Tag Archives: pheonix suns

Kobe Bryant’s Diary: Crouching Trainer, Hidden Harden

After 16 years in the league, Kobe Bryant has decided to keep a diary to document “the year he caught Jordan”.  While Kobe refuses to remove the diary from a pedestal in his trophy room, he has allowed Writing Bareback the exclusive rights to post these excerpts.

November 15th – Practice Day

Ask any real basketball fan who the best player of all time is, and you’ll only get one of two answers: Michael Jeffrey Jordan or Kobe Bean Bryant. The tie that binds us is Phil “Zen Master” Jackson. Michael won all six of his rings with Phil. I won all five of my rings with Phil. Needless to say, It’s going to be weird catching number 23 this year under the eye of Mike D’Antoni, but if anyone is capable of pulling this off, it’s me.

Still, you can’t help but overhear the rumors. You hear people saying that you’re too old and too slow. You put up with pranks like the Depends waiting for you in the visitor’s locker room (no one from Utah will own that prank. I’m 90% sure that it’s Dwight’s effort at motivating the team. He’s such a child). You can’t get caught up in all that, though. You can only rep out 1,000 elbow jumpers a day in preparation for the next game. We’ve got Phoenix tomorrow night, and I’d like to give my new coach the gift of victory.

-Mamba out

November 16th – vs Phoenix

When it comes to Phoenix, the first thing you think is how frustrating it is that we put such a low value on phonetic spelling. The second thing you think of is their team of native American witch doctors that they call a training staff. Broken veterans who have the historical durability of wet balsa wood go to Phoenix and suddenly they’re AC Green (I see you, Grant Hill). Some people think my obsession with Aaron Nelson and his band of voodoo masters is unneccessary. But unless I learn Aaron’s ways, I might actually have to keep my word to retire in a couple of years instead of playing the two more decades that Arizona magic could grant me.  Today, I got to the arena an hour earlier than usual so I could try to intercept old teammate Shanon Brown for some background tips. I texted him when I got impatient.

Me: LET SHANNON DUNK! lol -Mamba
SB: MAMBA! you cray
Me: u n staples?
SB: fo sho. n LR doing #CSRRacing. you play?
Me: wtf? son, plz
SB: ur loss mamba. 1174 2nite?
Me: u didn’t CU46 any1?
SB: nah. i keep LA free for the Mamba
Me: def. can u ?^ Aaron Nelson 4 me
Me: Shannon?
Me: 4Q – Mamba

You hate when an old “teammate” turns on you so quickly. Apparently Nelson includes amnesiac hypnosis as part of his rehab techniques. I went ahead and dropped a casual 31 points and picked up the big W for Coach D. Before getting into my cool-down routine, I check out CSR Racing on my iPhone. Shannon was right. It had been my loss.

-Mamba out

November 18 – vs Houston

Professional athletics has long been a thrilling industry for facial hair, and the NBA is certainly no exception. James Harden is a young player who has done a good job of building his brand and bank account with a bearded offensive. There’s certainly nothing wrong with that. I know a thing or two about building a brand, but my only technique to building my brand has been to consistently put in the grueling man hours needed to be the best basketball player that ever walked the earth. I make a possible exception for Jesus Christ because even though I’m pretty sure that Jewish men from 2,000 years ago don’t have the physicality for an 82-game season, it’s not clear how Son-of-God powers translate at the NBA level. The one thing I do know is that if Jesus Christ was a great basketball player, I would probably be more concerned about an acute connection to the Holy Spirit than his beard.

Anyway, I messed around and got a triple-double, beating Harden in every single statistic for the night.  It was important for me to remind him who the best shooting guard in the game is, now and forever. The game wasn’t enough though. The people who think you’re only playing the other guy on the court don’t best-think in best-terms. I had a message delivered to him that I handwrote on the inside of a folded out Gillette box.

“I am a 5-time champion with 2 NBA Finals MVPs 14 All-Star appearances. No one with a beard like yours has ever accomplished what I have.”

He’ll receive my cover issue of Best Shave to drive the point home before our next matchup on December 4th. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were babyfaced by the playoffs.

-Mamba out

Kobe Bryant’s Diary: Who is Steve Nash?

In his 17th year in the league, Kobe Bryant has decided to keep a diary to document “the year he caught Jordan”.  While Kobe refuses to remove the diary from a pedestal in his trophy room, he has allowed Writing Bareback the exclusive rights to post these excerpts.

November 2nd – vs Clippers

I usually wouldn’t use a picture of myself that is so unflattering, but I wanted my first impression of this date to be realistic. The reality is that there was nothing about November 2nd worth remembering except me.  I scored 40.  My starting four “teammates” combined for 39. They played in such a non-best fashion tonight that I literally played the whole second quarter with the belief that it was 04-05.  Pau told me after the game that it really bothered him when I gave him a “stare like death” and yelled, “Dammit, Luke! Play more like your dad!” Pau’s trying to be helpful, that’s why I didn’t say anything to him about his effort when he said, “I no like seeing you like that. Do not go to there again.”  I should have told him there’s a reason I made Mitch and Jerry get rid of Stanislav  Medvedenko. It wasn’t for his stupid accent.

You can’t linger on losses. You can only take the massive amount of pain and anguish and use your grueling post-game routine to compress it down to a diamond of hate and motivation.  So that’s what I did. And I did it on one leg.  Rehab tomorrow.

PS. I hate Blake Griffin.

-Mamba out.

November 3rd – Rehab Day

You have to respect Steve Nash.  It’s the first time in my entire career that someone’s beat me to the training room.  I’m normally not thrilled to hang out with “teammates” at 4:09AM, but Steve’s nice company.  After giving me a the customary head nod of recognition that the GOAT warrants, he pretty much stays to himself.  He picked up a lot of mystical rehabilitation methods from the Pheonix Suns training staff.  It was the first thing I asked him about when we signed him, but all he said to me was, “Sorry, Kobe. Magician’s code.” You don’t find that kind of selfishness enough in the NBA.  Very refreshing.  Still, I try to steal some methods while I’m on the bike.  From what I can tell, Steve attacks his rehab from a place of complete mental and sensory stimulation so involved that his body actually repairs itself from the soul outwards.  While posturing in a modified form of Ashtanga yoga, he’s reading Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov (a personal favorite), and listening to some Irish band called Solar Taxi on his iPod. But he doesn’t stop there, when he’s finished, he takes roughly a dozen different scrubs and lotions into the shower with him. He might be the most impressive teammate (no quotes needed) I’ve ever had. But then again there might only be an idea of a Steve Nash. Some kind of abstraction. Either way, I respect him.

-Mamba out.