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 piece...one 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.
Bad Chris: HAHA! YEAH BOY! SEE YOU SOON!
Chris: Well, at least this'll look good in the press.
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