A Story About the Big Nude Cactus
I Have to Tell You a Story About the Big Nude Cactus
It’s a game day, early in the afternoon. Shaq picks me up because we’re both heading to the trainer’s room to get some work done before tip-off. We get to the locker room, take our clothes off and go over to the rehab room. But the trainer isn’t there. We wait 15 minutes. We’re all there in towels, just sitting around waiting. Shaq is kind of upset at this point. So he takes off his towel (not sure why) and heads down to our trainer’s office. He opens the door and is like, “Are you coming? Or am I going to have to pick you up and take you?”
At first, the trainer can’t tell if Shaq is joking or not. Shaq takes a few steps closer and our trainer knows he’s not. So the trainer takes off — sprinting down the hall.
Shaq follows him, of course. Still butt-ass naked. Now Shaq is in a dead sprint down the hallway, running past arena workers and other staff, screaming at the top of his lungs. This is a normal business day. It’s a weekday.
Everyone is in official Suns gear or in suits. Shaq is in his birthday suit.
Just picture that, if you dare.
Future Hall of Famer, one of the greatest big men to ever play the game of basketball. And here he was, naked, chasing our tiny little trainer through the arena halls. I think the chase lasted 15 minutes. Which is a long time for the Big Nude Cactus to be loose in the arena.
That’s my friend, that’s Shaq.