Shaq Uncut: My Story (15 page)

It didn’t help that I broke my thumb and missed the first two months of the 1995–96 season. It happened in an exhibition game against Miami. Matt Geiger
karate-chopped me. I said, “I blame [Coach Pat] Riley for my broken thumb, not Matt Geiger. That ain’t defense Miami is playing. That’s just chopping. I have no idea how his team gets away with it. I guess when you’ve been in the league thirty years you can do it. Respect—Riley gets it—he’s like John Gotti.”

Horace was hurt that year, too. We were winning, but the chemistry had changed.

Whenever
we went to New York to play the Knicks or the Nets I always went by to see my grandmother Odessa. I was looking forward to seeing her because every time I called for her, she wasn’t around. I should have known, looking back, that something was wrong. She was sick, dying of cancer, but nobody was going to tell me that in the middle of my NBA season. All I knew was Grandma wasn’t feeling well and
was tired a lot.

When I showed up to see her it was obvious she was in her final days. We were playing the Knicks on April 3, and I got there on April 2. She was very frail. I think she was waiting on me. I held her hand, talked to her awhile, and then she said, “You want to fight me?” After that she closed her eyes. She slipped into a coma later that night.

I went back to see her the next afternoon
around two and the nurse there said, “She’s going to die at eight o’clock.” I’m ticked off at this lady and I say, “Well, if you think that, you better get somebody over here. I have money. Call whoever you need. Money is no object.”

This nurse just said, “No, it’s too late. She’s going to die at eight o’clock.”

I swear to God, my grandmother Odessa died at eight o’clock on the dot, right in
her home, in her own bedroom. I don’t know how that lady knew, but she did. My cousins and I were all sitting with my grandma. When she left us, we all started crying. My cousin Brian started kicking tables, breaking things. My mother was there, so I had to man up and take care of her. I was hurting, but I had to console my mother.

We called the nurse, and they came and they put my grandmother
in a bag and they zipped it up, and we all lost it again. I had to carry her outside and put her in the van. Hardest thing I’ve ever done.

I was sitting with my grandmother, watching her die, while my teammates were beating the Knicks. They went back home and played the Celtics the next night, on a Thursday, but obviously I stayed behind.

My plan was to take the week off. My grandmother’s death
hit me hard, and I was in no shape to play basketball.

Her funeral was beautiful but very sad. Grandmother Odessa had planned it all herself, right down to the flowers and the music. I tried to hold it together, but I couldn’t. I was so mad she was gone I took it out on the church door. I hauled off and punched a hole right through it. I was lucky I didn’t break my hand.

Our team was playing
a nationally televised game that Sunday against Mike and the Bulls, so that Saturday Brian Hill told reporters, “I don’t know where Shaq is, so if he comes, he’s not going to play.”

I had gone to Atlanta right after the funeral, because I didn’t want to be around anybody. Dennis Scott was the only one who knew where I was. He called me and said, “Yo, man, they’re looking for you.” I said, “Why
are they looking for me?” He told me what was going on. I was ticked off. Why were they acting like they had no idea what was going on in my life? I woke up Sunday, chartered a
plane, got there in the second quarter and played 33 minutes. I had 21 points and 9 rebounds, but we lost.

I called Brian Hill on his bluff. I knew if I showed up he’d play me. I don’t know why he disrespected me like
that in the papers when I was dealing with something so personal and so serious. It’s not like I was on vacation. I was grieving. I had lost one of the most important people in my life. To be honest with you, I think that was when my relationship with the Magic started breaking down.

They knew how much my grandmother meant to me. It was the first time someone so close to me had died, and I was
struggling with it. She was such a special woman. I was always trying to do something nice for her, but she never wanted it. I’d tell her, “Grandma, I’ve got a nice mansion picked out for you, right next door to Eddie Murphy.” She’d just say, “Nope.” I’d say, “Grandma, stop working. I’ll take care of you.” She’d say, “Nope.”

We started a foundation in her memory. It’s called the Odessa Chambliss
Quality of Life fund, and it helps nursing students further their education. You should think about making a donation. (That’s what we in the business world call “cross-promoting.”)

Both Penny and I had a good year in 1995–96, but we got swept in the playoffs by that Chicago Bulls team that went 72-10 and will probably go down as one of the best teams ever.

Now my contract is up, and that’s
when I learn there is no loyalty in this game. None whatsoever. Zero.

You just have to develop a thick skin and accept it. I knew there was no loyalty when I watched Patrick Ewing get traded, and Dominique Wilkins, too. Even Michael Jordan switched teams. Ewing made the Knicks. ’Nique made the Hawks. Jordan made the Bulls. I know they were at the end of their careers and they thought it would
be best for them to go somewhere else, but it should never come to that.

I wanted to stay in Orlando. Leonard wanted me in Los Angeles because of Hollywood and all the opportunities, but also because he knew right away Orlando wasn’t going to pay me.

I was naive, I guess. I didn’t really believe that. I loved the DeVos family. They were great people. I think it was John Gabriel’s call. He started
low, too low. And we probably started too high. I was saying I wanted $150 million, but everyone knew I wasn’t serious.

The Magic offered me seven years at $69 million. Leonard had already started talking to me about $100 million because he thought I could be the first guy to get that kind of money. It sounded like a lot to me, but I was the best young player in the game at that time and I figured,
Why not me?

Back then, after your first contract expired, you became a free agent. You could sign with anybody. But right after I left Orlando they changed the rules. Now after your first contract you are what they call a “restricted” free agent, which means the team that drafted you can match any offer. That wasn’t true in my case.

We were keeping an eye on the other free agents in the league.
Leonard called me up and told me Juwan Howard had signed for $105 and Alonzo Mourning had signed for $110 million.

Now the market was set. Orlando
had
to pay me $100 million. In fact, we asked for $115 million. But they wouldn’t. They came back with four years, $80 million. I asked John Gabriel why they wouldn’t pay me what he knew I deserved and he said, “We don’t want to upset Penny. We can’t
pay you more than Penny.”

I couldn’t believe that. It was like they had punched me in the gut.

In the meantime, Jerry West, the general manager for the Lakers, is calling and telling us, “Listen, I know you deserve more than Juwan and Mourning, but right now all I can get you is $98 million.”

I was so glad to hear that I told Leonard, “Let’s take it. Let’s take the $98 million and get this
over with. I want to be somewhere where I’m wanted.”

Right about that time, the
Orlando Sentinel
came out with a poll. The first question they asked was “Is Shaquille O’Neal worth $115 million?” Ninety-one percent of the people said no. The other question they asked was “Should the Magic fire Brian Hill if that is Shaq’s condition for returning?” About 82 percent of the people said no to
that
one. I wasn’t calling for Brian Hill to be fired. I had my issues with him, but they had the wrong superstar. It was Penny who had issues with BHill, not me.

At the time the poll came out, I was playing for the 1996 Olympic team and we were training in Disney. I heard about that poll from all the fellas. Charles Barkley and Scottie Pippen were ragging on me. They were saying things like, “Your
own fans don’t want you.” I won’t lie to you—it was embarrassing.

My mother was very upset by all the negative publicity. She called me up one day and said, “Are you being a little greedy, son?” I told her, “Nope, there are guys out there getting $100 million, and I’m better, so I need $120 million.” She said, “Well, okay, I won’t tell you how to do your business, but I was just wondering. That
sounds like so much money.”

She was looking at those numbers and she couldn’t make sense of it. Remember now, this is the same woman who wanted to put my stereo system on layaway.

Everyone else in Orlando was doing what my mother was doing. They were looking at all that money and saying, “The hell with Shaq. Nobody is worth that kind of money.”

They didn’t understand the business of the NBA.
Meanwhile, I was getting my own crash course on the economics of the league.

I’m ready to take $98 million from LA, but Jerry West calls back and he’s excited because he had just traded George Lynch and now he can give us seven years and $121 million. I loved Jerry West before, but now I loved him even
more
.

I was in Atlanta when all that news came down, because the Olympics were about to start.
By that point I just wanted it done. That poll bothered me. The fans seemed like they had turned on me. I had worked my ass off for that city, and this was how they repaid me?

At that point the Magic realized they had totally blown it, so they made a last-ditch effort to salvage the deal. John Gabriel and Bob Vander Weide hopped on a private plane to Atlanta. They went to see Leonard, who was
shagging volleyballs for USA star Holly McPeak.
He ended up marrying Holly, actually. John and Bob were in suits and ties, and Leonard was dressed in a pair of gym shorts.

They told Leonard they would match what the Lakers were offering. Leonard said thank you and sent them on their way, but it was too little too late. I hadn’t signed anything, but I had given Jerry West my word I was going to
play for the Lakers and I wasn’t going back on that.

Gabriel knew it was over. Bob Vander Weide said to him as they flew back to Orlando, “I thought that went well.” Gabriel answered, “Bob, we’ve lost him.”

When Jerry West flew into Atlanta with the contract, he was so nervous he was actually shaking. He was telling me, “We’re going to win a lot of championships. We’ve got you and I’ve got this
eighteen-year-old kid coming in. Wait until you see him. He’s going to be the best player in the game some day.”

I had met Kobe Bryant once in our locker room in Orlando, but I hadn’t really ever heard of him. To be honest, I was barely listening. I was thinking my usual Spooky Wook stuff, so I wanted to say to Jerry West, “Okay, can I just sign this in case something happens to me?” You know,
like the Unabomber or something. I just wanted it done.

So now the contract is signed and I’m the highest-paid player in the game, but I don’t say a word. I go to my Olympic practice and I’m looking around at Penny, who is now my former teammate but he doesn’t even know it, and I don’t say anything.

For one thing, I didn’t want to brag. We were training for the Olympics and talking every day
about being one team, not individuals. It just didn’t seem right to be puffing my chest out about my salary. Besides, I knew we were going to hold a press conference the following day.

We did it right in Atlanta. Penny was really pissed. I didn’t care. Penny wanted to be the highest-paid player on the Magic. Good luck with that, bro.

The reaction from Orlando was ugly. People were angry. They
felt betrayed, Well, join the club. That was how I felt, too.

I said some things they didn’t like. I called the city of Orlando a “dried-up pond.” Obviously I didn’t mean it. My entire family lives in Orlando, and it is where I live
today
. I was hurt and it just came out. I wish I could take that one back.

Of course a big salary like that was going to be big news. I was called greedy, a mercenary,
a traitor.

Reporters asked me about the contract. I told everybody, “I’m tired of hearing about money, money, money, money, money, I just want to play the game, drink Pepsi, and wear Reebok.”

But first I had to help the US win a gold medal in the Olympic Games. During the Olympics I had a few things going through my mind. The first was signing with the Lakers and knowing my whole life was about
to change. That was the most overwhelming feeling. It kind of overshadowed the Olympics for me, in a way, because there was so much going on and it was happening so fast and it was a little distracting.

There was never any doubt our 1996 US team was going to win the gold medal. We had Charles Barkley and Hakeem Olajuwon and Karl Malone and John Stockton and Reggie Miller. We were stacked. I knew
I wasn’t going to shine, but I was hoping to give the world a little peek at what I was all about.

I had some extra motivation heading into those Olympics. They called us “Dream Team II” because we were following the 1992 Dream Team, which had Mike and Magic and Larry and all those guys. I was the final cut of that team. It came down to me and Christian Laettner, and they gave it to him because
he had more international experience, whatever the hell that meant.

So now here it was, four years later, and I was starting to dominate in the NBA, and it was clear they’d made a mistake in 1992. They picked the wrong guy.

Our coach for the ’96 team was Lenny Wilkens, and early on he did a pretty good job of getting us all in there. We pretty much rolled over everybody. I remember Penny and
I took over in the quarterfinals against Brazil, and Charles and Reggie started dumping on
Penny, saying, “Shaq used to be your boy, but not anymore. He left you!”

Anyhow, we got to the gold medal game and we were playing Yugoslavia and Vlade Divac, one of the guys they traded away to make room for me in LA.

I was pretty revved up for the game. Having a military background, I was looking forward
to standing up there on the gold medal platform and hearing our national anthem being played. It was a moment I was really looking forward to. I knew my dad was going to be very proud of me.