“And remember when he tried to rap the scouting reports to us? That guy was a nut!” Kenneth Faried yelled, doubled over in laughter. “I’m so glad we revolted and kicked him out of here.” The rest of the assembled Nuggets laughed and agreed, all except for one.
Wilson Chandler scowled. “If you guys hadn’t been such children about having your pizza party privileges revoked, Shaw would have had a lot fewer problems.”
Kenneth looked incredulously at his traitorous teammate. “What’s your problem, man? You don’t like pizza in the locker room? We’re having fun and playing a lot better since Melvin started coaching us. Shaw was just in way over his head managing NBA personalities, although, I have to say, we’re a chill bunch of bros if I’ve ever seen one!”
There was more whooping at this statement as a bong was passed around. When it got to Wilson, he declined to take a hit, saying instead, “I don’t know what people were expecting out of Shaw. Sure, his techniques were a bit strange, but I wouldn’t want to coach a bunch of middling no-upside yet non-veteran players in the tough Western Conference. Nobody gave him a chance.”
Just as Ty Lawson was preparing an angry rebuttal, his attention was caught by somebody standing in the entrance to the locker room. He immediately jumped up and ran towards the man. “Pizza’s here! Pizza’s here! Who needs discipline and leadership when you’ve got double pepperoni flying into your face at a thousand miles per hour?”
Wilson put his head in his hands. When would the off-season start, again?