[scene: Daryl Morey at the office hard at work reviewing box scores, 100 page spreadsheets and his own super-secret player ratings formula. It's his version of coffee and the morning paper... ]
Daryl Morey: [looking at the Rockets/Lakers box score] F--king refs! How do we not get a single free throw attempt in the fourth quarter on our home court?!?! F--k!!!
suddenly the phone rings.
[Morey looks at his caller ID - the number is 213-SPORTS-G]
Morey: *sigh* [answers phone] What do you want, Simmons? I'm kinda busy right now.
Bill "the Sports Guy" Simmons: Yo, what up, Dork-E? Tough game for you guys last night. I DVR'd "America's Next Top Model" so I could watch. Um, I mean, I made the Sports Gal put it on DVR. Gotta pull rank sometime, am I right? But seriously, you need to front Kobe Bryant there at the end. You just can't let him beat you. Letting the Lakers win is almost like a loss for the Celtics, am I right? Did you see the Celtics are 6-0? I never doubted KG!
Morey: [interrupting] Did you just call me "dorky"? And how did you get through? I thought I had your number blocked last week?
Simmons: Ahhh, no way brah - I said "Dork-E", like the letter "E". It's "Dork Elvis" shortened, you get it? It's funny. I give all sorts of crazy funny names to all my friends... Hench, J-Bug, Hopper...
Morey: [overtly annoyed] Bill, the Elvis thing wasn't funny the first time you said it. Nor the 100th time. Don't you have a book to shill or something?
Simmons: Yeah! Did you see? My book is #11 at Amazon! I check this every day you know...
Morey: I'm sure you do. Bill, I'm kinda busy, what do you want?
Simmons: I wanted to know if you read my book! I sent you a free copy! Did you read it?
Morey: [stares at unopened box in corner of office....] Uhhh, yeah, ummm, I'm still in the middle of it. It's kinda long, you know.
Simmons: [boastfully] It's over 700 pages long! It can stop a bullet too! Or as I like to say: it's the Bill Russell to a bullet's Wilt Chamberlain. I wanted to make BIll Russell the #1 player of all time in my completely arbitrary ranking system, but my editors wouldn't let me put that in my book, so I just went with Michael Jordan.
Morey: [dismissive] Well, you know, Michael Jordan is by most statistical observations the best player of all-time. By far. It's not even really much of an argument. Besides, Bill Russell played in a league with only 8 teams and a de-facto racial quota system in place.
Simmons: [defensive] I don't know... Russell was a Celtic, man. And Jordan didn't win 11 rings. Did you know Russell was even the head coach at the end of that championship run?!?! Also, I was talking to Adam Corolla recently and he had this theory about basketball in the 1950s and 1960s........
Morey: Adam Corolla? The sidekick from the Man Show? That fuckin' guy?
Simmons: Hey, he hates it when you call him Jimmy's sidekick. How do we know Jimmy isn't Adam's sidekick?
Morey: Fair enough. Not that I give 2 shits either way. [lengthy pause] Look... Bill.... I gotta get back to this. I have to re-adjust some efficiency formulas today. Then I have to meet with Battier to go over game charts and our plan for stopping Kevin Durant and the Oklahoma City Thunder on Friday.
Simmons: [having a fan-gasm] Ohhh, you can't stop Durant and the Zombies. No way. He's going to lead the league in scoring this year. And he's only 21! There is no ceiling for him.
Morey: Surprisingly, Bill, the recent numbers tell me all we gotta do is dare Durant to shoot from beyond 23 feet... and his +/- ratio suggests he might actually be hurting the Thunder. This is why I am crunching numbers today.
Simmons: No... no.... no. But enough about my man crush - what's this formula you are working on? Maybe we can write a book together about it? I mean... when I'm not scouring box scores and video so I can make my NFL picks!
Morey: Bill, it's secret. I think you can understand that. I only share this information with Shane. And yeah, awesome job going 4-9 with your exemplary research on NFL games last week.
Simmons: Hey, it was an unlucky week for my gambling manifesto. Shane? You mean Battier? What's with the two of you? Are you two dating or something? Come on, what's all this super secret stuff? You should be more like me - I make all my gambling formulas public!! Besides, I promise I won't use your basketball formula against you when I am GM of the Timberwolves. Promise!
Morey: [lauging] You as the GM? I thought you liked Ricky Rubio - why would you want to fuck up his career by being his future GM?
Simmons: Ahh, it's not like I could be worse than David Kahn. And I love Kevin McHale, but... you know. And Ricky would love me... we could watch all sorts of TV shows together that I am way too old to be watching. Couldn't you just see him as a guest star on 90210? Or maybe I could use my connections to get him cast on the Real World during the summer break?
Morey: You have got to stop watching that shit, Bill. I mean, I'm not the man you are at 40 yet, but... even I've grown beyond soap operas masquerading as teenager drama.
Simmons: [nearly in tears] but... but... I want to be cool!! I have to be hip!! It's just like in that movie Almost Famous. How will the other cool kids like me if I don't stay current with what's going on in pop culture?
Morey: [looking for a quick escape] Yeah, ummm, you are exactly like William Miller... you even have the same first name... uhhhhh...
Simmons: I'd never sing "Tiny Dancer" though.
Morey: Of course not.
Simmons: Well, anyway, I wanted to see what Dork Elvis was up to before I had my meetings with all the super-famous directors that are part of ESPN's 30-for-30. I recruited all of them. Me. Myself.
Morey: Seriously, stop with this "dork Elvis" shit. Just stop.
Simmons: [completely unaware] It's funny. It's a funny name. Okay, check ya later, Dork-E!
/hangs up/
Morey: ...... fucking finally. Now I can get back to work. I simply must figure out the proper measurement and ratio for incorporating "incompetent referees" as a variable into my secret formula. Next time we see the Lakers... they won't know what hit 'em. Moneyball can kiss my M.I.T. ass after I perfect this plan. Math, ftw.
