With all of this media attention surrounding T-Mac (and his relationship with Yao), I decided to have some fun.  Let's say the unthinkable happens: You get to be Tracy McGrady for a day.  We'll say it's tomorrow, an off-day (not that every day isn't an off-day for T-Mac).  What exactly would you do?  Well, maybe it would go along the lines of...

11:30 am -- Early wake-up call this morning.  You get dressed and eat Cheerios for breakfast.  Not that you like Cheerios; you're more of a Wheaties fan, but unlike KG and Tim Duncan, they never gave you your own box.  So you stick it to 'em.

11:45 am -- Go into the basement to check on all the workers.  Annoyed with some recent slacking off, you ferociously yell  "Keep the votes coming, damn it!"

12:15 pm -- Arrive at Toyota Center.  As opposed to parking in a secure lot or garage, you park your baby blue Mercedes CL on Leeland street and hope that someone notices it, possibly enticing them to buy it.  If people don't think you're desperate to get rid of that car, they've got 90,000 reasons to be wrong.  And to think you were going to try to sell it for 150 grand...

1:00 pm --  Media time.  You and Yao talk to reporters, share laughs, and talk about how much Von Wafer and Ron Artest have helped the team this season.  Then you smile, take a picture, and denounce every negative media report possible.

1:05 pm -- Once alone in the locker room, you give Yao a swift kick to the midsection and hurriedly limp away before he can see who it was.

2:00 pm --Time for some conditioning.  Your trainer puts you through a vigorous workout.  After two hours of hard work, he must have said the words, "On the line!" about a hundred times.  It's the worst three words that a player can hear from his coach.  Normally, it means that the team or player is going to run sprints.  But for you, Tracy McGrady, it's worse.  And when you think it's finally over, he yells it again.  You can't take it anymore.  It's too unbearable!

"ON THE LINE!"

4:00 pm -- Make a phone call to Ashton Kutcher and demand for him to Punk David Aldridge.

4:15 pm -- Make a phone call to Yao Ming, wait for him to pick up the receiver, and then hang up right away.

5:00 pm -- Back to conditioning, and this time it's much worse.  The trainer forces you to run with weighted vests, do full-court shuffling drills, and, lastly, makes you shoot nothing but ten-footers without fading away or leg-kicking.  You must make ten in a row jumping straight up.  To provide motivation, the trainer brings in a twelve year old and charges him with the same task.

6:30 pm -- Sore from using good form, you struggle to finish your shots.  You then sign the kid's jersey (who has been waiting for an hour), and leave the gym.  But not before shooting a spit-ball at Yao's face.

7:00 pm -- Manicure time.  While you wait, you check out what's new in this week's issue of Vogue.  You're still pissed that you missed last week's issue because you had a game to play.  Tsk.

8:00 pm -- Dinner time.  You, Luther Head, and Rafer Alston hit up Smith and Wollensky's for a nice steak dinner.  After finishing up, Rafer and Luther want to hit up the strip clubs, but you politely decline and instead vote to go home and see the wife and kids.  In the most ironic exchange ever, Luther and Rafer call you a pussy, meet up with Joey Dorsey, and hit up the town.  Scrambling to find a phone, you then call up your buddy to see if he can plant some more drugs in Dorsey's locker.  "Whatever gets him back to Rio Grande."

9:00 pm -- After playing with the kids, you retire to your room and throw down a few drinks.

9:15 pm -- Shane Battier calls you up and asks if you want to see Marley and Me. Nearly drunk, you agree, but Shane immediately yells, "Goodness!  Does everyone really think I'm that white?!?" and hangs up the phone in a rage.

10:15 pm -- Film study time.  Tonight, it's Training Day.

12:30 am -- Dart practice, this time with a picture Von Wafer as the target.  With every throw, you yell, "I will impose my will!  I WILL IMPOSE MY WILL!"

1:00 am -- Unable to sleep due to screaming children, you send coach Rick Adelman a text message for some Nyquil.  You get no response for the next fifteen hours, which ends up being a text that reads, "Breakfast?"

2:00 am -- When you're finally back to your normal, sleepy state, you're suddenly awoken with a smash to the face by a pillow.  All you can hear is Yao's fading voice scream, "You try to f-ing stop me!"