Monday, October 27, 2014


(This preview is written by Rockets guard JAMES HARDEN.)

Someone on the internet said I should stop flopping. I was just trying to drive into contact, like my hero, Bob Pettit, and do my best to get points for my team. But I guess people think the way I play isn’t fair. I really do value fairness more than almost everything. Playing the right way is the only way for the NBA to have a product that is aesthetically appealing and marketable, and I know that now.  But it’s also the moral thing to do. The right thing to do. If you want to be thought of kindly by the public, you have to stop flopping. It’s really important that people have a good opinion about you.

Oh man, guys. I just saw a video about my defense on YouTube. I feel so ashamed. I should have been trying harder. I wish there was something I could do to make it up to everyone. This year, because of those videos, I am going to double down on my defensive efforts ALL YEAR. I will need to do less on offense, of course, but that is a sacrifice I will need to make. I wouldn’t want people to keep saying bad things about my defense.

I care so much about what people say about me on their keyboards across America. It is why I wear absurd clothes all the time and have a crazy looking beard that smells like onion soup. I am not equipped to handle someone saying something bad about me, not even close.

If someone I was playing basketball with accused me of flopping, I would stop playing basketball, right there. I couldn’t handle people thinking I was dishonest.

I wish I could be more like Dwight Howard, that guy is never concerned with what people say. It’s why he always smiles, because he is so self assured that he is never unhappy because he is so deeply unconcerned with what anyone thinks about him.

When people say bad things about me, there is no where place I can even attempt to find comfort or fun. I just sit in my house, in white room I call “The Room,” white walls and carpets and everything, and I cross my legs and I let their words fester inside me and rot and poison my whole being. Then I drink a whole bottle of ipecac, and I purge it from my body, taste the acid of my own guts as a repentance for whatever I did to make them angry at me. It’s the only way I can leave the next day and be a professional athlete for a living, so I can make money to give to people to make them like me more.

I really do care so much about what everyone thinks and it’s so apparent all the time.

A photo of the author, consumed with the opinions of others. Also thinking about some fucked up sex thing he did last night that you can’t even imagine, and also the obscene piles of money in his house.

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