Hello World, You Hardly Know Me (...Really)
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by user Manny Stiles
Manny Q Stiles: "Attitude - when I'm on fire Juice on the loose - electric wire. Give me the lane, simple and plain. I'll throw it down your throat like Amare... " - Chuck D, Rebel Without a Pause"
God Only Knows... Black Jesus. Actually... No One Knows! My Name is Amare Stoudemire. I am a freeking beast. I am a businessman with a basketball for a briefcase. I want it... more than you. And when I want it, I HAVE to have it... more than you.
You don't know me. You don't know where I came from. You don't know what I have inside me. You don't want to know. It's the source of your fear.
When I crave dominance in basketball, people callow in fear, they fill with urine and are incapable of keeping it within themselves, they fall into an endless stream of nightmared subconciousness whether waking or sleeping for weeks leading to and months following our meeting. They know they will crumble to my will.
When I crave dominance, 11 other people on the court restrict their being from a variety of purposes into living solely to exist in a mere awe for 48 minutes.
My five opponents don't read the papers. They didn't read your doubts, they didn't buy into your hypothecations. My five opponents don't care about whether I'm 80% or 20%, they want NOTHING to do with me. They want to live without the fear. My opponents do NOT look forward to the challenge I will present them. They don't want to face the fear. My opponents know I will step on the court for one thing only - to render their knees as shivering twigs. I am the fear.
My teammates quiver gaping astonishment and utter reverence. They will not question battle with me on their side. They only thank their creator that they are not subject to my merciless wrath. Yet they fear me as much.
The two referees are witnesses to other-wordly ability and awaiting their incluson with the victims of awe and fear that lay in the paths that I may travel.
The major networks, WGN, ESPN... to them, this was just another game. This was just an average evening with seven games on the 82-game season NBA docket, this was a just (maybe...) another 25 seconds of highlights on SportsCenter (yes... Steve Nash IS that good) and a box score.
I suppose you'll hear how "great" Ben Gordon played. Too bad...
This game was a message. Kill supposed "defense" with DEfense. I lift my game at both ends. Remember tonight. My name is Ah-mahr-rray Stoudemire. Call me "#1" for short. Don't worry, you'll remember it soon enough. I destroy Defensive Players of the Year at will.
To me, STAT this was a reason to show Ben Wallace how to get abused... I dunked on his head, I hit jumpers from the perimeter, I even threw in the baby hook. He can NOT stop me. No one can.
Knee Surgery? Are you KIDDING me? My name isn't Amar-knee. I was back better than before from microfracture (the BIG M-F word LAST SEASON) surgery. I played all summer with with the Me.S.A. team. I played summer league with the Suns in Vegas, I played in the pre-season. I had to get my "game" back, my confidence back and my head back. I did. The world is my personal bitch. Now I want what is mine. Larry O'Brien.
Pound for pound, inch for inch, at the end of the day, no matter the cliche.... when I choose to out-desire you, I will out ANY thing you.
Muscle, Speed. Size. Skill, Athletecism, Ability. Concentration. Effort. Dedication. Desire. Work.
Application of All of the Above.
Intimidation. I don't need to bring it, I don't need to fake it, I don't need to whisper into your ear; "I got yo' heart"
I steal your will. Look at the box score again. You won't see a column called "Intimidation Applied". If there was, I'd lead the league. You DON'T want to play against me. I know it, you know it, the league knows it. You sweat more when the Suns are on the floor, but it's not because we run so much.
How many times did the Bulls try to continue after a foul was called and I swatted you lousy stuff? Not the Kevin Garnett, "you're not going to get a little confidence" swat, but the Amare "you would have been swatted if you weren't fouled, try it again and you will eat it" swat. Every time. Lucky for you, leather digests better than composite basketballs.
How many times did I rip the ball from your grasp or flick you like a bug as you glanced into me and fell to the floor? You winced at my every deep, effortous groan, you felt every "grrrrr" in your bones when I exploded past you for the ball, you heard the splash of every drop of my sweat left on the floor, our field of battle, out-desiring you.
Four steals tonight? Desire. MY ball, not yours. Eighteen rebounds? Desire. MY game, not yours. One block in each of the last eleven games? Oh yeah, I want to be known for my defense now... watch out! WHO says the Suns can't play defense? Let them say it to my face! And face the fear.
You say you want to remember me as a go-to scorer. I'll do that, even alley-oops in the last minute... Dropping 50 on your dome. Averaging 37+ against TD in the playoffs.
But guess what? I don't even need to score on this team. We have this guy... whatshisname.... Oh yeah... "Two Time MVP". I call him MV3. I got Shawn who can put a large number up in any/every column any/every night. Raja, with nuts that can fill the Grand Canyon and can drain a 3 in your eyeball from anywhere on the court. 3D can do it all. The Blur is badder than you can imagine. You said I was done. I have just begun. Ask this guy, he knows what he's doing...
Forget what I did before... the Beast is yet to come.
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