If you’re looking for another blog post on how Jermaine O’Neal felt unwanted and mistreated in Boston, then you’ve come to the wrong place. I’m here to say that this is the last O’Neal piece you’ll ever read on Celtic-Nation.Com, and that I want Mr. O’Neal to know that he’s nothing short of a whiny, wimpy cry baby. Here we are, in the depths of the deepest recession since the Great Depression, with millions of people out of work, and O’Neal wants to belly-ache because he felt he wasn’t utilized properly in Boston. This coming from a man who broke a wrist opening a bag of Doritos. Sheesh.
I’ve got news for you, Jermaine; if you were any damned good at all you would still be a member of the Miami Heat. If you were any damned good at all, you would have gotten thirty touches a game. And if you were any damned good at all, you wouldn’t have to spend all of your free time biting the hands that feed you.
So, I hear you’re close to signing with the Lakers. What do you think you’re going to do there? Go for it, big boy. Do what you’ve got to do. But know this – your best days are behind you and they ain’t coming back. In 2004-05 you averaged 24PPG for the Indiana Pacers, but you only played in 44 games. You’ve played in 70 games twice in the ten seasons preceding the lockout shortened schedule that just concluded, and you only played in 29 games over two seasons with our Celtics.
And you made a ton of money doing nothing but pouting.
Can’t respect you, m’man, no way. No how. Your attitude sucks. You have a sense of entitlement that comes with being a highly paid professional athlete. You didn’t go to college, and you probably don’t know how to do anything outside of the realm of basketball.
All you really know how to do is feel sorry for yourself. You sulked in Miami. You were positively boorish in Boston. I’m sure you’ll be good in Los Angeles, especially if the Lakers get Dwight Howard to go with Steve Nash. You’ll be happy to sit on your ass and cheer, as long as you team wins a title. Didn’t work out that way in Boston, but you still managed to collect a pretty sizable paycheck for being the resident headcase.
Don’t like you, m’man. Not one bit. Glad you’re gone, sorry you were ever on the team. L.A. is the perfect place for you, and who knows, the Lakers might actually get something out of you.
Assuming they keep you away from the Doritos.