Hello there! My name is “Billy” Kupchak altho I’m not really “Billy” because my dad doesn’t want me to use my real name in case people want to find out who I really am. I am not also allowed to tell you how old I am because my dad said so and there are lots of people that could use that information to do bad things. My dad is the NBA General Manager of the Los Angeles Lakers which means he gets to pick who plays and who does not and who coaches who plays. It is a hard job! It is hard because there are lots of people in Los Angeles that like the Los Angeles Lakers because they are a winning team except the team is not winning as much as they used to. It is also very hard because there are lots of people in Los Angeles and other places that think my dad is not doing a very good job. But I think my dad is doing a great job and I do not think people that don’t like my dad know what they are talking about! And I’m going to tell you why!

For one my dad has the best player in the NBA on his team Kobe Bryant. Kobe is a great player! He is great because he scores lots of points and he gives the team a chance to win every night out. He also makes lots of moves that get him to the stripe and the bucket a lot. I saw Kobe make a move during the All-Star Game that was really sick! He dribbled between two people behind his back and drained a jumper from way down town! It was awesome! Kobe Bryant also scored the 2nd most points in the history of basketball with 81. With moves like that I can see why! He can take on the entire team by himself! Kobe did this against the Toronto Raptors in a game the Lakers had to win because they were down on their luck and needed to win. If Kobe Bryant did not score those 81 points the Lakers would have lost by a lot. People complain about Kobe because he likes to score points but you win games by scoring points so I think Kobe is doing the right thing! Also Kobe introduced me to Nutella which is like chocolate peanut butter but it is made from nuts that are not peanuts which is awesome!

Anyway I think the problem with the Lakers is that they need more scoring. I was eating dinner with my dad a while ago and I said “Dad, I think the Lakers need someone to help Kobe with scoring” and my dad said “I know but you have to give up stars to get stars” and I think that is really really true. Stars can help you score points but you need to trade stars to get stars and if the Lakers had stars then they could trade for some but they do not have any which is why they need Kobe to score so much! I think Kobe is getting really mad about it too! Look at these pictures! They are very intense! I think Kobe means it!

On another hand sometimes stars are made not born. I looked at the stats for Kobe when he was just starting out in the NBA and he used to not score a lot of points! He used to score as many as Lamar Odom does! But now he is a superstar and scores lots of points. So maybe Phil Jackson the Lakers coach and Mrs. Buss’ husband should let other people have a chance to become stars by scoring lots of points. I think one guy that could help a lot would be Smush Parker. He has a great basketball name and every time he scores the announcer can say SMUSH which is fun. I think Von Wafer is also a good basketball name and maybe he should play more too. They should play together and be WAFER SMUSH which is sort of like SHOW TIME but more fun!

One guy I think the Lakers should not play is Luke Walton because his dad is Bill Walton and I do not like him. I think Bill Walton is stupid because he likes to yell a lot about things. I saw one game on TV where Bill Walton was talking about Mozart and the Phoenix Suns and I do not know what he was talking about because Mozart never played basketball. A basketball person on TV should talk about basketball not Mozart because no one knows who Mozart is and it makes Bill Walton sound stupid when he talks about things no one knows about. Also Bill Walton has goofy horse teeth and sounds like a horse when he talks especially when he talks about Lebron James or championchip basketball. He is no Chick Hearn that is for sure. Chick Hearn was a living legend until he died and I hope he is happy in Basketball Heaven.

I wonder if Kobe misses Shaq. I miss Shaq. My dad told me that Shaq had to go to Basketball Heaven because his work here was done. I guess Basketball Heaven is in Miami though because that is where Shaq plays! Dad doesn’t know that I know that Shaq is in Miami though. I miss Shaq dunking the ball. He could dunk really hard! However Shaq could not hit his free throws which was tough sometimes because shooting free throws is fundamental and it is hard to leave points on the board I heard. Though if the points were on the board then how are they being left there by missing freethrows? See? Basketball is a hard sport!

Anyway I think that the Lakers should make a trade to get a superstar (like Franchise Steve “Stevie” Francis!) but they can also go with what brought them to the dance and maybe find new stars where they have none. I think any team with Kobe Bryant is a team to be afraid of and I can’t wait for the end of the season when the Lakers can win some more games and maybe go into the playoffs! This is “Billy” Kupchak saying “Go Lakers”! Go Lakers!

“Billy” Kupchak is the son of Lakers GM Mitch Kupchak and Billy’s classmates sometimes call his dad Bitch Cupcake because sometimes he makes bad trades and stuff but “Billy” doesn’t agree because his dad’s name isn’t Bitch Cupcake. It’s Mitch Kupchak.

Ah, for those days when smiling was an old hat I liked to wear. Right now, I am besides a hard place and a resignation that grows even harder the more I sit on it. What I have resigned, for at least one more year of calendars, is my future as a full-time player in the Major Leagues. It is a devil-may-care bargain that struck me., a fuel smoldering me with the fear that, when I expect the least to happen, it will fire back . But I will let someone else’s words enter my mouth, in the person of Mr. Joe Sheehan:

It’s established by now that the baseball industry simply doesn’t like Hee Seop Choi, who has been defined by what he cannot do rather than what he can by two organizations, and who hasn’t been given a fair shake outside of a half-season in Florida in 2004. Even in a difficult 2005 season, however, Choi put up a line of .253/.336/.453, good for a .274 EqA in Dodger Stadium. At worst an average defensive first baseman, and heading into his age-27 season, it seems certain that he would be a better choice than [Nomar] Garciaparra in 2005.

Let’s make this clear: the Dodgers are replacing Choi with a player Choi out-hit last season (and posted comparable numbers to in 2004), a player who’s likely going to be inferior defensively, who will cost more money, and carry a greater risk of injury and decline. They’re getting a more famous person in the deal, one whose aggressive approach at the plate may play better than Choi’s disciplined one, but whose edges are all stylistic.

Truth like this is hard to come by, and even harder for some to swallow, let alone keep down. Faced with these opinionated facts, I ask myself questions that I imagine might not have been asked by the newest front office personage in the Dodger staff, would they even bother thinking about such questions. Did Mr. Colletti ask if I, indeed, could handle the job that I have handled from time to time for the past 2 years, and handled as well as I was allowed? Did Mr. Colletti ask if I was malignantly deposed by Mr. Jim Tracy, despite Mr. DePodesta’s supposed faith in me, because of the former’s faith in his own sense of righting wrongs and the former’s lack of faith in the latter’s mathematical regimentation? Did Mr. Colletti ask why I, a young player with a fair record of success and nearing my peak physical height, have not been given the chance to buffer my credentials with fuller statistical proof of my potential largess? Or did he deign to question that I clearly have voiced my displeasure with pinch-hitting, the role that has been left stale for me, through my lack of hitting in the pinches I have squeezed through? I fear the answers to such questioning will only raise more questions that will never be answered correctly. I only wish Mr. Sheehan could put his mouth where Mr. McCourt hides his money, so that I may be of some use to some team that needs something more than what they have.

My only hope for the year to come, regarding my current affair, is that Mr. Garciaparra – he of the charming smile, the spry groin, and a boot-like nose as well – will follow the suit he has worn these past two years, which is why my resignation with the Dodgers for the following year seemed not inappropriately hopeful. But then I imagine Mr. Grady Little – a seemly clone of Mr. Tracy, without the faint whiff of erudition that his precedesor exhumed – will follow in his predecessor’s ill-fit suit, and play anyone that was born in the United States’ continent before chancing upon a foreign body that is partially unknown due only to circumstantial evidence. After all, this is a man whose ability to pull triggers slowly lead the darned Boston Red Sox down the road of crow they have eaten all too often. No doubt any trigger attached to a pen that writes my name in Dodger blue shall remain holstered, even after the final shot has rung my bell.

What is maddening me more is to see other teams fill the land around my corner of the diamond with low grade dirt. Those Red Sox are supposedly hunting for J.T. Snow with snipe and water pistols. I think of shuddering to think how the Giants will replace Snow’s irreplacable mediocrity. Given they believe Matt Morris to be holding aces in his tattered arm, and are paying Mike Matheney to catch outs with his bat, mindless boggling will undoubtedly ensue. The dethroned Kansas City team has given their franchise to a first basename whose most desirable quality is the business end he gives to his jersey tailors. A former team of mine, quickly returning to the dust they once sucked, have finally rejected the barbaric flailings of Jeff Conine, though they have been expectorating any warm form that has any taint of professionalism on their person. One hopes (if one is Jeffrey Loria) that this Mr. Jason Stokes fans whatever dying embers remain on the scorched earth in Pro Player Stadium. And their foul fish friends floundering in Tampa Bay are once again choosing a glove and tall drink of water over ability to set fire to the wood they try to swing. If that team’s Travis Lee truly proves to be more than a belly itcher, then I will gladly pitch myself out of my own league.

This would be the piece of dialogue where I cry to be free, but everything has its price. To dismay me, my sticker seems to be too daunting for any team to pay or play, except for the one team willing to pay without play. Still, my chance for love of this sport remains high, as long as I am able to lace up my gumption and keep both feet reaching for the extra base. I hope your chances are equally lofty this seasonal holiday. I have come a long way to find myself in the same place I began, though I have traveled a great deal, and have many more steps to take for granted. And I am glad that you, dear unknown reader, have taken advantage of my trial misfortune, for the both of us. Remember – this story has yet to find an ending, and there are many more stories that need someone to tell them, so until the book is closed on me once and for all, I will write you off this year. Until then!