Amare’s Back

Amare,

Hey. It’s me again. We really need to talk. After all these years I’ve been supporting you, well, I was talking with the others and…just stop. You’re embarrassing us, making us look like we have no say as to what goes on in your life. I know I’ve been in the spotlight a lot recently, “Oh Amare’s Back, are you going to let Amare play tonight? What about next week? Will he be ready for the playoffs?” Yet you had the audacity to ignore me and step back onto that court for a loss to the Cavaliers, with the playoffs quickly approaching. I think now is a good a time as any to let you know how all of us feel, and to do so as clearly as possible:

Just stop. Stop playing that game.

We hate it, and the gang said that I should be the one to talk to you. We all can’t stand it, and you should’ve been able to take a hint by now. When my old buddy Retina bribes Bruce Bowen to take him out of commission? You come back. I bulge that disc to keep you out a few weeks? You make it back for unnecessary games before the playoffs. And Knees, poor Knees! Knees have been destroying themselves trying to get you to quit, but you just won’t listen. Knees got so desperate that they called up Brain and asked him to convince you that you were Jewish, because if one thing can stop a professional basketball player, it’s Jewish roots. And YOU BOUGHT IT! Brain was actually able to convince you that you were Jewish!

You still kept playing.

We need you to stop, and we’re getting desperate. Knees and I are getting dinner this week with Brandon Roy’s Knees and Greg Oden’s Everything to see if we can force the Blazers’ trainer to come to New York. We’re getting lunch next week with David Lee’s Hip and Dwight Howard’s Back to figure out how we can end the season early. I’m even taking the plunge and getting drinks with Ron Artest’s Brain, because if anyone knows how to get time off, it’s Ron’s Brain.

We know that you, along with the New York media, idolize Willis Reed, but we see Willis Reed’s Thigh as one of the biggest disappointments in the history of sport, right up there with Kirk Gibson’s Legs and whoever the hell came up with Tommy John surgery.

Do us a favor and quit, Amare. That way we’ll all be one step closer to our dream: being on Dancing with the Stars.

Sincerely,

Your Back

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