Welcome! Here’s how to navigate Bay Area, team
Welcome to the Bay Area, DeMarcus Cousins.
Moving into a new area can be difficult. To help make your transition smooth, I’m offering you a few tips and suggestions. Clip and save!
Prepare to be psychoanalyzed. No, not just because of your history of disrupting locker rooms and teams, and clashing with coaches. We all have our quirks. But you need to know that the Bay Area is home to 4.3 million registered psychoanalysts (and 1.2 million life coaches).
I happen to be a licensed psychotherapist myself. Or maybe I’m getting that confused with just having had my driver’s license renewed. Whatever.
If there’s something bothering you, basketball-related or otherwise, we’re here to help. We’ll let you know what you should do and not do. Just pick up a newspaper, turn on the radio, or tap into unsocial media. #ToughLove.
You are de-planing from a private jet on your recent “Showtime” short. If that’s your ride, be aware that Warriors owner Joe Lacob has his own plane, too, and you never want to one-up the boss in the toy department. He probably thinks his jet is time zones ahead of everyone else’s. Tell Joe you have to start your plane by spinning the propeller.
For God’s sake, help your new teammates get some nicknames. Greatest sports team on Earth and they have nicknames like “Steph” and “Iggy” and “KD.” You got your nickname, Boogie, in college, when an assistant coach admired your small-man-type skills and said, “Man, you’ve got a lot of boogie.”
You’re a funny, creative guy. Help the fellas.
Channel your inner Wilt. You have a massive estate in Las Vegas, and a jet, and you’re going to be here only one season, so you might want to consider commuting to home games and practices. Smart. In the Bay Area, it’s a lot easier to park a jet than a car.
When Wilt Chamberlain played for Philadelphia, he commuted to and from his home in New York City. It was 97 miles, so for Wilt, about an hour drive. You could fly in what, 30 minutes? If you’re going to be a big star, why not live like one?
Which famous restaurants should you choose? Well, you’ll be making only $5.3 million this season, so none of them. You’ll be broke before the All-Star break. Give In-N-Out a try, but not in your jet.
There are ways to stretch your meal budget. Curry can hook you up with pregame popcorn.
Don’t be shy about helping the refs, which I know you like to do. You’ll be right at home. Due to all the crying your new teammates do, they’re already called the Golden Tears Warriors (or they will be, once this nickname takes hold).
If past form holds true, you, Draymond Green and Kevin Durant will be at the very top of the league in technical fouls. Your injury cost you the NBA tech title last season, but now you’ve got a support group. Did anyone ever call you T-Rex?
I suggest you get together with Draymond and KD and work out a rotation for DQs, so all three of you don’t get thrown out of the same game. Unless you’re carpooling that night.
If you do move to the Bay Area, don’t sweat all the traffic on your street. Can’t be helped. We don’t have a lot of celebs around here, and when tourists buy a “Map to Stars Homes,” there are only four stars on it: Stephen Curry, Mrs. Doubtfire, Al Capone and now you.
On that “Showtime” snippet, you said of opting to play for the Warriors when no one other team wanted you, “This is my nuclear bomb, my last resort.” Try not to drop a nuclear bomb on your last resort. If you must drop one, do it on Treasure Island, where the toxic debris will blend in with the nuclear waste in the soil left over from WWII.
Try to get along with Steve Kerr. If you can’t coexist peacefully with him, your next stop is the American Cornhole Association.
While setting picks or whatnot, feel free to knock down people. But not your own people. The Warriors just got rid of someone who did that. This team can use your edge. Your new teammates are tougher than they look, but they’re little fellas and they get pushed around. It would be good for you to remind opponents that the Boogie Man is in the house.
Most likely, you’ll be gone by this time next year. So as Mrs. Doubtfire said (in a different movie), “Carpe season.”