I don't know what's going on anymore. For the first time in my life, I feel too important. I can't buy a car without someone calling out my name or screaming, "GREAT JOB" or "YOU SUCK" or some combination of the two. Every time I touch the rock in a game, I feel the whole world watching me, staring at me like I'm some performer on The Voice. Each time I release for a three, a small part of me hopes that it won't go in so that LeBron won't pass me the ball next time, so that Wade won't mention my name in the next huddle, and so that Bosh won't touch my head on the way to the locker room.
I want to be me again. I want to be Mike Bibby, the guy that plays with Garage Band for a day and no one even notices isn't at practice. I can't remember the last time I made a techno remix, or washed my cat, or bought socks, or cleaned out my DVR, or microwaved dinner, or used Google. I straight up don't have the time anymore and that bothers me. And when I go to practice, no one wants to joke around, because everyone is so 'focused' on winning this ring.
|I'm talking to him about cloning, and he's not even listening.|
Today, I went to a local hotdog vendor and ordered my usual: six hot dogs with mustard, barbeque sauce and no buns. As the vendor poured the mustard on, I realized that he was seriously overdoing it and muttered, "Whoa. That's a bit too much mustard on there." The vendor, instead of apologizing, wrapping six new hotdogs in tin foil and starting over, actually looked at me and said, "Yeah well there's a little too much mustard on those threes you're putting up." And that was that; I was left eating mustard soup on the way to the aquarium.
To make matters worse, I opened up my email to find THIS from the crazies over at NBA.com:
This is seriously getting out of hand. I recognize that I'm the main facilitator for The Heat, but I simply do not want this kind of attention anymore. What happened with the hotdog vendor this morning is a perfect allegory for my life right now: There's just a little too much mustard on it. I never thought there'd be such a thing as too much mustard and too much fame, but as the old saying goes: "Don't count your chickens while they're still on the other side of the road."
I look forward to the day when I can go back to my normal life. And I'm not sure if winning a title will make things better or worse. All I know is that the other day, I woke up in a cold sweat and my wife turned to me and said, "Bibby, what's wrong?" And I said, "I just realized... You can get a ring at a lot of places." All this time, I've held the belief that the NBA Finals was the only place you could get that kind of jewelry. But I was wrong. I've been going at this ring quest so hard that I didn't realize the obvious solution is at Kays Jewelers. And so, like everything else, it appears that I put just a little too much mustard on this one.