Richard Jefferson Handles a Midseason Interview

Interviewer: Hello Richard, how are you today?

Richard Jefferson: I'm feeling pretty good. The team is doing great, too, and, you know, that always helps!

I: Richard, how about a firsthand perspective. Could you talk about Manu's recent surge?

RJ: Manu's been, you know, really great these last few games. Tim Duncan sort of looks more like an anchor, physically, but Manu is just as much of an anchor. A light, fast anchor that moves violently under the ship, even hitting the ship and smashing the hull sometimes. But he boosts our morale in a big way. Manu is just an incredible morale-booster.

I: Yeah, I can see what you mean. He really turns those disappointing quarters into stellar ones.

RJ: Heh, just like Tim Duncan with our whole franchise here.


I: Speaking of which, how about Tim? How has working with him been?

RJ: Tim's a real joker, and I guess I've been getting along well with him, when I'm not beating him at basketball video-game. He hates that, heh heh. But really, his play is as efficient and elaborate as it's ever been, and, you know, it's been a joy to watch and interact with.

I: How about DeJuan Blair? 26 points, 21 rebounds? I bet the other teams that passed him up are just dying to have him now!

RJ: Absolutely. Blair's been great. Did you know he's not even 21 years old? God, he knows how to use his hands. Insane numbers, insane hands. Those hands find rebounds where there is nothing there, like a magician on the boards.

I: Yeah, when he's on he can really turn nothing into something in the paint of both ends. And I really like the image of a magician - like pulling a rebound out of his hat.

RJ: Oh you don't know the half of it.

I: Oh yeah?

RJ: Yeah. This one time after practice last week, I looked at my eyes in the mirror and, I swear to God, right there was this contact that I'd lost years ago, right below and to the side of the iris right...here. It must've been stuck in my eye for more than five years. Heh with this kind of thing you never remember not taking it out, you just remember that you had it and lost it somewhere and so you just assume you dropped it. You know what I mean? And it's a tiny contact. I wasn't even sure what it was at first. I could only see it when I like...tilted way to the side like this.

I: Ouch, that's gotta hurt.

RJ: Not really, I hadn't even noticed it. But it bugged me that it was stuck so I called a team doctor anyway to look at it and he confirmed that the contact was still right there in my eye. But of course it might take, like, a minor surgical procedure to get it out. The doctor said he'd talk to a surgeon on staff about a quick removal with tongs or something, but that it would probably not be that simple. It would mean, like, general anesthesia and a half-hour of very precise work. The operating room! It didn't even hurt at all! I wasn't gonna go through with that during the season, and what happens if the surgery goes wrong? General anesthesia can like...kill you if you get unlucky. I don't know. I'd been fine for 5 years and I figured I'd probably have the contact in there until I died, or at least until the end of the season. I'm not likely to die of old age before May like Duncan, so yeah it wasn't a big quality-of-life deal. Heh heh.

I: What does that all have to do with Blair?

RJ: Like I said, I just wasn't gonna think about surgery. And so that's the end of it, right? So the next day I went to Blair to talk about his favorite video-game because he is 12 and the kids like that kind of talk, and before I could even mention the contact, without any provocation, he immediately moved himself towards me and his hands moved towards my eyes. We're not talking a well-lit operating room here. Just a normal, even slightly dim room. A moment later, without asking me he ripped it from my eye with insane precision and speed, like immediately. He's only like 6'5'', you know, and surgeons at that level of expertise are usually almost 7 feet tall.

I: He grabbed the contact out of your eye? Right away?

RJ: Without even a hint from me: that's the thing. Like...maybe he picked up on a slight impression of discomfort, or...I don't even know what else it could be, to be honest. Maybe he didn't even see it or think about it. Maybe it was just instinct. Amazingly this whole ordeal didn't even cause me pain. There was a little shock when he removed it, and I mean, it was pretty odd.

I: I can only imagine.

RJ: Even though I knew that he had just saved me a bunch of time and money, I was actually offended that he had done that to me without asking. It was an offensive rebound, is what I'm saying. I'm glad the lens is gone from me but he probably could have asked first. And he does this like ten times a game, you have to understand. I started to yell, but I forgave him. After all, he's barely seven years old. Blair is a child of seven years, give or take a few, and I can't hold him to my standards of understanding. That wouldn't be fair. I mean he is so young I'm counting the years between us and coming up on infinity.

I: I guess.

RJ: Did you know Tim had a full degree in psychology from Wake Forest before he came to the league? 22 at least before his rookie year, I think. David Robinson, before him, actually went to the Navy for seven years before starting at the age of 29. But Blair? Not even old enough to drink, and I know I've made fun of him for that! He was born in 1989, at least five years after the advent of the personal computer. Did you know he doesn't feel irony when listening to New Kids on the Block or Journey or The Eagles, but actively feels irony in any hint of celebrity culture, including that of his own subcultures? So young. What a freakishly young person.

I: Alright, Richard...I think we've made our point here. He's very young.

RJ: No but... See, the thing was, he wasn't even finished there with the eye.

I: What the hell? Really? Uh...sorry about that.

RJ: Don't worry, yeah, I mean you'd think after a feat like that, Blair'd be plenty finished, and so I gathered myself, complimented him, and prepared to move on with my life, a little morally challenged, but not deeply unsettled. Some people just have the gift of dexterity like that, and on top of that Blair must've had an intuitive sense of healing, so I figured. Now then let's pretend that whole thing didn't happen, was my thinking.

I: Yeah.

RJ: But no. Just after that Blair told me straightaway one of my eyes was a cheap fake, you know, the one with the contact in it? It was just a glass eye wedged in front of my real eye that had some strange mirrors making it seem real or something. It was bizarre, but because of the contact I went along with him on it. Up to now I hadn't even noticed the others appear, but now I was noticing the whole Spurs team standing around me, staring at the surgery I didn't know I needed. The whole roster was there, for some reason. It was a packed little room. The whole gang was there.

I: Like who?

RJ: Let's see, from left to right in the circle it was...me, Tim Duncan, Manu, Tony, Sean Elliott, David Robinson, Tim Duncan, Dennis Rodman, Robert Horry, Tim Duncan, David Robinson's oldest son, Tim Duncan's wife, the AT&T Center, Matt Bonner, DeJuan Blair, myself, Scottie Pippen (not pictured), and finally Tim Duncan. They kept moving around as I tried to count them. I mean, I'm not so sure I saw the others, but I know Tim Duncan was there for sure, because I can still see that devious goddamn smile. Sure enough, just as quickly as Blair had removed the contact minutes ago, he removed the glass eye with those dexterous hands. Now everyone around me was all smiling. I didn't know why. Sean Elliott started to talk about his time as a player in that sickly-sweet voice and I could hear some muffled chuckles about the room. A little freaked now, I quickly thanked Blair again for what he had done, and just then I stared at that glass eye, still in those devil's hands. So weird to see...

I: What about it, Richard? What about the glass eye made you uneasy?

RJ: Well it wasn't even the glass eye at first. First it was the team. Suddenly everyone around me, all the Spurs, started bursting out laughing at me. Tim Duncan was like, "I can not believe you really thought that we had taken out a false eye without a professional operation, just in this room. Ha ha ha ha. Oh Richard, how amusing your struggles in life." Like, what? I wasn't even embarrassed. I was too busy being shocked and a little pissed at Tim Duncan's transgressions and betrayal. Get this: the "glass eye" was actually a snow globe, depicting Blair and Tim Duncan...in a glass-crafting room, crafting that very glass eye/snow globe. I mean, what the hell?

I: So there was never any glass eye. It was all a ruse.

RJ: Not a hint of a glass eye. It had all been sleight of hand. I was so mad. Apparently Blair had been, like, the best magician at Pitt, and had combined this with Tim's psychological prowess to plan the prank. I'm a pretty smart guy, but I'm not out for sniffing out conspiracies like that. I don't watch The Abyss all day...you know, whatever that one quote is. I just don't have the time.

I: You probably could have seen it coming, Richard.

RJ: No, that's a lie. It was a sleight of hand unmatched on this earth. Hands as fast as diamonds are hard, like...the only way to cut diamonds is to build blades of sharper diamonds, just like no one but Blair and Tim could have seen that deception. And it was a knowing, profane little smile on Tim that I saw, just for an instant. He loved every second of it, and still revels in it. So crafty, so hateful.

I: I don't know if I believe you, Richard. I mean, listen to yourself! You're talking about Tim Duncan, not Brian Scalabrine! Tim Duncan, not Eddie House! Tim Duncan, not Stephon Marbury! Tim Duncan never played a single game on the Lakers or Celtics in the last seven years. You must know how crazy this sounds? What's your evidence that any of this took place? Tim Duncan is not the person you describe.

RJ: Well he must have a lot of time on his hands then, man. All I know is that I'm still shaking from all the paranoia, even just turning a corner in broad daylight. I mean I guess this is what playing against Bill Russell must've felt like back in his day, you know? Like he blocks you and next time down the court you're scared he'll do the same and you have to change it up? I haven't eaten breakfast at the same time of day ever since. I see hidden order everywhere and conspiracies behind all the order, you know?

I: Wow, this is really getting you down, RJ!

RJ: Yeah. I've even started believing in Demon Gods. I can still see one of them behind you, right there on the wall, burnt inside my memory like a TV left on too long. Nah, just kidding about that part, hehe. But really though, I haven't slept in days because of this. If I do Tim'll probably put hot sauce in my eyes and he'll make that tonal squeal he calls laughter, as I put my eyes under the faucet for 20 minutes in discomfort. I wouldn't put it past him with what I know, except only that he would never go for the eyes twice...at least I think he wouldn't. I don't know what I believe yet, but I know what I saw. Yeah, Duncan is a real joker alright.

I: He sure has a dry sense of humor.

RJ: You don't believe me at all.

I: Listen, Richard. I am just sure that's what you saw. I have no doubt of your account. Surely your word is unimpeachable.

RJ: Come on. I know it all sounds pretty funny, and I'm really honestly happy for them that they pulled that prank off. I mean think about it: Two players, with so many decades between them, both united in the common purpose in humiliating me with their faster hands. I'm just disappointed I've never won a Finals, I guess, and I just wonder if this whole season is just a larger prank by the Spurs organization to get my hopes up and dash it on a rock like a New Jersey clam, like in 2003. I don't want to face that press conference, heh, because you know that's when they'll spring it on me. Maybe Duncan's whole career, and Blair's whole life, have been devoted to this singular purpose. Maybe Tim put the contact in my eye originally in 2003 or something just so that Blair could remove it last week and set this whole thing up. Nothing would surprise me at this point.

I: I wouldn't go that far, Richard.

RJ: Neither would I. But they might go that far, and that's the whole problem.

I: Blair has wonderful hands though.

RJ: Incredible hands, yes, on both of them. Not in dispute. But let's move on.

I: Alright. So, then, how have you been fitting into the Spurs system, offensively?

RJ: You always ask me that question. Everyone does. Is it really the only thing about Richard Jefferson you want to hear? I am fitting in just fine but I need to learn exactly when to take shots, which is surprisingly complex and hard to learn. Now kindly stop asking me that question. Why do you always ask it? Gosh.

I: I'm sorry, but it's my job to ask things like-

RJ: Oh you don't have to be sorry, Interviewer. I'm sorry for calling you out. It's unfair of me. After all when you signed for that reporter's job you stopped making any choices for yourself. I think that's in your contract. "You will ask whatever we tell you to ask, all and only. The reporter's discretion is limited to choice of suits and ties." Please, someone, just be real with me for once, because even Tim Duncan won't.

I: I really like your sarcasm, Richard. You should appreciate that about yourself.

[Interviewer removes his mask. He is Tim Duncan.]