Boston coach Doc Rivers
What can I tell you? Three down to season-ending injuries. Endless baloney rumors. Welcome for two young NBA vets back from China, hoping they can fill out the bench (Terrence Williams, D.J. White). Danny gave me the most shot-happy and potentially dangerous—to the opposition and our offense—player in the league (Jordan Crawford). When we sneak into the playoffs, we’ll finally get back to the good part. I’ll be honest, I was about to sink into a deep depression, then the key to our offense gets hurt, I get to coach again, and my players start to remember what it’s like to have fun on the court again. Tough for us to win on the road when two of our rotation players haven’t practiced with the team yet. It’ll be like training camp all over again once we get back to Boston. Got to sneak up to 6th place and meet the Knicks.
Miami coach Erik Spoelstra
Thank you, LeBron. Thank you, LeBron. Thank you, LeBron. Thanks for joining us, Ray. Thank you, LeBron. Can I get you anything, Pat? LeBron? Dwayne? Ray? LeBron?
New York coach Mike Woodson
Rats! Nobody would take Amare. Melo can’t hit his threes anymore cause he’s worn down from guarding power forwards all year. I told him it was going to happen, but was hoping it wouldn’t be so dramatic. We need some 24-hour care up in here. Rasheed and Camby got hurt. Not shocked. Kidd’s been looking like he needs a rest before April. Maybe we can scheme it up so Kidd and Melo can rest for a week in March. We’ll have Novak and J.R. hang out around the 28-foot mark and toss up 10 treys each for a few games.
Indiana coach Frank Vogel
If Hibbert ever remembers how to score again, and my George brothers (Paul, Hill) keep it together, we’re taking the playoffs by storm, with or without this fan-base. Hope Danny G doesn’t throw things off. Lance Stephenson will win a playoff game at the buzzer!
Brooklyn coach Deron Williams
Funny how P.J. still thinks he’s the coach. Not “Ha-ha” funny, but kind of odd. Ever since I got Avery fired, we’re having fun here. I mean, people don’t realize how much Avery is old-school. I mean he thinks he’s Pop! But he ain’t Pop! Guess I should thank Brook for how good he’s been this year. Instead, I’m going to yell at my ankles for the fifteenth time today: “Hate you, ankles! Ankles! Recover! I demand you recover!”
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