously, look that word up as to really comprehend what I mean). I mean, it like made me slightly uncomfortable if not scared. Then I remembered watching the game, Mo Evans is exactly the same. I had to jab him when I saw how mad he got when he missed a corner three wide open. He went 4-for-6 from beyond the arc for the night, but knowing him the two he missed will keep him up til 3 am playing dominoes until he beats poor Papa Evans bad enough to satisfy that frustration of missing them two 3’s. So I guess that’s the quick… Mo is the best domino player in the NBA. I don’t really know if that’s true, but he’s damn good. I think we won a NBAer tourney once… Anyway…

Back…

To put in plain words without telling you exactly what an individual makes… My contract this year in Spain paid me more than I would have made playing for Charlotte this year. No exaggeration. Fact. There were three guys that went through my spot and guess who was the lowest paid (by far)? Yep, mois. Now I defy you to go to the stats for yourself and see who played the best. Mind you, sans the “tag” (that’s hoops lingo for guys with the played-in-NBA for substantial time tag). I was given little to no respect, even less chance and fought my way to getting 20 minutes a game in a style unbecoming of my skills. On the contrary, the other two guys were simply given that time. To make matters worse, I am older and much more experienced than the other two guys (and there are plenty that would make the argument, simply better. I said it and my cologne is Versace. You know the routine).

I did all this and I swear to all that is Hoopery, I took a substantial pay cut from what I make in Asia. Simply because the season in Europe is longer so more stable. It’s obviously more desirable to make 500K-a million over 10 months than to make 300K-500K over 4 months. Give or take. I’m not stupid. 500K over 4 in Asia or 500K over 10 months in Europe is a no-brainer but it’s not always that plain. I took that pay cut to prove myself in Europe because they hadn’t seen me in five years. So I proved myself. Gabe can play. Duh. Like they didn’t know that.

So why hadn’t they seen me in five years? I had never gotten all my money playing in Europe. Let me repeat; Nunca cogio todo plata mia jugando en Europa CON-YO! Shall I repeat? Jamias na monaki mbongo ya ngai mobimba tangu nazalaki kobeta basquet na Europe. (I can do this all day). Conversely, my fine feathered friends, I am not owed one cent, not one kobo, ni un puto centavo, from any team in Asia (not even in Iran).

Sure, culture and belief systems are different wherever I go. But blatant lying as an attempt to keep $200 bucks here, $800 there, $50 over yonder is a trait that one would experience, not in Asia. Oops… Am I insinuating something? Naw, if you’re a moron. So what now? Yep, I go play. Puerto Rico (another place I’m not owed a penny), China (which I love), Kuwait, anywhere but I just can’t keep watching these playoff games, not be a part of them and satisfy my basketball yearning dunking on my Brazilian Ju-jitsu teacher at 24-hour fitness. For some reason it’s just not the same. Don’t ask me why. So I’m off somewhere that I probably wont have Internet in turn, incommunicado. Then I’ll come back home for two months, sign a deal somewhere in June and this basketball ride will start again. Only this time it will be a lot more detailed and (ha ha) fun! Cuz I’ll have nada to lose and I’ll still be rich… Bit… You get the point. Nwa agu adi ataa ahihia. And I am the son of a lion.

Shalom.

Without going into explicit detail, I’m on my way home from Tau and I’m so confused I’m not even sure whose decision it was. I read in the paper that Tau offered me an “offer not to be refused”. Really? Awesome! Can I have it now? Oh. It’s made of Dark Matter you say? Let me pull out my Dark energy pen and sign on the quasar. But of course, in typical fashion, it had to be portrayed in the media as if I was released and not wanted. Cause God forbid Gabe actually says “no” to a big-time team. Well, secret’s out. I was offered something I couldn’t accept so I said “ciao.” Anyway it was fun; my three-month tryout that is. I prefer to call it a tryout if you don’t mind. My teammates are phenomenal and I got experience on a big name team. I have little complaints. Good for the memory banks. I thought about playing somewhere else but honestly right now, these three months have been so draining, I just don’t know if I want to. I need to hit up Puerto Rico. That place is just a paid vacation. Never for money. Just no stress with all hoops!

Linton Johnson was here replacing James Singleton before I was and he only played something like six games in three months and went home. Then he signed with Phoenix and now he’s with Toronto. The stories I read about his stay here weren’t positive and I was wondering how smart it was for him to approach playing here the way they said he did… Well. Can anyone else hear that Louisiana accent in that laugh? OK, OK… I can laugh too. So a little ha ha at my expense again. No prob, I can take it. Shoot I can see why it’s funny. But remember I said it, when I laugh, it’s really going to be funny.

Sorry folks. It’s not that I have nothing to talk about (as if that were possible) I’m just damn tired and figured I’d drop a line on my last day here before I left. Kinda give the full on Bashitball on the go experience. How come I can’t just win the lottery? Or be a part of a new discovery in nano-technology with Bill Gates? It would be a lot easier and less stressful. Funny thing is though… I’ll get some asinine offer to play basketball in the coming season and I’ll do it again with every expectation of it being a grind to get through. And if it ends up I’m around good guys and nice people, it would be a welcome (unlikely) but welcome surprise. So I do it until I simply don’t want to. Or until I invent a nano-tech bug that can rebuild brain cells. Me first!

My last game was another adventure shrouded in mystery. 11 minutes, 4 points, 2 rebounds. I worked my way up from no respect to playing 20 minutes 5 out of 7 games. There was one stretch I was averaging near 10 ppg. Then all of a sudden, bop! One thing everyone knows though… This globetrotter can play. And if you don’t believe me, try me (at the 3 or the 4). As for Tau, they are on their way to try and win a Euroleague and ACB championship. They have a good chance to do it and I hope they win both. Like it or not, I had something to do with it. 30 games something. Even so… Talk is cheap. I’ve always preferred the look for yourself approach. Watcha say, Bird? “Boy, I’m uh sho ya!” Damn right.

It’s easy for people not to appreciate the non-spectacular no matter how much better it is. My freshman year at Texas I was in the Midnight Madness dunk contest. My first dunk I went in between the legs and dunked the hell out of it when going between the legs was still hard. I think about two students stood up and clapped. Kris Clack noticed my confundi look and told me, “you made it look to easy,” as he patted the young freshman to sit down. It’s happened all my career. I can’t make it look like anyone else’s but I can still do the job damn well. I played for a team overseas that literally gave fits about the contract I wanted. (Excuse the fact I won’t use names or numbers; just trust me and enjoy the point). The amount I wanted wasn’t at all unreasonable and I had proven myself by dominating the league in the past. Anyway I took what was a small fortune to most but a joke to major overseas hoopers, and proceeded to put on a show in shooting and showmanship every game to the delight of the underpaying team. 28 ppg, 10 rpg, 47 3P%. That same team proceeded to pay a “big name” player over three times what they payed me to average a whopping 16 ppg and 8rebs and no playoffs. They gave the guy my salary for the year… In advance.

Now look, it doesn’t bother me he got that money and I didn’t. It costs what you pay, it’s worth what you get. What bothers me is how quickly simple luxuries are ignored. It’s those instances I’ve gone thru that makes me jump out of my seat when I see the simplest fundamental move mastered. My teammates regularly gave me strange looks when I’d see something like Igor Rakocevic walk a guy down with two slow steps, one hard jab, come off a screen full speed, catch the pass, sense the defender cheating, rip the ball through to the left, drive by him, and rather than lay it up, stop after two dribbles for an eight-feet tear drop over the big guy who came to help… And miss. “Oh! Helluva move Rako!” And I get the two-headed look. Those plays are the impressive plays not only because not many can do it, not only because not many even want to do it but because the work it takes to get that shot is more of a talent than making the shot (he makes that shot more often than not, just so you know). You can see why my favorite basketball team to watch is the Spurs. Yes, I’m serious. Then Utah. Then N.O. Then English… Premiere League Soccer. I appreciate the things others ignore and sorry if I play that way. Want detail? No… Not now. I’m packing. Flying out mañana and I just don’t have the time for any stories. But ha ha ha, I will!

I initially just thought about writing a book but after this experience… Wow… I am definitely writing a book. The intricacies of every nook and cranny of this game never cease to befuddle and just tickle my sensories of amazement. Professionalism is not a given. Rather, it is a luxury. So if you are a hooper and blessed to play for a team of professionals be far more thankful for that than the money they give you. And don’t be an asshole when they are professionals. It’s like the people who are most professional are confused with being stupid. If you are looking at someone who is being nothing but professional and is totally in control like he/she is stupid… Who’s the stupid one? I get the same thing. I’ve had to deal with many teams that did things to me because they just felt I was a dumbass because I didn’t say anything. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. So I don’t have to say a word. How long do evil men feel they can treat people like dogs and not pay for it?

Quick…

That brings me to something else. To all my friends making tons of money overseas… I believe you are all making a ton. I believe you are all rich. But to the ones that said “I’ve gotten every penny,” from now on… I don’t believe you. No one gets all his money. My second agent told me if you get 90 percent of the money on the contract in Europe, consider it a successful year. Sorry for doubting you, Bill.

Back…

Don’t confuse me as some Saint. I too have been an asshole. (I know, no one ever believes it! But yes, I too Brute.) I am so good at it, it’s only a recollection away to re-enact. So every once in a while, I provide a willing audience to an encore performance. It’s like riding a bike. Onward… But I have seen, you can’t just put on that mask everywhere. I had a coach in an Asian country once. He used to yell at the players as if they understood a word of what he was saying (he was an American.) I initially thought it would be a breath of fresh air to be in a foreign country with a coach I can relate to. But as the season went on it became painfully obvious that I was more comfortable with the local Asian players than the American coach. He talked down to the players, yelled and made no attempt to explain the smallest basketball detail to the players in their language. Rather he was intent on forcing them to speak and understand his English cursing tirade even though the majority of the world speaks the local language (guess that gave away the place and coach… Whatever. Deal with it.)

I had no issues with explaining myself in as much of the language I could pick up and they appreciated it. Just because these people didn’t speak your language didn’t make them stupid. On the contrary they were very much in control and showed it when I went off after one loss (as I felt I was the man and I cold do that… Shiiiiii). As kind and professional as they were they made it clear, lack of reciprocation and civility would not be tolerated. A nice tasty fine made it easy to recognize I was dealing with a boss. However they never pulled my card if I never pulled theirs. That is not a given. I’ve been places where everything is perfect and the team still looks for a card to pull when you’ve dealt the deck. It’s why I love Asia. I was so used to fighting teams, when I came to Asia I couldn’t handle professional teams. It’s so freaking hilarious how the rest of the basketball world looks down on Asian basketball. I assure you, if the Asian season was longer, none of the best players in Europe would play anywhere else. And in the case of Korea, if they let the best players back in, no one, I mean no one would play anywhere but Korea. Listen, the highest paid Korean… Well, I’ll just put it this way, is much happier than the highest paid European player. Do not believe the hype! (I swear I will write a book one day.)

You should hear the question I got the most this year, “Why have you played in Asia so long?” (in a way saying I’m better than that.) Ha! Because I enjoy maintaining sanity while playing basketball. In the KBL, they didn’t make a big deal out of anything. Didn’t look for a reason to fine you. They didn’t kiss your ass either. They were professionals. They were bigger, smarter, stronger and richer than you and they knew it. For that reason, they saw no need to flex their muscles to someone who couldn’t challenge a freaking corporation! Samsung… Hyundai… LG… Should I go on? You got a tech, you paid the fine and moved on. I didn’t appreciate it my first year (21 T’s in 54 games… Beat that Rasheed. I think he actually might have). But by my second year I was well scripted and totally prepared to be a total pro. Too bad they changed all the rules for the foreigners that can now play there. Otherwise… Ang ya as sai oh and kam sah am ni da, bitches.

I think that’s the biggest reason everyone I’ve ever known to have played in Korea likens the level of that league’s professionalism to the NBA. Don’t buy it? Go to www.kbl.or.kr. That is just a very small example of what kind of league they have there. As for the comments, I have no prob hooking you up with any info I have. Just e-mail my homies at HoopsHype. They forward me all the mail. I still see the comments. Did you see the one an NBA player’s mom left me? That couldn’t really be her. You think? Wow. If it was, man I am a jerk, huh? Ma’am you are totally right and my apologies if I offended you. It was simply an unfortunate incident. Talk about ripping your heart out. To the rest of you, if you’re nervous, you should be. I will get my stage. I will show my buttocks and it’ll be a full moon. Test me on the court. I bet you won’t. Don’t let the rough taste fool you. Please excuse the lack of a real story in this blog, I got a plane to catch. But for some reason I just feel a good story in about two weeks. Maybe by then I’d have figured out how to cheat the Texas lottery.

Shalom.

For those Bible readers that say Revelation is the scariest book in the Bible, check Romans out. It is one of the books I read the most and that verse is the one I try to always remember. If you read on, you would read it goes on to say God’s wonders have been demonstrated in plain view since the beginning of time so men, we, are without excuse. I personally get so tired of that statement, “game recognizes game” because it’s so true and it doesn’t comfort me. That statement offers me no solace for the simple fact that it only serves as a catalyst to perturb me in an area I’d much rather ignore. The truth is “Game” does recognize game and “Game” does all it can to suppress, ignore or utterly decimate it.

Quick…

I love that word. Decimate. You know where it comes from? It’s Latin from “deci” meaning “ten” and “mate” meaning kill. If Caesar’s army, men or what have you would lose a battle, fight or all in all mess up, he would order something passed gangster. He’d order 10 men from his army bound and gagged in public view and, you guessed it, slaughtered. Just to get his point across to the rest that he wasn’t in business for tolerance of failure. All these little Latin barbs I know are thanks to Latin classes I had while growing up in Catholic school. Actually made the English portion of the SAT a turkey shoot.

Back…

It’s very difficult to play overseas and be exposed to so many things that you simply would never hear while confined in your little box at home in the States or anywhere else for that matter. Can you imagine the people and his/her revelation when they notice a world outside of the little box in his/her mind? I’ve gone through it and am going though it still. It wouldn’t be so difficult to play if I weren’t so damn “peculiar” as I’ve been referred to here. But as it is, I notice and analyze way too much.

On the way back from one of our Euroleague games where we smashed Aris in Thessaloniki, Igor Rakocevic handed me a Serbian (I don’t know if it was Serbian or Croatian or Bosnian or which one of the six former Yugoslavian states, so I beg you pardon if I’m wrong) newspaper that offered a very different point of view from a former Yugoslavian leader. His word were not bad mouthing America but rather a hesitant confession of what America forced him to do. What?! I read this and I don’t know what fascinated me more, the fact American powers really might have forced this man to do what he claims, or the fact we in America have never heard these extremely damning accusations! Not really that particular story I want to dwell on but rather one example.

Another is this one… Hillary/Obama. I swear, man. I mean, come on. How hard is it to take important caca seriously? It’s damn near impossible. One day reports are going out all over the newswire. “Obama is killing Hilary”, “He’s looking to sweep Ohio and Texas,” the media even suggesting Hilary might just drop out of the race. So much so Mrs. Clinton had to speak on it and say she wasn’t dropping out. And for my almost 20 years of being interested in elections, every single time the media has talked about someone dropping out of a political race… Stick a fork in him (her). Well, not only did Hilary not drop out, she won Texas and Ohio! WTF?!

Picture my boy calling me and in our casual convo he just mention he was just getting back from voting. As I was congratulating him on doing what he had never done before, he cut me off and said he never got a chance to. Why? (If it weren’t such a shame, I’d be laughing). They announced Hillary won to a multitude waiting in line to vote at Nimitz High School (a mostly Bantu area of Houston) with plenty of time to spare before polls closed. This is comical.

Or how about this? I’ve like found so much similarities between Africa and, well, everywhere it’s crazy. China, I learned, has many different ethnicities and languages just as every country in Africa. But I never expected it in Spain! I thought everyone in Spain was Spanish. I guess my first stint here I was too consumed with a pregnant wife and a wanting bank account to notice.

There are at least four ethnicities/languages/people whatever you want, other than Spanish in Spain. And these people are damn proud of that. There is Catalan (kinda of a Spanish-French melange), Gaello (ummm, Spanish-Portuguese), another I don’t know the name of but it is in Menorca, and the most interesting, the Basque. The city I play in is the capital of Basque country, Vitoria. But in Euskera, Vitoria is Gasteiz. And that is just one example. I take pride in being able to somewhat decipher different languages but I am telling you, I could not explain or decipher the incredible history or language of these people. To even begin would take up this blog and every other one from this point out. Euskera has absolutely no similarities to Spanish. None. No one knows exactly where it came from. Linguists cannot agree from where their language emerges. Some historians have even said they might be the survivors of Ancient Atlantis. Basques have been traced… Ready for this… Back to the days of Cromagnon! That is the days of cavemen, my friends. OK, I can’t be the only one tripping on this. But here’s the point. Nobody really recognizes their game. I read maybe one line about the Basque in History classes in the US growing up. And the French Government apparently doesn’t even recognize them as an ethnic group/people.

When I read that, it reminded me of Africa and how different ethnic groups are not only not recognized but simply razed as long as no one talks or knows about it. But as soon as it can no longer be hidden, then everyone acts as if they knew about the wrong doing and cared about the people the whole time. I for that reason I relate to the Basque and at the risk of getting too political, let me stop and say… The similarities between these ethnic groups’ problems in Europe as well as Africa are astounding. The lone thing that separates the two is no one cares about what takes place in Africa until someone puts it in the media or there is some type of resource that sprouts up in the particular area. In Europe, you have no choice. So when it happens, it shows how small yet covert the world really is.

Hoops…

Do I even need to relate how the cliche “game recognizes game” is true and yet complete basura in basketball? There have been so many guys I have seen dominate on the court and be tossed aside as if they were scrubs. I was on the summer league team with the Vancouver Grizzlies when they dismissed Stephen Jackson like he couldn’t play. Was I watching the same guy they were? You see how good he is now? He’s been the exact same player since high school. The same year Vancouver let him ride, he finished second or third in rookie of the year voting starting for New Jersey. Then they let him ride too. This phenomenon continued and climaxed with him winning a championship with San Antonio, killing in ATL and getting that contract he deserved.

OK, so I might be a bit biased because we are from the same area and that might have something to do with me ignoring the off-court antics. However, I’m sure we’d agree on the fact that he can play and if he were one of those highly touted No. 1 picks not only would “Game” ignore those antics of his, “Game” would do everything in its power to protect and emphasize the most minute positive attribute he has. They should change that statement to “Game recognizes game as long as someone else recognizes it.”

And even that wouldn’t be complete. Talking about this reminds me of one of my most hated rappers, let’s just call him “Hey-mon” Tones (he’s Jamaican). Moving on… Anyway, he used to complain all the time about how no one recognized our skills (Oh yeah… You didn’t know I rapped?) He was going to small clubs performing, radio stations, selling underground CDs and everyone in the Houston/PA/Galveston area knew. Shiiii his rap game was nice. We were friends and not only were we both working our tails off to get noticed, but gave honest praise for each other. Lo and behold, he got a small break preforming after small-time rappers. Then bigger… Master P, UGK, then Outakst. Until now…

He’s on stage and on tour with the likes of Jay-Z and Lil’ Wayne consistently. After all he’d been through, I was proud he got to that level. But one time in the summer, Jigga, Weezie, Pimp C and all the big-time rappers were gathered along with some of the other up-and-coming artists along with “Hey-mon” and myself. And after all the ass kissing he’d witnessed and he himself taken part in, after all the struggles we’d both been oppressed with, he – not Jay-Z, not Big Boi, not Weezie, none of the big-timers – felt it just to insult me in front of all the rappers. His exact word directed at me was, “garbage.” This from a guy who beso mi culo the whole time we were both struggling was now searching for belonging among his superiors at my expense. Loud mouth, presumptuous, payaso-acting, flamboyantly brown nosing “Hey-mon”.

I assure you all that loud talking got real quiet after I told him I’d snap his little neck. (Sure, I surrender that I’m not a perfect man but I am a big man and I carry a big stick). Strip everything we have away. A man plus riches, cars, women and power is still a man. In the same way a bitch plus all the same is still a bitch. Like late Pimp C says, “Yeah I said it, and if you got a problem with it you can smell my cologne.”

I honestly believe he is the only person alive I hold animosity toward. For the life of me I can’t think of one other person I simply don’t like. For no other reason besides I witnessed first hand his wickedness turning a blind eye to something he knows to be true. Game recognizes game, right?

This denial of the obvious can be seen in abundance in basketball and even easier in everyday life. I could literally tell amazing first hand stories of completely unnecessary, bold-faced denials of the truth. Guys who told me something I never asked for in my face and proceeded to deny my existence. But I won’t, because I simply don’t care. I just laugh when I see them on TV or on some other stage talking and people actually buying the manure they are selling. I’m over here with guys who have no business outside the NBA, but when you ask most of them why the don’t try to go back, they echo the same thing. Over here they get more money and less poo-poo. Most of them dreamed about being in the NBA and all were disappointed once they got there. Zoran Planinic, Igor Rakocevic, Pete Mickeal and especially James Singleton. Geez! None of them have any business outside the stage of the best basketball players in the world. And everyone on our team could play there at the least. But hiding the hoops obvious in Europe is a bit more difficult. (Don’t get it twisted, it happens and is very possible, just not as easy). So sure I agree with the fact “Game recognizes game” only if it is conceded the fact that “Game” is a vindicative, wicked asshole. Otherwise, I hold that statement to be about as true as me having ever been a rapper.

Shalom.

For those keeping track… We lost to Joventut in the Spanish Cup. No. That doesn’t mean we’re done. It was an in-season tourney of the top eight teams. The ACB championship is yet to come. Rudy Fernandez seemed to have a hard time missing as his hands were dipped in petrol – which I feel should be illegal. But as it is legal, he had 32. Next, they had a young fella, Ricky Rubio. He joined in the act. OK, not really but him doing his thing wasn’t the real issue more so is the fact he’s like 12 years old. The kid can go. I swear I’m going to find one of his behind-the-back dribble moves and personally put it on Youtube. A reporter asked me if I agreed with some other player that he was protected. Hell, if I know I just got here. But I can tell you this… He doesn’t need it. Look him up, the little termite can go.

My new name for the big guys here is “Los Toros.” Why? Because when that shot goes up, put on your helmets. Block out of blood. I have not yet figured out how to rebound like I want. The main reason is because over the back, push in the back, bite in the back and the oh so famous removal of spleen and replacing with nuclear weapon, all are not fouls here. The only way to block out here is to face block hence eliminating your opportunity to get the rebound so wings (and occasional seven-footers) have the best chance of getting rebounds. As seen, Pete Mickeal is our leading rebounder and get this, second leading defensive rebounder in the ACB. He is a 6-foot-5 wing. After all my work to become a 3, I ponder on what I will achieve when I play there again. Especially in Europe. So to date I am doing well with the time I get at the 4. Trust me, when I play more, it’s brains and not brawn I will use to achieve what I wish.

My damn slingbox just decided to stop working. Funny thing is I don’t watch much TV when it’s readily available. Now that it’s not, I go nuts to find something to watch. Since my kids have garnered all cable time with LazyTown and the Disney Channel, I am stuck watching Spanish TV in the kitchen where cable is not. And yes, even though I am fluent, I don’t particularly like watch the Spanish rendition of the Simpson’s. Homer just isn’t as funny unless you hear Dan Castellaneta’s voice. So I’m stuck watching CNN or any other international news in English.

While watching the news, I saw something amazing, funny and angering. Did you hear about Bush’s homeboy making that statement about Nigerians? Roger Adams is the name. And he is an Attorney for the Just-us (Justice) Department. This guy was in charge of granting pardons! Now that won’t amaze you until you are made aware of what he said. Recently a drug convict applying for a pardon was so eloquently described as “about as honest as a Nigerian.” I’ll give you a moment to laugh, ponder, soak it in, whatever… Done? OK. This guy is one of our leaders. There are 180 million approximately in Nigeria. Did he think for one second that maybe that would be a slightly insulting thing to say to at the very least 90 million of those people? I started to get mad then I just started to laugh. And I thought how often have I seen the same thing in the world as you see in basketball? How many times have I been on a team that the leader was an absolute clown? I mean you look at some of the League teams… It’s bloody comical. Some of these teams are led by guys who can’t shoot a bank shot then it’s like some big mystery why the castle falls.

Get the hell outta here. Seriously? Do you really wonder why your team sucks or is that just for the fans to think you care? Man, seriously. It’s the same thing everywhere. Leadership in so many avenues is incredibly out of touch. How can you be a leader and not relate to the people you’re leading? I mean, I have stereotypes of people too. Let’s do an easy, funny, relatively non-offensive one. “White men can’t jump.” (Obviously not true, but let’s move on). If I thought that, how incredibly daft, I mean completely cerebello absentia would I have to be to be a man of high leadership stature and say that on a national stage about 100 million people?

These people are by all accounts insane. Think about it, literally insane! How seriously can you take yourself? So now I’m all into the election man. I’ve only voted once but I’m plastered to this election. I’m damn voting! And doing everything in my power to get everyone around me to vote. This is the first election I’ve seen where the possible candidates seem human and not body doubles of the Manchurian Candidate. John McCain. That dude is hilarious. He knows his own party doesn’t like him and he sticks to his guns and laughs at himself. I don’t know much of his background, but there’s gotta be a reason for that. Maybe he wasn’t always rich. Ooops, he’s Republican. My bad.

Truth is, I don’t know if I’m Republican or Democrat. I believe like a democrat, but I am very conservative in certain areas. Maybe I’m a Hypocrat. Get it? Hypo-crat and not “crit”. Ha ha… No? Buh-dump-bump next… Obama. Now that man has no choice but to be real. Look how he grew up and tell me he aint got 40 different personalities in him. Makes good for someone leading and putting themselves in your shoes. Anyway I’m on this coming election like red noses on politicians and squirting flowers on captains… Wait for it. Lucky for us, we have very good leadership so this castle ain’t going nowhere.

You can’t help but have the utmost respect for entities that are governed by steadfast leadership. I have the pleasure of experiencing it now and I had the pleasure to experience that with the Pistons. They were very unimpressive upon first glance, but as practice went on they were leviathans from head to base. No one had an ego. You know how the rookie free agent is supposed to be the first one in the gym and last to leave? Couldn’t do it, man. I tried the first few days but after a while when you see an 80-year-old Cliff Robinson in the gym before you and you came an hour early, man just let it ride. I’d walk in there. Rick Carlisle? On the court rebounding for whoever was shooting or on the treadmill. Ben Wallace? Doing some type of work out.

Quick…

The first day I walked into practice, I came an hour early. Ben Wallace was there finishing what I didn’t see was a photoshoot. Therefore I didn’t know it was him. I mean I didn’t even bother looking at his face because he was so short I dismissed him as another rookie like myself. I swear. When he walked by me and greeted all the front office personnel as if he knew them I couldn’t believe this was the man that was one of four people ever to lead the NBA in rebounding and blocked shots for a season. No way was he even 6-foot 8. But one attribute that stood out like Dwyane Wade on the Heat was his arms. Not the size, the length. His wingspan dwarfed mine and mine is 7-foot-1. The guy was built and as athletic as what we call “Odumadaka.” It’s a compliment.

Back…

Chauncey Billups? Already dressed and stretching. Rip? On the free throw line. And we won’t even get into last to leave. It was like a competition to see who could leave last. Truth is they were all good leaders, from Corliss to Chucky. Because they all had been through “it” and could relate to the superstars and the scrubs. I’d play against NBA stars and they would usually stop playing hard against you as a facade to hide the fact you were kicking his ass. The guys you love are the guys who respect you enough to fry you no matter who you are not.

For example… I went at Ben from the first day in practice. Not out of disrespect, I wanted a paycheck. I figured he was just too small to guard me. (Yes, I was 20 lbs heavier than him back then and damn near taller.) On one move in the post I spun baseline with my signature tribute to The Dream (he actually showed me that move) and laid it up. From that point on my confidence was through the roof. I was physically attacking him the whole practice and strangely enough he went right back at me. I wasn’t used to superstars doing that. Normally it would be, “Quit foulin’!” or “Uh Doc… Man I think I pulled something’” or just the traditional shit talking to hopefully quell the young exuberant barrage. But nope. He got pissed and if I beat him (barely) he personally would stop play and say, “I got ‘em.” What the hell was this? The best center in the league not going Hollywood? Here’s why… He was better than whoever he went against and he knew it. The next time I got it in the post I wanted it bad. This time I was going to hit him with the spin, but I had all plans to dunk it. Boom. Spun. He wasn’t close. I beat him bad. Now everything went slow-mo. I’m about to dunk the hell outta this… Bap! He blocked it from behind like he was slapping a tether ball. Arm extended sideways not extended up (just to give you an idea how athletic he is). Then he chased it down, outletted to Chauncey and the rest to the camp was kind of a blur.

Anyway trust me, fellow hoopers know, when a guy of Ben Wallace status really goes at you it is a compliment and he’s telling you he thinks you are good enough for him to go hard against you. They all reflected their leader, Joe Dumars, who himself is and was when he played a monster. That year they won 50-plus games and the next year they won the championship. I wonder why. No ego, man. Joe Dumars sat with me forever in the training room talking about non-basketball stuff and what a coincidence it was my high school coach was with him at McNeese State. What I found coolest was his nephew and I got to be cool and he didn’t do the Hollywood thing. “Why would he?” you say. If you haven’t seen yet, you might see that the acquaintances and/or family of the powerful are usually much cockier than the receiver of their organ pleaser. (I know a lot of ya’ll say you don’t get what the hell I’m talking about at times. It’s OK. I’m the same way. See? I know for sure that didn’t make sense). Keep emailin and I’ll keep responding. Say cheese. (There I go again).

Next time you want to get mad and insult any leaders in Basketball or in everyday life, just remember: They are baboons. Ha! For real. Insane chimps leading people. They have most likely never been in your shoes and if so, power has jaded their way of thinking to a point your concerns are literally completely foreign to their comprehension. Can you imagine telling Condi Rice, “Yo Condi, holla at ya boy and see if he can’t get some deez n***a chasers out ch’ere.” She would look at you and say, “Como?” I mean, really think of your most respected politician and put him/her in the most foreign place in the U.S. for him/her you could think of and picture he/she trying to comprehend the one iota of an everyday issue of just one of those people. It would be like a man explaining his problematic day at work… Well… To a chimp. It’s hilarious!

So I’m not mad at Mr. Adams. I wanted to be but that would be like regressing. And after all this I’ve been through, a re-formed grudge would be kind of an adolescent thing to cause a backslide. It’s cool because letting grudges go has been the lone thing that makes it easier to be positive. So Mr. Adams I say… F… Just joking. Good luck with that way of thinking. If he’s lucky, maybe God will make him do this journey of life over again as a Nigerian. No grudges.  (By the way, I should have known that earlier comment was from someone who once lived in 9ja and not from a Nigerian… That Pijin jare was terrible).

I’m too busy hooping. Nna maaaan, the only grudge I got is on this court. A grudge has always been a brick I carry around the neck. And, with me, I’ve seen it just increases in girth the longer I carry it. I’ve noticed when I want it off my chest, it’s easier to lean forward and let it drop rather than throw it and hang myself.

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 b