If You're Looking To Get Coddled, Don't Go See The Miami Heat Trainer

I love this guy. Fucking love him. I know nothing about him other than the fact that he doesn’t give a goddamn about his patrients feeling pain, but he’s officially on my favorite NBA trainers ever (Bryan Doo is still atop the list, but he’s being threatened. Though I suspect this guy is more of a doctor than a trainer. Doo specialized in stretching hammys, don’t recall him ever popping fingers back in joints).

Anyway, this is why you always need to have nerdy doctors, so you get a little sympathy. Even before I saw this gentlemen stroll away as if he was in an action movie and had just blown up a house, I knew he was not to be trifled with. The hair, the goatee, the all black ensemble, the broad shoulders, it’s all clear: he’s tough. Take one look at him and you know he’s probably the on-call doctor for Cuban drug dealers and was pulling a slug out of a smuggler at the Port of Miami 15 minutes before tip-off. In Nam he reattached his own arm after it was blown off during Khe Sanh. Is any of that true? Probably. You can just sense it. That’s not the kind of guy who’s gonna give you sympathy because you dislocated your finger. Suck it up and get back in the game, sissy boy.