(Subway restaurant in Boston. Members of the Boston Celtics are ordering their post-practice meal)

Paul Pierce: …give me a cold-cut combo, toasted, everything on it, and…Italian dressing.

Sandwich Artist: Alright sir. Next?

(Kevin Garnett stands in front of counter, head bowed, eyes closed)

SA: Sir? Can I take your…

Garnett: (slowly raises index finger, moves it to lips)

SA: Oh…kay.

Garnett: (softly) Meatball.

SA: And what kind of bread would you like?

Garnett: Wheat.

SA: Wheat it is. (begins making sub) Would you like this toasted?

Garnett: (raises head, juts out jaw)


SA: Would you like your sub toasted?

Garnett: (slowly shakes head)

SA: Not toasted.

(A young boy approaches Garnett with a pen and piece of paper)

Boy: Mister Garnett, sir? Can I have your autograph?

Garnett: (eyes fixated on sub being made) …

Boy: Mister Garnett?

Pierce: (leans down) He can’t hear you when he’s ordering a sub, kid.

SA: Okay, sir, what toppings would you like?

Garnett: (loudly claps hands together and is suddenly animated; begins bouncing on balls of feet) Alright, here we go now! Lettuce!


SA: Okay, lettuce.

Garnett: (bends over and slams palms down on floor) Yeah! You gotta put some green peppers on that, too!

SA: Green peppers. What else?

Garnett: (begins pacing back and forth along length of counter, nodding and clapping hands) Feel it, baby! Hot peppers!

SA: Hot peppers. Will that be all?

Garnett: (stops and turns abruptly; tilts head back and raises arms at sides) OLIVES, MOTHERFUCKER!


SA: What colour?

Garnett: (pulls jersey out with thumbs) GREEN!

SA: Green olives. Anything else?

Garnett: (breathing rapidly through nostrils) Nuh-uh.

SA: That will be seven dollars, please.

Garnett: (slams ten dollar bill on counter; snatches sub) Keep it! (stomps away, fixated on sub) You picked a bad time to be a meatball sub, meatball sub! A baaaaaad time to be a meatball sub…

SA: (shaking head) Next!



Image by Deux Huit Neuf

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