The following is a work of fiction and satire - everything is made up. In no way does it reflect the actual opinions or statements of any person or organization fictionally represented within it.
(Note once more: this is a work of fiction based on nothing but conjecture fantasy and satire and in no way condones violence, torture, conspiracy, trespassing or murder.)
The Place - Portland, Oregon sometime
Hotel Monaco Portland - Premiere Suite
The Guest : David Stern, NBA Commissioner and President-For-Life
From a deep contented slumber, coddled by 700 thread-count sheets, David Stern startles awake to the sound of a large shoe tapping the carpet near his bed.
Stern: "Wha? Who's there?"
He fumbles for his glasses, and peers at the clock next to his bed. It's 3:37 AM.
Stern (angry now): "What the hell! Its not even 6 am! Do you know who I am? If you're the maid, you're looking for work, as of now!"
Whispery voice: "It's not the maid, Dave."
Stern sits up and whips on the light. He's wearing Kobe Bryant pyjamas. Looming over his bed is Rick Adelman, holding a giant feather pillow.
Stern: "Adelman? What the Hell are you doing here? How did you get in?"
Adelman: "It's Portland, Dave, I can do anything here. Anything. Anything except win a championship..."
Stern: "You're crazy Rick! This is illegal! You're going to jail!"
Stern reaches for his phone - it's not there.
Adelman "Shhh, David. Did you know, Clyde and I killed a Bulls fan here in Portland, just to watch him die?"
"It was less fun than we thought it would be. Still fun, though. We weren't even suspects. They blamed it on someone from California. That's how they do it up here."
Stern splutters incoherently for a moment. "Wha? Killed a? You're insane! Gah!"
Adelman "Don't you want to know why I'm here, Dave?"
Stern shows his steely resolve, regaining his composure almost immediately.
"Yes, Rick, old buddy, I'd very much like to know why you are in my hotel room at 4am. Cocaine? Booze? Problems at home maybe? The NBA Cares, you know. We have programs...deals. For special people. Are you sick? Dying?"
Adelman "Never better, David, never better! I caught a trout with my bare hands yesterday. It's invigorating! Anyhow, you know Donaghy has been out of the joint awhile, right?
Stern, alarmed again. "Yes, Rick, I knew the minute he left. We had him followed for, some time, then he disappeared."
Adelman "I know he did. Want to know where?"
Stern "Yes. Where'd he go?"
Adelman "To Houston, Dave. You know he's broke right? "
Stern "He better be. We quashed his book."
Adelman "Well, he's pretty desperate, that's for sure. You know who else is desperate?"
Adelman "Nah, not me. I may just retire after this year, anyway I'm fine. But there are a lot of guys who used to have jobs at places like Gitmo. They're not so popular these days. Kind of unfair, I think."
Stern looks wildly around the room.
Adelman "Quit looking for the phone, David, ok? Your Blackberry is in the bathroom. "
Adelman "So I thought, you know, maybe I could put the two together, find out what happened with the Kings."
Stern "Nothing happened, Rick. You lost. That's basketball. The Lakers are great for a reason."
Adelman "Yeah, that's the story. But that's not what my former spies tell me. Donaghy was on the level, we waterboarded him and everything."
Stern "You what?"
Adelman "We used Enhanced Interrogation Tactics on Tim Donaghy, David. Come on, you're supposed to be smart. I only had to pay him, what, $50k, to torture him. And he was happy to get it. Chump change to the likes of you. You should have paid him off. Much easier. Anyhow, Vlade kicked in some for it, which was nice. It's good to know the truth, sometimes.
Stern "I see where this is going."
Adelman "No, David, I don't think you do. This will be a "coronary infarction"."
Stern, desperate "It's all in the past, Rick! The past! I can get you a ring! It's easy!"
One sometimes forgets that Rick Adelman was an NBA player - a big, powerful, man. David Stern? Not so much.
The pillow comes down over Stern's face. We can only see the frantic kicking of purple and yellow pyjama legs. The kicking gets slower and slower. Finally, it stops.
Adelman "Miracle comeback, my ass."