http://msn.espn.go.com/page2/s/caple/021125.html "Up in Smoke II," 2002 [SCENE OPENS WITH A MEDIUM SHOT OF A STRANGELY TEXTURED HUMVEE OF A VERY ODD GREEN COLOR DRIVING SOUTH ON INTERSTATE 5 NEAR CENTRALIA, WASH. A THICK CLOUD OF SMOKE FILLS THE FRONT SEAT OF THE VEHICLE AND POURS FROM THE WINDOWS. AS THE CAMERA ZOOMS IN, THE SMOKE FINALLY CLEARS ENOUGH THAT WE CAN FINALLY MAKE OUT THE OCCUPANTS -- DRIVER DAMON STOUDAMIRE OF THE PORTLAND TRAIL BLAZERS AND TEAMMATE RASHEED WALLACE IN THE PASSENGER'S SEAT. [WE CAN HEAR STOUDAMIRE MUMBLING TO HIMSELF AND WALLACE SINGING IN A EAR-DAMAGING FALSETTO] STOUDAMIRE: I'm just saying, no way I let Barkley kiss my butt. WALLACE: "Basketball Jones, I got a Basketball Jones. Got a Basketball Jones, oh baby, oh-oh-ooo ..." STOUDAMIRE: Hey, dog, how 'bout you shut your mouth and hand me some of your good grass, so I can make like Phil Jackson after winning the NBA Finals? WALLACE: Tell you what. Shaq doesn't come back soon and the Zen Master will be smoking these bad boys. STOUDAMIRE: Not as long as he's got that sweet thing to come home to after the game. Now give me some of your good grass. WALLACE: Why you asking me for good grass? Didn't the police bust your butt for possessing a pound of it in your crib? STOUDAMIRE: That's why I gotta go to you, dog. Now, hand me some of that before I have to tee you up, too. [WALLACE HANDS HIM AN ENORMOUS JOINT THE APPROXIMATE SIZE OF BOB LANIER'S SHOE] "Is there some sort of problem, officer?" STOUDAMIRE: What the hell -- is that a joint or a chalupa? WALLACE: My man, they give this brand of chalupa to the players for 100-point games, and I guarantee you Dallas goes 82-0 and hits the damn century mark every night. [BOTH LAUGH AND TAKE ENORMOUS TOKES, THEN LAUGH SOME MORE. SUDDENLY STOUDAMIRE LOOKS UP IN A PANIC] STOUDAMIRE: Whoa, dog. That's some potent stuff. Maybe I ought to slow down. WALLACE: How fast are you going? STOUDAMIRE: Don't know. Can't read the speedometer in all this haze. Must be 80 though. But this ride is so smooth, it's like we're parked by the side of the road. WALLACE: [LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW IN A DAZE] Dog, I think we are parked by the side of the road. STOUDAMIRE: Damn. [THERE IS A KNOCK AT THE WINDOW. A STATE TROOPER IS THERE] WALLACE: Oh, man. We've been pulled over. [TOSSES LIT JOINT INTO THE BACKSEAT WHERE IT BEGINS TO SMOLDER] [THE TROOPER KNOCKS ON THE WINDOW AGAIN] STOUDAMIRE: [GIGGLING INSANELY] "You keep'a knockin', but you can't come in ..." STATE TROOPER: May I see your license, sir? STOUDAMIRE: Whaaaa? STATE TROOPER: Your license, sir. Where is your license? STOUDAMIRE: It's right there on the rear bumper. STATE TROOPER: Your driver's license. [STOUDAMIRE REACHES FOR HIS WALLET AND HANDS THE LICENSE TO THE STATE TROOPER. MEANWHILE, THE JOINT HAS SET AFIRE THE REST OF THE HUMVEE, WHICH, UNBEKNOWNST TO STOUDAMIRE AND WALLACE, IS MADE ENTIRELY OF HIGH GRADE mar1juana AS PART OF A COMPLEX DRUG SMUGGLING OPERATION] STATE TROOPER: What is your name, sir? STOUDAMIRE: Isn't it right there on the driver's license? Yeah, that's it. That's my name. I'm Organ Donor. [BEGINS GIGGLING AGAIN] STATE TROOPER: I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle, sir. [STOUDAMIRE DOES SO, AND WHEN HE OPENS THE DOOR, SMOKE FROM THE BACKSEAT BILLOWS OUT AND SWIRLS AROUND THE STATE TROOPER WHO BREATHES IN A HUGE WHIFF. HE BREAKS INTO A SILLY GRIN AND THEN TURNS TO STOUDAMIRE] STATE TROOPER: Hey. What do you want? STOUDAMIRE: I don't know. You're the one who asked me to step out of the car. STATE TROOPER: Far out. Hey, like, do you have anything to eat? WALLACE: [LAUGHING] How 'bout a chalupa? STOUDAMIRE: [HANDING THE JOINT TO THE OFFICER] Yeah, dog. You gotta try one of our chalupas. STATE TROOPER: [TAKING A BIG DRAG] That's one great chalupa. [HE DANCES BACK TO HIS PATROL CAR, LEAVING BEHIND A PUZZLED STOUDAMIRE, WHO PULLS THE HUMVEE BACK ONTO THE FREEWAY AS THE TROOPER STARES AT HIS CAR DOOR, TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW IT OPENS] WALLACE: Like I said, they give those out in Dallas, and I guarantee you half the NBA signs up with Cuban. STOUDAMIRE: No way, dog. San Franciso just passed a measure legalizing medicinal mar1juana. Everyone want to play for Golden State now. WALLACE: Yeah, and Isaiah Rider will make a comeback just as soon as he figures out how he can get a case of glaucoma. [THE CAMERA PULLS BACK, SHOWING THE CAR AS IT DRIVES ALONG THE FREEWAY. AS THE SCENE FADES TO BLACK, WE HEAR THE TWO GIGGLING AND WALLACE SINGING AGAIN] WALLACE: "Basketball Jones, I got a Basketball Jones. Got a Basketball Jones, oh baby, oh-oh-ooo . . ." Jim Caple is a senior writer for ESPN.com. He can be reached at cuffscaple@hotmail.com.
I attended the ugliness known as the 77-71 loss last week, and Stoudamire just about got booed off the floor.
