It's rare to discover a candid sports autobiography-- even rare when the author is one of the most recognizable athletes in the world. But in Shaq Talks Back, Shaquille O'Neal for the first time talks frankly about his childhood, his life, his rivalries, and his career, culminating in a dramatic, behind-the-scenes account of the Los Angeles Lakers' drive to the NBA Championship.
At seven feet one inch tall and 330 pounds, Shaq has always faced outsized expectations, even as a child when he towered over other kids. Shaq Talks Back is the story of how potential became reality-- how someone expected to be a champion finally learned to become one. Beginning with his memory of crying on the court after the Lakers defeated the Indiana Pacers, Shaq takes us back to his younger days in Newark and Jersey City, New Jersey, then to Georgia and finally to Germany, where he began to harness some of his height and strength.
From there, he recounts the remarkable progress of his basketball career, changing from a big but inexperienced teenager to a dominant college and professional player. Shaq talks about:
* Playing at Louisiana State University for the unpredictable coach Dale Brown
* Signing the biggest rookie contract ever with the Orlando Magic-- and going to the NBA Finals for the first time
* What happened next: dissention, disappointment, and his decision to leave for Los Angeles
* The dysfunctional Lakers who were never able to win the big games
* Dealing with egos as he finds the right chemistry with Kobe Bryant, Phil Jackson, and new additions to the team
* Rivalries with Alonzo Mourning, Patrick Ewing, Hakeem Olajuwon, David Robinson, and others
* The trouble with free throws...
* "Bling-bling" and women: the larger-than-life world of NBA players off the court
* Inside the Lakers' comeback from the brink against Portland and the drive to the NBA championship
Funny, insightful, opinionated, and unexpectedly moving, Shaq Talks Back is the true voice of the NBA's best player.
|Publisher:||St. Martin''s Publishing Group|
|File size:||447 KB|
About the Author
Shaquille O'Neal lives in Los Angeles. He is the center for the World Champion Los Angeles Lakers and was chosen as the Most Valuable Player in the NBA for the 1999-2000 season.
Read an Excerpt
FROM CHAPTER 1:
Why I Cried
And Why You Should Read My Book
The confetti was coming down. People were chanting, yelling, "MVP! MVP!" Then I saw David Stern, the commissioner, out of the corner of my eye. They were bringing out the shiny trophy, the big golden ball. It was all happening so fast. Everything ,l ever wanted in basketball was right there in front of me on June 19, 2000, the night I had been waiting for since I first picked up a ball as a fiveyearold in Newark, New Jersey.
After we beat the Indiana Pacers in the sixth game of the NBA Finals and the Los Angeles Lakers had won their first title in twelve yearsand I had won my first everI remember Kobe Bryant leaping into my arms for a few seconds. Then I remember finding my family and friends. I remember my mother sharing the moment with me, right in the middle of the Staples Center floor. So many of the people I grew up with, going crazy, trying to tackle me. My threeyearold daughter kissing her daddy.
It all got to me.
When you're T1" and weigh 330something, you're supposed to be big and strong. You are supposed to take whatever people dish out and keep your emotions to yourself. But I needed to let it out. I needed to show people how I was feeling.
Back in 1992, when I first came into the league, it seemed like everyone embraced me and showered me with praise. How great I was going to be. How much I was going to mean to the game. Besides dominating people on a lot of nights, I was the big man who actually had fun and liked being around people.
But somewhere between my rookie year and the beginning of the 19992000 season, I became this player who in a lot of people's eyes had not lived up tohis potential. I became this guy who everybody thought cared only about making movies and rap albums.
Never mind that I was putting up big numbers, playing more hurt than anyone knew, and trying to find the right chemistry with my coaches and teammates. Never mind that I was trying to learn how to be an NBA champion. No one wanted to hear about that. After we lost four straight games to the eventual 1999 champion San Antonio Spurs, everybody wanted to talk about what I couldn't do, how Kobe and Shaq still hadn't grown up yet.
Whenever we lost, it was my fault, no matter what I did. I could have a great, monster playoffs, score 29 a game. But if we didn't win, it was, "Y'all got swept and Shaq wasn't playing hard." Nothing was said about the guys who weren't playing defense and I had to play my man, play Robinson, play Tim Duncan and play all these other guys. Just, "Sorryass Shaq. Doesn't work hard. Can't hit free throws. Can't guard the pickandroll. Can't do this. If he would have stopped doing damn movies and stopped showing off his personal chef on the chef channel, maybe he could win."
OK, when you're the best player on the team, you have to learn to take that kind of criticism. Everything falls on your shoulders. That's the way it is. When you have the good life like I do and make the kind of money I do, I guess you should be immune to criticism. But I'm not lying: I had a hard time with it. The criticism hurt. It made me realize: In this world, whatever you do, it's never enough. And that's how I felt.
And so that's why I cried when I won my first championship.
I didn't cry because I was happy, I cried because I was mad. It wasn't a release. It was the wildness of my father trying to get out, but the calmness of my mother taking over.
Inside, I was like, "Damn everybody that said I couldn't do it, that said I didn't know how to win." A lot of people think I was probably happy. No, I wasn't happy. I was getting my revenge on the critics. All you people that said all this stuff, "Shag couldn't do this, Shaq couldn't do that." Well, I did it. I proved you wrong. Now what you gonna say?
That's why I cried.
No one knows the struggles I went through to be standing on the court after we beat the Pacers. Where I really came from. How I tried to learn how to mesh my game with young superstar teammates like Kobe and Penny Hardaway. How no one in America hardly knew my name after my junior year of high school. After all the HackaShaq defenses, where the object was to basically foul the hell out of me and physically rough me up so I had to shoot free throws. After the abdominal injury I suffered two years ago that almost ended my career. Everything was coming back to me, and I let it all out.
Don't worry. I'm not angry anymore. I let go of it that night. I want to have fun and enjoy the rest of my career, whether I play two more seasons or five or more.
But the fact is, there's a lot I want to get across in this book, things I haven't talked about before. And when you read it, you'll get to know a little bit more about me. There's a saying that goes, "Don't always believe what you see on TV." All the marketing surrounding me shows me playing mean, dunking, acting crazy. I'm not really like thatoff the court. I've been mostly corporate because that's the politically correct thing to do. My agent, Leonard Armato, has been projecting and protecting my image ever since I've been in the league. He has done a great job. And I,would never secondguess him. But there's a part of me that doesn't feel like I've said the things I've really wanted to sayabout myself, different players, teammates, coaches and the NBA in general. I've held my tongue a lot over the eight years 'cause it's the diplomatic thing to do. But like that other commercial says, image is reality. And while I hope people see that I'm a nice, genuine person who loves children, who loves being nice to people, at the same time, I'm going to be voicing my opinion on certain issues, and it might not make me the most popular guy on the block.
All I can say is, I'm not trying to embarrass nobody.
I signed a contract extension worth $88.5 million before this season, which means I've got $152 million coming to me over the next seven years. I didn't do this book for money. I did it because I have something to say about my life and my career.
Living the NBA lifestyle is something most people can't possibly imagine. In these pages, I'm gonna try to bring that life home to you. All the stuff I'm talking about is legitimate. Nothing here is made up. This is what I see and how I see it.
Will this book be upsetting to some players in the league? Maybe. But just because I give my opinion on someone based on the time I played with or against him doesn't mean I don't like that person. My opinion can change just like people change over their careers.
Will this book be upsetting to some fans? I'm sure that adults can handle it, but I don't think the whole thing is suitable for children. I'll be honest, there's some cursing in here. Hey, I'm a grown man. I curse every now and then. If we, as parents, teach our children to be leaders and not followers, then they should grow up and be able to handle a few curse words. I want kids to be able to see people make a mistake and say, "You know what, I can't do that."
I k ©w people look up to me as a role model, and I have no problem with that. But I would rather be known as a "real model," someone with flaws and weaknesses, like everyone else.
One more thing. The first championship was just to get people off my back.
This next one? It's gonna be for me.
Where I Came From and How I
Got So Damn Big
I had to stop trickortreating when I was eleven years old. I was about 6'4" and when I would go to the door, people would just stand there, looking at me with their eyes wide open.
"You too big to be trickortreating, ain't you?" they would say.
By then, I had gotten used to people either making fun of my height or not believing me when I told them my age.
Already, I was scoring 40 and 50 points in youthleague games, and the other parents were just going crazy. "Damn it, he's not ten," they would say. "I want to see his birth certificate right now."
My mother could tell even more embarrassing stories, but I think the Halloween one hurt the most. It meant I could no longer dress up as Shaquandaeither this sexy girl or a grandma, depending on my mood. Most times it was a grandma, but for a few years, I would put on a wig and ugly lipstick, pretend I had these gigantic breasts. I already had this big ole ghetto booty. Even as a kid, I was a comedian. It was a good way to hide my insecurities about being so big.
I was born in Newark, New Jersey, on March 6, 1972, to Lucille Harrison, the most loyal and loving and sacrificing mother anyone could ever know. I'm biased, sure, but you have to know where the story begins.
My mother's family was from Dublin, Georgia. My greatgrandmother, Cillar O'Neal, got married in 1930 at the age of 15 to my greatgrandfather, Hilton O'Neal, who was a farmer.
How do I get to be T1"? I never met Hilton O'Neal but I was told he was 6'8" or 6'9" tall.
My grandpa Johnny, on the other side of the family, was a farmer, too. He was also about 6'9". My mother's father, Sirlester, is about 6'4" or 6'5".
Cillar, or "Muma" as we call my greatgrandmother, grew up in a much different world than I ever knew. Her father killed himself at the age of fortyfive, supposedly over another woman. Muma grew up on a farm in Dublin. She picked cotton and pulled corn as a young woman. In those times, she'll tell you straightup: white folks didn't associate with black people. Hilton, her husband, passed away in 1965. She never remarried. Muma is eightythree and going strong today in Newark. She can still cook up a storm of Southern food, from blackeyed peas, to collard greens, corn bread, and any kind of pie you can imagine.
Anyway, she gave birth to three children: Reba Mae, Ruby Lee, and my grandfather, Sirlester O'Neal, father of my mother, Lucille. Sirlester married my late grandmother, Odessa Chambliss, who ,passed away on April 2, 1996, after a long bout with cancer.
Grandma Odessa was, and is, one of the biggest inspirations in my life. Muma always said my grandmother respected her and was one of the kindest women in the world.
One of the mosttold stories about me growing up is about Muma and my dad. When I was about three years old and my father was trying to make me hard and not be a baby, Muma used to sneak me a milk bottle at bedtime. She had a little stash of them for me hid in her bedroom. So one time my father snatched me and snatched the bottle and started yelling at me.
"Leave that boy alone!" Muma said. And then she took her shoe and hit him in his head. Just popped him, right in the head.
Yeah, Muma was tough. Still is.
I had a pretty interesting childhood. You could label me from the 'hood, or you could label me an army brat. Either way, you'd be right. I don't remember much from ages zero to two. However, when I got to the age of five and my brothers and sisters were Harrisons and my last name was O'Neal, I asked my mother how come my last name was different. My mother explained to me that she used to date a guy named Joe Toney, who had been a basketball player. He was my biological father.
Joe Toney had been a student at Seton Hall University, who got caught up with the wrong crowd. Since my mom and Joe were never married, she gave me her last name, O'Neal. For our sakes, she left him alone. And so for those first two years, it was just me and my mother.
My mother used to drop me off at a daycare center. She worked at City Hall.
One day she met this guy while she was walking down a streeta nice, cleancut gentleman who had two kids of his own named Philip Harrison. He was a college student and an allaround good guy. He addressed her, began to make conversation. They were . . . blase, blase for a number of months. OK, they fell in love, got married and he joined the army.
When I was five, we moved to Bayonne, New Jersey. That's where my father really began disciplining me. He spanked me. He made me hard. He made me a man from day one. I'll admit, I was a little soft as a childand very spoiled.
It was hard coming up, but he taught me and my brothers and sisters not to worry about materialistic items. At times he couldn't pay the rent. At night he would have to go to a UHaul trucking job. Some nights, I've seen him not even sleep.
We were often short on money. Mom was working; he was working. But I don't think they cleared $30,000 a year back then. He also had two daughters from another relationship that he had to take care of. At night, he would drive UHaul trucks to New York, New Jersey to deliver things, and then come back. I could see he was a hard worker and he was responsible for his family.
He also taught me how to play every sport. Baseball. Basketball. How to go out there and just have fun and play. Muma always said I was born to play ball, that I was always running around with a football or basketball. My first love was football, but I couldn't catch; I was scared of the ball.
"Don't catch the ball when I throw it," Dad told me one time. Then he threw it, and the ball hit me in the face.
He said, "You see that? That's the worst thing it can do to you. It's gonna hurt for a second, but it ain't gonna hurt bad. Don't be scared of the ball."
To this day, I believe that's why I have good hands.
As I grew older, I started to wonder about my biological father. My mother took me to meet Joe Toney in Newark when I was about nine or ten years old. I think she just wanted me to see him, how he was.
I remember he lived in a little apartment. Didn't have much. We didn't really go into how long he went to jail. He just told me he went to Seton Hall and got caught up in things. After that visit, I never asked to see him again. Phil was the one who took care of me. He was the only father I knew.
The next time I saw Joe Toney's face was about six years ago. I was playing on a team representing the United States 'in the World Championships in 1994. One day, walking down the street in Chicago, this guy said to me, "You need to talk to your dad. I saw him on the Ricki Lake show."
Phil does a lot of crazy stuff, so I called Mom. "What did Daddy do now?"
She said, "It ain't him, it's Joe Toney. He got on TV."
He was on the show with his little son. "I just want to meet my brother, I love my brother. I just want to get to meet him," the kid said
Then Joe came on and said, "Yeah, Shaquille is my son. I just want to let him know that I miss him."
We later found out that he was living in Jersey City, New Jersey. My halfbrother told me that's why he tried to contact me.
It seemed like there were always reminders of him. I met this guy
in Las Vegas one time who came up to me and said, "Yo, I'm your brother."
I thought he meant he was my fraternity brother. "No," he said. "Joe Toney's my father."
He showed me his picture. He pulled me off to the side and said, "I know what he was trying to do because he never tried to contact me ever. He never said nothing to me. So I know why he tried to contact you."
I just want to
He said, "I'm your brother, I don't want nothing. let you know we got the same father." .
I met this other kid in Newark one time. Same thing. "Joe Toney's my father."
Somebody asked me if I hate him. No, I don't hate him. I'm just going straight. My path was selected. I was tutored by Phil. I'm going that way. I have no desire to see him again.
Table of Contents
|1||Why I Cried (And Why You Should Read My Book)||1|
|2||Where I Came From and How I Got So Damn Big||5|
|3||Almost Magic, Almost a Title||40|
|4||Growing Pains (Why the Old Lakers Couldn't Win the Big One)||57|
|5||Summit Meeting (How That Zen Cat Kicked Our Be-Hinds and Made Us See What We Wanted)||74|
|Time Out Free Throws: My Kryptonite||86|
|6||The Big Little Brother (Or How Kobe and I Learned to Swim Instead of Sink)||91|
|7||Dead Presidents and Free Agents||104|
|Time Out My Sister||123|
|8||To Live and Strive in L.A. (and the NBA)||127|
|Glossary Shaq Speak: A Shaq-to-English Translation for Those Not Schooled in the Language of Homeboy||163|
|9||Nuthin' but Actors; Around the NBA||165|
|Time Out The Original Shaq Daddy||186|
|10||The 1999-2000 Regular Season (Or, When We Learned How Good We Could Be)||190|
|Time Out Shaqfari||251|