SMUSH AND KOBE'S ARGUMENT ENDS IN GUNFIRE

It looks like a bowling alley.  Built as a secret Masonic Lodge, it was converted into a Gentleman's Club in the 60's, primarily a cigar lounge.  Today it's the Beverly Hills Gun Club, in the basement of the Beverly Wilshire Hotel.  Gunsmoke's the only smoke there now.

Kobe Bryant, feet apart, aims and fires.  For the rush.  His release valve from the pressures of the NBA.  Blasting the hell out of a paper target does the trick.  He looks forward to the challenge.

Smush Parker, an old teammate pushes through the door, stops, and taps Kobe on the shoulder.

Kobe pulls down his earmuffs.  "Hey, Smush Parker.  What are you doing here?"

"I can't come in and shoot off my gun a few times?  I gotta have your permission?"

"Hey.  Relax.  I haven't seen you for what?...7 years."

Kobe sets out another paper target, a torso and head outline.  He sets his earmuffs, points his Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum, and blasts.  Six shots.  He retrieves the target.  All six shots in the forehead.
 
"Well," says Smush. "I'm sure you've heard the interview I did for TMZ.  I told them you were a terrible teammate, so I stopped passing you the ball."

"Yeah, I heard," says Kobe, pulling down his earmuffs.  "And you think I was the reason you got traded...back in 2005.  Face it, it was your lack of talent.  You cost me the 2005-06 MVP trophy to Steve Nash."

“You said I was the worst.  I didn't belong in the NBA.  So, you had them replace me with Jordan Farmar in the playoffs.  I was better than him."  He stares at Kobe.

"It wasn't the passing, Smush.  You just weren't that good.  What are you doing now?  You left the NBA.  I heard Iran?"

Smush unzips a bag and pulls out his gun.

"What the hell?"  says Kobe.

Smush hold the gun at arm's length.  "It's a  Pfeifer Zeliska 28mm.  World's biggest hand gun."

"I thought my gun was big."

Smush sets up and shoots.  Two hits out of six.  Smush looks at his target, then glances over at Kobe's target.  His shakes his head. 

"So what have you been doing since you left the NBA," asks Kobe.

"Well after you made them trade me...I played for the Heat, and I was doing good, then I get jumped by this guy in the parking lot...but it's too hot down there, and the bugs, so I got a chance with the Clippers."

He puts on his earmuffs on again, and shoots. Three hits this time. He glares down at the gun, and then sights down the barrel.  He takes a deep breath.  His hands shake.

"Didn't you play with the Nuggets?" asks Kobe.

"So?  I played with the Nuggets...2008."

"You know Smush, there are tons of players who have rings because they were my teammates.  They played as part of the team.  They didn't hog the ball.  You just didn't perform when you were supposed to."

"What he hell?  I performed.  You know that."

 "The Rio Grande Valley Vipers of the NBA Development League.  I think that's where you went next?"

"What, you been stalking me?  I'd still be on the Lakers wasn't for you."  Smush stares over at Kobe.  Sweat forms above his eyebrows.

"Sour grapes, Smush."  Kobe puts on his earmuffs, and pulls off six more.  They all hit chest high.

"It's only because you played with me, you got signed with Guangdong Southern Tigers of the Chinese Basketball Association,  I read about  it."

Smush hold his gun to his side.  He glares at Kobe.  He takes a step toward him. "You know so much about me..."

"You can't blame me for getting dropped by the Tigers," says Kobe.  "Then it's the Russian club Spartak Saint Petersburg."

"So I went to Saint Petersburg.  I stayed a professional."

"Last year?"

"Last year I played in Greece with Iraklis Thessaloniki B.C...So what?  You know, I don't like you, Bryant.  Never did."  He waves his gun in the air.

Kobe moves back. He looks around for security.

"I don't care."  Smush gets very loud.  "I'm traveling around the world.  That against the law?  Petrochimi Bandar Imam of the Iranian Super League, played some in Venezuela, then signed with the Indios de San Francisco of the Dominican Republic."

"Well, I'm real glad you're getting a chance to see the world."

He jams on the earmuffs, and shoots.  He misses the target altogether.  He breathes through his teeth.  His body shakes.

"You didn't fit into our program," says Kobe.  "You know I could have been MVP." 

"I didn't kiss your ass. That's the reason."

He yells,  "You're the one who screwed me," and waves the gun in the air.  Wildly. The Pfeifer Zeliska 28mm goes off.  One. Two. Three times.  Fire.  Smoke.  Explosion.  Like an earthquake, the entire Hotel shakes.

Kobe grabs his leg and goes down, hit high in his thigh.  Kobe's mouth opens but there is no sound.

Blood shoots everywhere.

Smush freezes, ducks down, turns, and bolts for the door.  Up the stairwell, he's out onto Wilshire Boulevard, across the street, past Cartier on the corner and up Rodeo Drive.

But running down the sidewalks of Beverly Hill is a mistake, especially when you hold a large, very large, hand gun.

The police react quickly in Beverly Hills.  Very quickly. Police cars already block the street, their doors open, guns drawn.  "Stop,"  "Drop the gun.  "On your knees."  All at once.  Smush knows there's no way.  "Damn."  He stops and as he raises his hands, another cop tackles him from behind.  His face mashed to the cement, he watches his Pfeifer Zeliska 28mm bounce into the street, and slide into a storm drain, gone.  "Damn."   Kobe's fault.  I hate him.  I hate him.

Six hours later and a $100,000 bond, he sits on a bed at the Beverly Hills Hotel.  ESPN, he watches the news conference from Cedars Sinai Hospital.

 "We were talking basketball, and Smush kinda lost it.  We were at the Gun Club, and well, he shoots me in the leg.  It really hurts, but my uniform will cover the bandages.  I'll be playing tonight.  A little gun shot can't stop me."

And it didn't.  Against the Clippers, Kobe, with a slight limp, scored 29 points, 8 rebounds, 5 blocked shots.

Smush watches the game.  He paces as he watches.  He wants to punch the screen.

Then, after the game:  "We'll just have to see what the doctor says.  Smush, I don't know, probably had a lot of anger issues to overcome.  About pressing charges against him?  Well, he did shoot me in the leg."

As for Smush, he's in the wind.  Last seen late last night, on his stomach, reaching down into a storm drain along Rodeo Drive.  Smush, don't leave town, the Beverly Hills Police would like to talk.
 ..........................................

The entire argument can be found:
http/sports.yahoo.com/blogs/nba-ball-dont-lie/smush-parker-fires-back-kobe-bryant-worst-slam-205745231--nba.html

HELP COMES FROM:
//www.toptenz.net/top-10-huge-personal-firearms.php
Smush/WikiPedia,  readabilityformulas.com,  Google/Images, 

BUT LeBRON HAS NO RINGS

Linden and Edison park their bikes in front of  'Hoboken Hobbies.'

"See, nobody's gonna want a rookie card of J. R. Smith, when you can get Jeremy Lin.  He's hot, or Kobe Bryant, or LeBron James.  See what I'm saying?"

"How do you know which ones to buy?" says Linden.

"You want to get cards that you can sell later," says Edison.  "Rasheed Wallace, very good player, but not as good as a Chris Paul right now.  You have to be lucky.  Pick a player that'll be hot in the future.  You never know, some first draft picks, can't hack it in the pros.  Like Paul Davis or somebody like Guillermo Diaz."

"You really know all about this," says Linden."

"I'm spending twenty buck," says Edison.  "So I made a list."

They walk inside.  Edison unfolds a piece of paper.

"Hey, guys," says the Man Behind the Counter, 'Clark,' on his shirt.

"We're looking for NBA cards.  I made a list of the top NBA Players, ones I'm looking for."  says Edison.

He hands the paper to Clark.

The list reads:
1. Dwight Howard
2.Carmelo
3.LeBron
4. Durant 
5. Kobe

"And Chris Paul," says Edison.  "If they go deep in the playoffs, he'll be valuable."

"Is this your order of best in the league?  So you think Dwight Howard is the best?  Better than Kobe, or LeBron even?"

"Yup.  My top five.  And maybe Derrick Rose too. Do you have any of these guys, rookie cards maybe?"

"He's got twenty dollars and I got about fifteen." says Linden.

"Shshsh-ush," says Edison.  He elbows Linden.  "Look, we just want to see what you got.  Maybe we'll buy some."
 
A young lady wipes clay off her hands with a rag.  "Heard somebody say NBA.  Guys buying some cards?"  Her shirt says 'Elizabeth.'

"Liz, take a look at this, you know Basketball."

"Hmmm," says Elizabeth.  She looks at the boys, then at the list.  "You sure about this?  Usually LeBron's on top?"

"No," says Edison.  "I don't have LeBron first on my list.  I didn't think he is all that popular?"

"Well," says Elizabeth. "Everybody's heard of him.  But I wouldn't put him on top either.  He doesn't show up when it really matters, at the end of games.  Probably be MVP, but he still doesn't have a ring yet."

"Come on," says Clark.  "He's the complete player.  He's like a power forward on offense, and a center on Dee."

"Gotta win Championships," says Elizabeth.

"What are you saying, Liz?  How many rings you have's got nothing to do with how good a player you are."

"You got Dwight Howard on the top of your list?" says Elizabeth.

"I thought in the future he would be..." says Edison.

"Remember in Orlando," says Clark.  "They said there'd never be another Shaq.  Now they say there'll never be another Dwight Howard.  I have some Dwight Howard cards."
 
Dwight Howard might be one of the best centers of the last 20 years." says Elizabeth.

"We just came in to see what you've..." says Edison.

"But what does he do, really?" says Clark.  "With Howard, it's dunking and blocking, that's about it.  No, no.  He's no LeBron or a Kobe.  He's a good player, but off the court?   Too much controversy.  Remember Dennis Rodman?"

"How about this."  He pulls out a card from under the glass counter.  "Here's an Andrew Bynum?  With the Lakers.  Once he starts getting touches like Dwight gets, Lakers'll get 2 or 3 more championships before he retires.  Even though it's LA, if you're looking for a break out player."

"They don't want Bynum.  Take a Dwight Howard," says Elizabeth.

She stops.

"No,  you don't want a Dwight Howard.  All he can do is flex his muscles and smile.  Griffin's another, can't buy a free throw, like Shaq was."  She looks at the paper.  "No, this list?  Where'd you get this?"

"I was on the internet..."

"No way," says Elizabeth. "Here's how I'd do this list, best in the NBA would be Kobe, he's got the rings, LeBron, even though I don't like him, Durant, Wade, Dirk, Carmelo, Rose, Paul, Stoudamire ....then maybe,...maybe, Dwight Howard."

"Okay, okay, maybe not Howard first... " says Edison.

"Pound for pound it's Dwyane Wade," says Clark.

"Come on," says Elizabeth.  "Have you been watching these playoffs?  Wade's a flopper.  Never saw anything like it.  He gets brushed, he flops back, guy goes crazy."

"Are we going to buy any of these?" says Linden.  His voice low.

Edison shrugs, and scratches his head.

"There's no question.  It's Kobe," says Elizabeth.  "You gotta put Kobe higher on this list, come on. Game is on the line , who you want with the ball?  Kobe's the guy."

"Really?" says Clark.  "Kobe, he's your guy?"  He grabs the paper, and holds it up.  "Last three or four years, LeBron, Dwight Howard, and Chris Paul been the best players in the league.

"But, what about..." says Elizabeth.

"Let me finish." says Clark.  "Carmelo plays no Dee, takes way too many shots and is not a leader.  Same with Durant.  One man shows."

"This list is way out of whack," says Elizabeth.  "Guys, what were you thinking?  No way in the world Chris Paul is better than Derek Rose.  And where's Russell Westbrook?  He's not even on your list."  Her eyes are black.

Edison steps back.  "We just came in to get some cards..."  Then to Linden, "I'm sorry I brought you in here."

Linden looks at his iPhone.  "I gotta go soon.  My mom'll be waiting.  Supposed to come right home from school."

"Yeah, me too." says Edison.  "Maybe if we come back on  Saturday?"

"Liz, Come on."  Clark pokes at the paper.  "Where's Nowitzki on this list?  This is stupid.   Didn't the Mavericks win it all.  And wasn't he playing with the flu?"

"I'm not stupid, Clark."  She takes a pen and scratches out names on the list, and draws arrows.  "Here's how this should be."  She shoves the piece of paper back toward Clark.  "Toss up, LeBron, and Kobe, and Durrant, then I like Wade..."

"I think I'd like to buy a Chris..." says Edison.

She looks at Edison, glares, then back at the list.  "Okay, okay," she says.  "Who's got the most rings?"

"Forget rings," says Clark.  "LeBron had no team in Cleveland.   Best players want to play in LA, or Florida.  Who wants to play in Cleveland.  Too cold, and windy, and, trust me, there's absolutely nothing to do there."

"Ridiculous.  You know, you're actually laughable. What's your mighty King James really accomplished -other than some scoring titles?  Kobe Bryant is still the best player in the NBA. Crunch time, it's Kobe.  Tell me I'm wrong.  Go ahead."  Flames are in her eyes.

Edison puts his wallet back in his pocket.  He takes a deep breath.

"Clark, if you knew anything at all about the NBA, by the time Kobe was LeBron's age he already had 3 rings.  Still averaging the second most points in the league a 33.  You know I'm right.  This list is a complete joke."

"Liz, are you feeling okay?  How can you say that?"

Her voice is higher. "Doesn't matter, Kobe created a team that wins.  Basketball is more than just one guy. Rings, rings, rings.  That's what it's all about.  Kobe's looking for one more, beat Michael Jordan."

"Ridiculous," says Clark. "It's the player.  How can you be so ignorant?"

"Ignorant?"  Her hands are fists. Her voice cracks.  "Who're you calling ignorant?"  Here eyes are black and hard.

"You, Liz.  Even Carmelo is better than Kobe when it comes to..."

"What?"

"Come on," says Edison.
 
The two leave Hoboken Hobbies, jump on their bikes, and ride toward home. Neither looks back.

"I'm going online.  Gotta be better than that place. We'll buy something. Those people, over basketball cards, come on.  Like they were going crazy."

.........................

Help comes from:
sports.espn.go.com/nba/news/story?​page=Roundtable-KobeLeBron
sportschump.net/2011/02/23
Google/Images, WikiPedia/LeBron James/Kobe/

KOBE CAN'T SIT MUCH LONGER

I sit in my usual booth in the back of the Montana Galley, nursing a tall glass of buttermilk, while I size up a horse in the fourth at Santa Anita, a nag by the name of, 'Skullduggery,'  when:

My iPhone vibrates.
 
"Speak to me," I say.

"Hey, like to talk with Brentwood... Is this Woody?"

"Well,"  I say.  "As I live and breathe. Diego Garcia.  How's the Fresh Air Cab Company doing?  Still six cabs?"

"Thinking of adding a seventh, okay, but this isn't the reason I'm calling.  Kobe, okay?"

"Kobe Bryant?" I say.  "He takes a cab?"

"Had my Green TownCar down at LAX, he calls me, okay, so I shoot over to the private planes, and he just jumps in and says he needs to go to Staples.  And that's not all, okay.  Guess who jumps in right beside him?"

"Chris Paul."

"No, crazy, it's Mike Brown, the coach.  Can you believe?"

"Very interesting," I say.

"Okay, so I ask them how they got my number?  Kobe says he had my number, okay, 'cause I used to drive for Smush Parker, and sometimes Kwame Brown, and Sasha Brown.

"So okay, you ready.  This'll be dyn-o-mite for your sports column in the Valley Post Picayune.  Just give me a plug okay, Fresh Air Cab Company, okay?"

"Depends, Diego.  Whatcha got?"

"Okay, okay, so, my good friend Modesto Merced, one of my drivers, we talk basketball, so I know, okay.  So I says, Mr. Bryant, do you need more leg room, you know, 'cause of his bad shin.

"He says no, real fast, then looks at Mike, and Mike says, no also.  Then he says quickly, Kobe's okay, but adds, He's really in pain, but I think we'll manage.  I see them looking at each other."  Diego breathes deeply.
"Kobe and the Coach in my cab. So?  What do you think?"

"I think this is getting better.  Please, continue."

"Okay, okay.  Know what I think.  Nothing's wrong with Kobe's leg.   Brown's just giving him time off before the playoffs.   I'm thinking this, okay, from their Body language, and the way they answered real fast."

"So Kobe's not hurt?  That what you're saying?"

"He's being rested.  Modesto told me all about it, okay.  Here's what he said.  Kobe makes out like he's got a bad leg.  The other teams think he's not 100% when he comes back.  So they play him differently.  Double team Gasol, or Bynum instead."
   
"Diego, look," I say.  "The Lakers have won 4 out of six with Kobe on the bench.  They could easily have lost those games, then what?"

"But the Lakers got good players, if they work as a team.  Brown, was watching Kobe dribble 10 seconds off the clock, then make 35% of his shots.  Modesto says, He'll make his shots, but what about the other 4 Lakers?  Sitting on the bench Kobe can see this.  The Lakers win games as a team.  Brown knows he can't tell Kobe not to shoot.  This lets Kobe see for himself.  Brown had it figured that way."

"So your friend thinks Kobe won't shoot as much when he comes back," I say.


"Okay, good question, so I ask Kobe, Mr. Bryant, The Lakers are winning with you on the bench.  How do you feel about that?  And you know what he says?"

"I'm listening," I say.

"Not much I can do about it.  Then Brown says, He's got such a bad leg, he has to be on the bench.  Then Kobe says loudly, Oh, yeah, with my bad leg.  But it should be heeled by playoff time."

"But Diego," I say. " What if the Lakers had lost all those games, they'd be behind the Clippers, and third seed."

"According to Modesto, third seed, Memphis, is a better match up.  Okay, Woody, so listen to this.  I ask Kobe, Kobe, how do you like coaching.  Lakers are winning when you're on the bench.  Maybe we shouldn't fix it if it ain't broken?"

"You said that to Kobe Bryant?  Brilliant, Diego.  He'll never ride with you again," I say.

"Okay, know what happens next.  Modesto was right.  Kobe says, Say what?  You don't think they need me?  Then Brown says, Course we need Kobe.  But I think we can all see how the team is doing as a team.  We all work well together.

"Then Kobe says, Gotta admit, coaching, I've been doing good at that.  Much more relaxing than playing, no ice downs after the games.  I can see my kids more, you know.  He looks out the window.  I just need one more championship ring, one more than Michael.  Then he grins at Brown and says, This coachin's real easy."

"Sure, says Brown, when you're winning.
 
"Okay, okay, now we get to Staples.  They both say thanks for the ride, nice tip, okay.   Kobe, big smile, jumps out, then Mike Brown says, Hey Kobe, careful with that leg, and Kobe says, Oops, Oh yeah, my leg, then they smile at each other and walk toward the employees door."

"Maybe what you're telling me is true.  But, they're certainly taking a chance.  This layoff could make Kobe rusty for the playoffs, there's only four games left in the season."

"But," says Diego. "Makes sense.  Kobe get's his rest.  They give the impression he's got a leg problem, and Kobe sees first hand how teamwork wins games."

I sip my buttermilk.  This does make sense.  Who would make a better coach than Kobe Bryant?

"Oh boy.  Sorry, gotta go," says Diego.  "Somebody needs a Fresh Air Cab ride.  Later, Woody."

"Thanks Diego.  Keep me informed."

I thumb my iPhone, and spin it on the table.  It's crunch time.  The Lakers have only four more regular season games.  I lean back in the booth.  You know, maybe there's a whole lot more to this Kobe Story than him just sitting on the bench.
..............................

Help comes from:
cbssports.com/nba
articles.latimes.com/2012/apr/16/sports/la-sp-simers-20120417
yardbarker.com/nba/articles/kobe_bryan
readabilityformulas.com, Google/Images, Wikipedia/Kobe