A writer from ESPN magazine once described me as the world's largest eleven-year-old. That's true. I ride my Sea-Doo jet ski, play putt-putt golf, go to water parks, and act silly. On the bottom floor of my house in Beverly Hills, I have video games, a pool table, a Pepsi machine, and all the things they have in arcades. I drive go-karts, at least the ones I can fit in. I karate-chop my friends when they come over, like the Kato dude in the Pink Panther movies.

I'm one year older, one year sexier - one more, baby. For me, it's all about the bigger picture. We want to win the whole thing. We've got to beat whoever is in our way.

I'm the last in the line of Russells and Chamberlains.

Probably a lack of concentration. I always hit them during practice. I just need to concentrate. Even though I should a lousy percentage, I beat a lot of teams from the line. You have to have mechanics. But see, what people don't know about my wrists is my wrists don't go all the way back. My wrists are crooked and don't go all the way back. I've been practicing and working on them. You can't do everything good.

Excellence is not a singular act, but a habit.

Guys have made livings off me. Nick Anderson got a new contract. Travis Knight got a new contract off me. As a matter of fact, Derek Fisher called me yesterday to thank me. If you double me, I'm kicking out to Eddie, who's the best shooter in the East. Or I'm going to give it to Dwyane, or put it on the ground and come bang on you.

Sometimes I feel like the Tom Hanks character in Big. But my life is not a movie. I never have to go back to Coney Island to find the fortune-teller machine so I have to grow up again.