Setting: Pat Riley’s office, the day after the Shaq/Shawn Marion trade
Pat Riley: Jason, come here.
Jason Williams: Yes, sir. Sure thing, sir.
Williams enters the room and sits down, folding his hands in his lap.
What is it Mr. Riley?
PR: I doubt you’ve heard it yet, but we just traded Shaquille for Shawn Marion.
JW: Is that so?
Williams twitches.
PR: You bet. Shaq just flew down to Phoenix, and if he passes his physical, we’re getting Shawn Marion and Marcus Banks.
JW: continues twitching in a slightly more exaggerated manner
Wow. That’s off the hook, b! …. I mean, that’s great news, sir.
Williams begins jerking his head from right to left vigorously.
PR: Now Jason, we know you used to be a flashy guy, but we don’t want that coming back do we? You’ve been so steady for us. Just because Shawn is used to running and gunning, doesn’t mean that we’re changing our strategy.
JW: visibly bothered, Williams begins shaking.
No…not at all…must be mediocre.
PR: Are you sure you understand we need you to be the same guy you’ve been for us? Nothing you’d see on that And-1 stuff, or whatever it’s called.
JW: freaking out, rolling on ground.
What….ever….you…..UHHHH.
Williams stands up, head cocked, and lips pursed.
What up, Riles?
PR: Oh, no.
JW: You can’t hold me down, homie. You can’t step to Whit Eboy. Don’t front. I’ve got handles for days and dimes for years. Holla if you hear me.
PR: I thought this was cured.
JW: Ain’t nothing cured, son. I’m for real. I’m SO for real. I’ll be BALLIN now, P. Straight ballin’. This is the original. None better. White Chocolate, tall cheddar.
PR: Get Hubie Brown on the phone.
JW: Old man can’t touch me! You must be joking, Riles. You can’t contain this.
Williams begins pounding chest.
Elbow passes, holmes. EL-BOW PASS-ES.
PR: GET HUBIE BROWN ON THE PHONE!!!
Pat Riley: Jason, come here.
Jason Williams: Yes, sir. Sure thing, sir.
Williams enters the room and sits down, folding his hands in his lap.
What is it Mr. Riley?
PR: I doubt you’ve heard it yet, but we just traded Shaquille for Shawn Marion.
JW: Is that so?
Williams twitches.
PR: You bet. Shaq just flew down to Phoenix, and if he passes his physical, we’re getting Shawn Marion and Marcus Banks.
JW: continues twitching in a slightly more exaggerated manner
Wow. That’s off the hook, b! …. I mean, that’s great news, sir.
Williams begins jerking his head from right to left vigorously.
PR: Now Jason, we know you used to be a flashy guy, but we don’t want that coming back do we? You’ve been so steady for us. Just because Shawn is used to running and gunning, doesn’t mean that we’re changing our strategy.
JW: visibly bothered, Williams begins shaking.
No…not at all…must be mediocre.
PR: Are you sure you understand we need you to be the same guy you’ve been for us? Nothing you’d see on that And-1 stuff, or whatever it’s called.
JW: freaking out, rolling on ground.
What….ever….you…..UHHHH.
Williams stands up, head cocked, and lips pursed.
What up, Riles?
PR: Oh, no.
JW: You can’t hold me down, homie. You can’t step to Whit Eboy. Don’t front. I’ve got handles for days and dimes for years. Holla if you hear me.
PR: I thought this was cured.
JW: Ain’t nothing cured, son. I’m for real. I’m SO for real. I’ll be BALLIN now, P. Straight ballin’. This is the original. None better. White Chocolate, tall cheddar.
PR: Get Hubie Brown on the phone.
JW: Old man can’t touch me! You must be joking, Riles. You can’t contain this.
Williams begins pounding chest.
Elbow passes, holmes. EL-BOW PASS-ES.
PR: GET HUBIE BROWN ON THE PHONE!!!
