| | | Editor's Note: When we got to work today, we found another e-mail from that bartending, skateboarding buddy of ours in California. We decided to pass it along again. A word of warning: always wear a helmet.
Chapter 28
... in which our hero watches with horror as the twin comebacks of Charles Barkley and Michael Jordan are derailed in epic fashion
"Yo, hey you -- Wheeler ... c'mon and get your butt back down here, boy!"
Some people don't believe in waiting to get your attention.
Charles Barkley is definitely one of them.
At first, when I reach him I can't see who he's with because the guy's wearing a hat pulled way down over his head.
"Wheeler, fix up some cocktails for me and my friend Michael here -- and bring us some food," Charles says.
You know who his friend is. Everyone in the bar seems to before me. Anyway, I bring Charles and MJ a couple of Margaritas Imperiale. Charles orders two double-mega Nachos with spicy Bolivian sausage.
"That's a ton of food, dude," I say.
"We're in training," MJ says, "That's why we moved in together."
"Yeah," Charles says, and he holds up his hand. On the other end of his hand is Michael's. They're attached by a golden chain, kind of like handcuffs.
"Got this at Tiffany's," Charles says.
|  | | Charles Barkley can't wait to chow down on Shaq on the hardwood. |
"Yeah, Tiffany Balduccini's," MJ says, and they both laugh. In fact, the more I watch them, the more it's like they both do the same things together.
"When the Wizards won the first pick we knew," Charles says.
"-- that we would definitely come back," Michael says.
"-- and we would have a," Charles says.
"-- blast," Michael says, "because us coming back and playing with a No. 1, we could win an NBA --"
"-- title," Charles says. "Providing we got into --"
"-- shape," Michael says.
Michael and Charles chow down and drink up. They're not really eating nachos, I realize -- they're eating the Lakers. Each bite is Shaq. Each swallow is Kobe.
"You'd wipe the court with that --" Charles says.
"-- punk, Kobe. Yeah," Michael says. "And you could out --
"-- rebound Shaq," Charles says.
Charles and Michael are sitting in the V.I.P. section. That's what our manager, Stu Getzler, calls it, but it's really just the three green stools at the end of the bar next to the red stools. Anyway, the point is, they aren't really separate from the rest of the crowd. And maybe they're underestimating how people might react to hearing how they'd tear up Kobe and Shaq. A combined earthquake and civic riot and wildfire and mayoral election doesn't equal the to-do people are making over the Lakers out here.
"Hey -- you fat slob, I'd like to see you step onto the court against Shaq," some guy yells at Barkley.
"Hey, who the hell's --" Charles says.
"-- talking to --" Michael says.
"-- me, like --" Charles says.
"-- that --" Michael says.
I can't alert Stu Getzler fast enough to stop what happens next. What should happen is Stu buys the heckler a drink and calms him down. Like I'm saying, that isn't what happens.
"I said, Shaq and Kobe would kill you two fools," the heckler yells. "Wanna make something out of it?"
"You bet I --" Charles says.
"-- Don't --" Michael says.
"-- Do --" Charles says.
"Don't --" Michael says.
But in a flash, Charles jumps up from his stool and plows his way through the crowd toward the heckler, looking to pulverize him.
Unfortunately, he forgets that he's attached to Jordan. Michael's got his drink to his lips when suddenly he's yanked off his stool, sending drinks and nachos flying. He lands hard on the floor and gets pulled across the sawdust behind Charles, looking like some giant mop. Charles hunts down the heckler pulling Michael on his back all around Lore's.
The heckler is cowering in the corner by the time I get there.
"You see I just hauled MJ's ass all around this joint?" Charles says to the heckler. "Do you think I'm not in shape --"
"-- to take care of Shaq?" Michael says from the floor.
But I can see the grimace on Michael's face. And so can Charles. It takes a supremely conditioned athlete to show the muscular control he shows when he stops from punching the drunk heckler. Maybe that's why Charles Barkley is going into the NBA Hall of Fame.
We crouch down over Michael. He's wincing.
"My --" he says.
"-- hand --" Charles says. "I think it's --"
"-- broken," Michael says. "I hope that doesn't delay our --"
"-- comeback," Charles says.
It looks like his wrist got dislocated when Charles pulled Michael off the stool.
I pack some ice around Michael's wrist and send him and Charles off to the hospital in their limo with the rest of their nachos to get X-rayed.
I only hope Charles doesn't mistake Michael's hand for some spicy Bolivian sausage.
Next week: In Chapter 29, Wheeler tries to talk Phil Jackson out of quitting the Lakers.
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