An Idiot's Manifesto

Post #39 Topic: Woe is Stephon

Dear NEW YORK MOTHA-FU$KIN CITY

Here is my track record. I was a rookie with the Timberwolves. Many an analyst predicted great things for me and my cohort, a fresh face out of high school with a lot of raw talent and an incredibly high talent ceiling, Kevin Garnett. Although the chemistry was immediately there, for some reason we just couldn’t crack our way into the playoffs. So I got traded. My team for some reason though that Terrell Brandon would be a better solution, perhaps because he was less interested in shooting and more interested in finding KG down low.

Strangely enough my team was right. That next year the T-Wolves, behind a Brandon to Garnett 1-2 punch reached the playoffs for the 1^st time in the team’s young history, unfortunately I wasn’t there to witness it. But things weren’t all that bad. I was traded to a young New Jersey Nets team that had a lot of promise. The Nets hadn’t been relevant in years, perhaps since Kenny Anderson and Derrick Coleman were patrolling the sidelines, maybe even longer… back to the time of Drazen Petrovic.

But things took a strangely sour turn in New Jersey. Almost as quickly as I arrived I began to hear rumblings that the fans, the coach, and management wanted me out. This was all at a point in time when the Nets had no fans. Their lack of relevance over the past decade had divided their fan base amongst the 76’ers, and the Knicks; we were left with piped in applause and Chris Gatling.

On top of that, I couldn’t stand the cold weather. Yes cold weather is the reason that I decided to leave New Jersey for greener (or at least drier and warmer) pastures. The land of the Suns is where I headed. The Nets had the unfortunate fortune of getting stuck with Jason Kidd, one of the most overrated PG’s of our time. Meanwhile I was called on to lead another group of emerging stars from the America West Arena out in Phoenix. We made the playoffs that year, all thanks to me and my 25 shots per game, and consistently declining assist to turnover ration.

Ironically, the Nets got really lucky with Jason Kidd as their point guard. I mean never mind that he was co-rookie of the year during a season in which Grant Hill’s emergence didn’t even garner individualized ROY attention; J. Kidd was a fluke. But somehow the Nets squeezed it out and made the NBA Finals… TWICE IN A ROW. But they soon realized how much they missed my presence, getting swept in back to back seasons. Oh boy do I bet they wish they never traded me... I could have guarded Shaq.

The next couple years in Phoenix were marred by injuries and bad attitude… who listens to a coach named Cotton Fitzsimmons??? Not this Brooklyn bad boy. I play my own style. I like to control the court, drive to the basket, take 3’s when I’m not open. I’m a street player, a NYC legend… no confederate slave driver is going to tell me when to give up the rock.

Fact is that I didn’t fit into Phoenix’s system. It had nothing to do with me being a bad teammate or a “locker-room cancer”. Me and Phoenix just weren’t a match. But between you and me… I played poorly on purpose knowing that a return to the arena (MSG), that made me love basketball was imminent. The Knicks really wanted me too. So much so that they were willing to give up one of the best big men in the league. Nevermind that Kurt Thomas at one point QUIT the Miami Heat to become an ASSISTANT COACH… he makes a mean paella for which no NBA patron can assign an adequate value. Boy do I love me some Paella.

And who is this Steve Nash guy? He doesn’t even care about himself. What an idiot, because of him his teammates look better than he does. What a ridiklis way to play hoop.

So it was destiny… The Knicks would be the team that let me create my legacy, leave my mark, establish MY dynasty. Too bad that moron Dolan up there in the luxury suite didn’t listen to me. Hiring Larry Brown as my head coach. What kind of moron preaches defense first? Everyone knows that you win games by putting points up on the board… Defense is for high schoolers and women! Took Dolan a little while to get on my page, firing Larry Brown, buying out his contract for over 40 million dollars… Finally Isiah got the point: Its Starbury’s way or the highway.

Under Herb Williams as interim head coach I went 3-1. That’s right, a .750% winning percentage. That’s better than the 72 win bulls (by my own fuzzy math), the 18-0 Patriots (football has less games so my 3-1 is more impressive), and Ali in his prime. Stupid Isiah had to get rid of Herb Williams and put himself in as coach. How absurd? (Shit all that Isiah is good for is helping me get laid in the back seat of my Escalade by some inebriated broad I met on the corner of god knows where and 8^th ave). At this point I’m thinking, “Starbury ain’t deserve this”. But I played it out. I played 1.5 seasons under this buffoon. I tried his system (for a quarter), I looked to pass, I came off the bench… I did everything I was supposed to. But Starbury don’t take no crap. So I didn’t come to a game. Instead I drove around with my cousin Sebastian Telfair shooting trash cans with 9 mm’s and smoking rock out of nanna’s favorite flower vase. But I got bored, and decided to return to the court… For a few games.

Stephon care about one thing and one thing alone: Stephon. So when I tweaked my ankle I decided it’d be best if I sat out the rest of the season, you know, get myself ready for the next year, get my beauty rest, maybe a couple new tattoos. Now the only problem is that I don’t know where I’m going to play (Hi Latrell Sprewell nobody wants me on their team syndrome).

Turns out that when I stop playing, the Knicks became a new team. Things that never happened when I was on the court started happening. The Knicks showed some good energy. Eddy Curry and Z-Bo started playing defense and looking dominant in the post as was expected of them. Nate Robinson learned to control the ball when relieving Jamal Crawford, who’s demonstrated that he is a natural PG who can hit pressure shots but also draw the double team leaving the big men open down low. Q-Rich is playing stifling D and doesn’t look hesitant to put up the big shots. Jared Jeffries and Malik Rose are playing solid back-up minutes, bringing crazy defense towards the end of tight games. Balkman is lookin like the next Dennis Rodman minus the craziness; when given minutes he’s all over the court. David Lee looks more solid every game… thank god we traded Channing instead of him. The Garden fans are actually showing up to some of the games and the boos have turned to cheers. FUCK, we even won 5 out of 8 games, losing 2 close ones along the way to two really really good teams. This was the team Starbury needed to win. WHERE THE HELL THEY WAS?????

A reporter asked me the other day why the Knicks were playing so goodish without me. I told him it was an easy question to axsk. Stephon is the court general. The Knicks are my army. An army don’t go to no war without its general. When General Motors lead the U.S. into WW II you think his troops would have been ok without him? Heck no! Instead they went and fought a couple battles real hard and stuff and showed him how badly they wanted him back. It’s the same for the Knicks. The Knicks want… nevermind they need me back on the court. I am the final piece to the puzzle for the Knicks. And if I decide to play again this season, ain’t nothing getting in the way of me taking my team to the championship. The Knicks need me. Isiah needs me. Them poor kids who wear my shoes needs me. New York needs me. The NBA needs me. I am the Freshman out of Georgia Tech who can change the way basketball is played. I am Starbury.

Sincerely,

Stephon Marbury.

P.S. please take me back. Pretty Pretty please. Everywhere I’ve played I’ve been a loser on a losing team. Everytime I leave a team that team starts winning. I’m almost out of opportunities. I’ll do anything. I WILL PASS I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL ACTUALLY PASS. I won’t whine. I’ll be morally responsible. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.

Other Notes

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You know what really makes a party? Fluffy whip. But not when you put it on stuff.