That game was dedicated to Rick Adelman. I'm at home, in the bathroom, trying to take a dump, flipping through the channels and he's complaining (on TV) about how I'm stepping over the line. I can't even do a No. 2 in peace. I'm sitting there grunting at 12:30 at night. Can I go one day without somebody saying something negative about me?

I've won at every level, except college and pro.

Anyone can win a slam-dunk contest. The real Superman is dead. He was assassinated by Pat Riley. I'm the Big Cactus now and ready to roll again.

I don't get nervous in any situation. There's no such thing as nerves when you're playing games.

I'm not really worried about my numbers now as a 36-year-old. I'm not trying to be the first, experimental case of a 36-year-older trying to maintain his numbers, especially when I'm on a team like this. Can I do the same stuff I could do when I was Amare's age? Of course not. I'm not going to even try. However, I feel that I'm the baddest 36-year-old out there.

To all the young people out there who think money and fame is important: that's only a small piece of the pie. You need an education to be totally secure in life. I feel very secure I can go get a real job now.

Jealous punks can't stop my dunks.