Nobody with that hair should bother
denying allegations of anything...ever.

Unofficial transcript of phone call made by Ex-CEO of the Orlando Magic, Bob Vander Weide, who allegedly drunk dialed Dwight Howard begging him to stay with the Magic:

"Dwight, listen, yes, I have had a couple of adult beverages, but don't take that to mean I am not fully behind the statements I am about to make. You are f***ing awesome, I'll admit that. Hell, I'll even admit that you're more man than I am. Alright, let's face it, you could crush me into a fine powder with little more than a nasty look.

"Look, you and I both know this team would suck a** without you. I mean, seriously, Stan [Van Gundy] already can't get the most out of our team...so what do you think he's going be able to do if-"

(sound of vomiting)

"I'm sorry about that, Dwight. Listen. You want me to get rid of Stan? Done. You name your coach, and I'll f***ing get him. I swear. I'll handcuff Phil Jackson to the bumper of my Mercedes and drag him to Orlando if that will make you-" BEEEEEEEP.

Call #2:

"Sorry Big D, the machine cut out on me. Don't be like your answering machine, Dwight! Don't quit on me, man. You're my Peyton Manning. Yeah, Jammy Nelson looks great on paper...so did Reggie Wayne, right? But that's only when they've got an anchor of greatness to - one sec (away from phone, to someone else) yes, vodka straight up, make it a double (back on phone) Where was I? Oh yeah, you're an anchor, dude. If only the Titanic had you, they wouldn't have run into that iceberg...ok, bad analogy, but seriously, man-" BEEEEEEEEP.

Call #3:

"Ok, last time, I swear. What about hookers? I can get you the finest women in the Orlando area, my friend. And I'm talking the good ones - disease free and fixed on the inside - no baby momma stuff to worry about. You feeling me, Dwight? Dude....bro....ok, that was a little racist. I would never presume to call you my bro. That was not cool, and I apologize for it. So anyway-" BEEEEEEP.

Call #4:

"That beep came quicker that time. Your machine must be getting full. That's why I'm calling again. I didn't get a chance to say what I really wanted to say. (pause)...If you leave, so help me God - expect it when you least expect it...you think Dan Gilbert made LeBron's life difficult in that last year? I swear, I'll-" BEEEEEP.

Call #5:

"Dwight (sniffle), I'm on a pay phone. My Blackberry died. Damn Crackberries, right? Ha. Listen, I just hope you didn't take what I just said as a threat or anything. I didn't mean it that way. What I really meant to say was I love you, man. (hiccup)...(recorded operator voice) Please insert 50 cents.

Call #6:

"OK, last call, I swear. I was going to ask you to be the Best Man at my son's wedding. I don't think he wants that but, you know what? F*** him. This is about what Dwight needs. (pause)...Dwight? Pick up. I'm going to kill myself if you don't pick up. No pressure...(long pause)" BEEEEEEP.

Call #7:

"I'm still alive. I just wanted you to know that in case you were feeling guilty or were worried you had nobody to negotiate the terms of your new contract with, I'm still here."

24 Hours later

"Hey D. I just wanted you to know that I'm stepping down as CEO. Did you tell somebody about my calls last night?"

FIN






Next week:
"Hi Chris...Can I call you that? Do you prefer Mr. Paul?"

Labels: Bob Vander Weide, drunk dialing, Dwight Howard