Thursday, August 27, 2009

A journey deep into the mind of Chris Wallace

Chris Wallace:  Boy, oh boy, do I love being an executive in the NBA.  But I'll tell ya, sometimes its a little bit tough, what with the entire sports media constantly calling my moves idiotic and with that nasty Gregg Popovic suggesting that a trade board be created to decline my mindless and power-altering trades.

Itellya, a guy can feel pretty unappreciated.  You think they consider that I drafted Paul Pierce?  Chauncey Billups?  Joe Johnson?  If they had only kept that core together Boston would have been just fine.  And can I just remindya it was Pitino's idea to trade Billups, not mine.  That guy sure can be pushy.

Anyway, I don't mind saying I've had a pretty good offseason up here in Memphis.  Why, I turned Quentin Richardson into Zach Randolph, filled a need at power forward, and I have one of the better young backcourts in the NBA.  Heck, just the other day, a blog noted that our team has a shot at forty wins.  Forty!  That ain't bad when I think about where we were just a year ago.

Yep, I'm feeling pretty good about myself and our team.  I'lltellya, though, I can't help thinking that our team just needs one more more thing to take us to the playoffs.

Bad Chris Wallace:  YO CHRIS!  Wheda fuck you at?  This team ain't nothing but a bunch of pussies and my boy Mayo.  You need a playa, playa!

Chris:  Oh, hello, Mr. Wallace.  I know you're not really there, and now I'm going to just relax and go back to the business at hand.

Bad Chris:  OH I BE HERE.

Chris:  No, you're not.

Bad Chris:  I BE.

Chris:  No, you're not.

Bad Chris:  I BE THAT, BABY.

Chris:  Godamnit they said this would work.  Alright listen, what will  it take to make you leave me alone?

Bad Chris:  I want my boy on this team.  I want him now.

Chris:  Are you referring to the puff daddy?

Bad Chris:  Man, fuck that dude.  I'm talking about my boy Iverson.

Chris:  But Mr. Wallace, that makes no sense.  I would just be stifling the young backcourt I've worked so hard to put together.  Also, I've heard that his practice habits are less than ideal.

Bad Chris:  You gon sign him.

Chris:  Sir, I politely decline.  I'm still hearing about the Gasol trade you forced.

Bad Chris:  HAHA!  Man you see the look on that mothafuckin frenchman's face when we told him we were sending him to LA!  OH SHIT that was good.

Chris:  But Mr. Wallace, he's doing very well.  He won a championship.  I'm the laughing stock of the league.

Bad Chris:  Whatever, he's a fuckin bitch, and now he's where all the other bitches belong, L. fuckin A.

Chris:  Listen, I'm not signing Iverson.

Bad Chris:  YOU BE.

Chris:  I'm not.

Bad Chris:  FUCK. YOU.  Then I'm stayin.

Chris:  Damnit....well...I mean, I suppose he is one of the greatest scorers in history.


Chris:  Well, at least this'll look good in the press.

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