Tag Archives: steve nash

Kobe Bryan’ts Diary: What’s In A Name?

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 23 – vs Memphis

This was a fun day until we blew a second straight game, this one to the Memphis Grizzlies. I know it’s not my fault. I scored 30 and was easily the best player on the floor. I didn’t want to talk about a losses over my weekend holiday, so I was really glad that I’d given the press something to have fun with by glossing the nickname “Gatsby” on Steve Nash.

My father was a good basketball player. But there’s a reason you never see the word “good” in front of the word “legacy,” and if you do, try to remember that you can’t have an oxymoron without a moron. One thing people do remember about my father is his nickname, Joe “Jellybean” Bryant. When I was a kid, I asked him if he liked it and he said, “Of course. If you don’t have a nickname, then nobody gives a shit about you.” It’s amazing how a father’s words stick with you.

I’ve personally had some great nicknames. A few off the top of my head are “Lord of the Rings,” “Mr. 81,” “The Closer,” and “King Kobe.” I appreciated those, but when I remembered my father’s words, it caused me to think about who should have been giving nicknames. No one gives a shit about me more than me, so I was best suited to self gloss. Now everyone in the world knows and adores me as “The Black Mamba.”

When you lead a team, you always have to focus on keeping others involved while also keeping them focused on our end product: being a playoff-ready team that understands how to pay at my championship caliber. You can’t get depressed by things like injuries, and you can’t let an injured teammate get depressed about not contributing. So when I realized

November 24 – vs Dallas

Sorry about the abrupt ending to my last journal entry. Some people might think it’s weird to apologize in a private journal, but considering that no one can ever be as disappointed in me as I can be in myself, it feels good to clear the air. I forgive me.

So when I realized that Steve might be feeling left out, I started thinking about ways to include him. I’m at the theater checking out Lincoln last weekend because I respect history and consider the Great Emancipator a kindred spirit in his commitment to excellence, and all of a sudden a trailer for The Great Gatsby comes on. I’m looking at Leonardo DiCaprio, but I’m seeing Steve Nash. Most people are saying I came up with it because Gatsby’s hair looks like Steve’s hair.

Seriously?

I speak three languages. I am EXTREMELY knowledgeable about literature, fashion and modern cinema. I lay a nickname like “Gatsby” on Steve, and everyone should realize that I take my life as seriously as I take my game. Your words are your brands are your businesses after all. Plus, now I’ve got the media talking about Steve again, keeping him focused on how important he’s going to be to this team and getting them to play at my championship level. So what if the hair does look the exact same. Give me some credit.

Anyway, picked up an easy W against Dallas. Figlio di puttana, Cuban! Ha!

-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.