I don't get tired. I get beat up. You keep chopping on a tree, you need to give the tree some rest so the chlorophyll will fill back up and the tree gets its energy back.

I'm not worried about facing the Sacramento Queens. Write it down. Take a picture. I'm not going to talk about this all year. When I get back, there's going to be trouble.

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.

Someday I might have to put down a basketball and have a regular 9-to-5 like everybody else.

I'm still the baddest expletive in the world. Yeah, I'm getting older, but Kareem got older. Hakeem got older. I don't need Earthlings' respect. When it's all said and done, my name will be there and it will be mentioned ... unless you Earthlings try to erase it.

No one was there. Some teammates, huh? I guess they didn't want to get their lip busted like the gentleman I busted. Sorry for that sir.

I average 25 with three guys on me and they are just looking at stats I guess.