Quinn Cook watched the unfolding locker room argument with only mild interest. “Do you think we should separate them?” he asked a nearby Jonas Jerebko.
“Nah,” was Jonas’ short reply.
Quinn nodded in agreement. Arguments in NBA locker rooms were common, especially between players known for their on-court intensity. However, when the argument started to become physical, with some light shoves and finger pointing, Quinn readied himself to spring into action if the need arose.
All of a sudden, Draymond Green was on the floor, and Kevin Durant was on top of him, hitting him in the face with closed fists. Quinn saw that the rest of the team was reluctant to involve themselves in the dispute, so he got up and put a gentle hand on Durant’s shoulder, not wanting to do anything that would result in being punched himself. “Hey Kevin, you shouldn’t punch Draymond.”
Kevin turned his head to look at Quinn while still throwing fists. “He called me a bitch though,” he replied, his voice strangely monotone.
“Yeah, well…” Quinn started, before realizing he had no good reason for Kevin not to be punching his teammate.
“And he said that I’m gonna leave the team,” Kevin added.
“I mean, we all know you are,” Quinn said in an offhand way. However, when he saw Kevin’s eyes flare at these words, he regretted saying them. Trying to backtrack, he continued, “But when I say ‘we all’, it’s not including me because I know you’re a really loyal dude.”
This concillation wasn’t enough; Kevin had decided that Draymond had learned his lesson (his bloodied, unconscious face seemed to indicate that he had) and was getting up to go after Quinn. “You can call me a bitch too, if you want. Bitch.”
“I’d never call you a bitch,” Quinn replied hastily, fearing for his safety. He knew that Kevin, despite being wiry, was just too big to get into a fight with. “But I know somebody else who called you a bitch.”
Kevin, who had been advancing menacingly towards Quinn, stopped his forward movement and dropped his fists from their ready position. “Tell me who called me a bitch.”
Quinn didn’t actually know of anybody else who had been foolish enough to insult Kevin, so he blurted the first name that came to mind. “Kerr. Steve Kerr called you a bitch.” Immediately he regretted this choice of name; there were plenty of people he could have named who wouldn’t be in immediate danger by virtue of their naming. But it was too late.
“I will find him and destroy him,” Kevin answered, turning around to walk towards the exit of the locker room. “I am not a bitch.” His fists were back up and ready to be swung as he pushed open the door and walked down the hallway.
Quinn, seeing that the immediate danger was over, sat back down at his locker next to a smirking Jonas. “What’s so funny?”
“I told you not to get involved,” Jonas said. “I hope we have an interim coach lined up. Kerr might have kicked MJ’s ass, but he’s old now. Kevin’s gonna destroy him.”
Quinn didn’t want to think about it.