Michael Rapaport - This Book Has Balls: Sports Rants from the MVP of Talking Trash

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Touchstone

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Copyright 2017 by Michael Rapaport

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Touchstone Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Touchstone hardcover edition October 2017

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Interior design by Kyle Kabel

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN 978-1-5011-6031-8

ISBN 978-1-5011-6033-2 (ebook)

Mom and Dad: Thank you for never squashing my dreams of being a professional athlete, although Im sure you were well aware that it was far out of my reach from inception. I never think in limits because of you both.

Kebe: My love. Nobody would really understand or grasp how many snorts, smells, and quirks you put up with being my wife, best friend, and biggest supporter. Youre everything to me, and Im lucky to call you Wifey.

Hip-Hop: Anything I do, say, or create is inspired by hip-hop. I didnt talk much about you specifically in this book, but without you, hip-hop, and your influence on me, Im just a plain-Jane cornball. Thank you for inspiring me, teaching me, and keeping me safe since 1979.

M y first meeting with Michael Rapaport was offensive, disruptive, and honestly felt dangerous. He started telling me his thoughts about the book but then sneezed repeatedly and got up from the table without saying a word. He then came back a half hour later acting as if he had never left. I asked him what was wrong, and he told me he was allergic to my cologne and would I please leave immediately. I told him I didnt wear cologne, and he called me a liar and then he left the restaurant himself, leaving me both stunned and more than slightly concerned. I didnt know if I had just been fired, but apparently not, since Michael set up our next meeting at a local coffee shop. Within minutes of sitting down, Michael was tossed out and banned from the shop for insulting a guy who kept talking loudly with a British accent. Michael claimed the guy was faking the accent and there was no reason he had to talk that loud, then he threw a used napkin at him. I told him some people just speak that way, and then he shunned me and asked me to pay for his Uber home. I paid for the Uber, but when I received my Uber receipt, I realized he had taken an extra thirteen-mile trip to see a friend in Malibu. I was having serious doubts about whether we could work together.

Finally, I regrouped, and we met up at a new restaurant to work, and he seemed fine, but when I asked him about growing up in New York, he thought I was accusing him of lying about his upbringing and he left once again, this time leaving me with the entire bill. It wasnt until two weeks into the writing process that Michael and I actually sat down and got to work. By this time, we were getting along, but he had an issue with the chef at the place we were meeting. Michael said he was an anti-Semite because he kept sending out his toasted bagel cold. I told him it was an honest mistake, but Michael stormed out again, but not before yelling loudly into the kitchen something about the Nazi party. We were one chapter into the book at this time, so I was extremely worried. Finally, I figured it would be a much better working relationship if we did things through email and phone calls, and he agreed.

The first phone call did not go as planned. He said we were going to discuss his point of view on the new breed of basketball players, and by the time I had my notebook out, I heard sirens in the background and Michael was being told by the police that he had to stop letting his dog loose in the neighborhood without a leash or he would be placed under arrest. I knew then that this entire book would never get done if we tried the traditional writer/editor route of meeting, discussing, and reworking the material that I was used to. I had a volatile situation on my hands.

I tried calling his manager and couldnt get through for three days. When I got through, his manager told me this was part of Michaels charm and then he hung up the phone. I was beside myself for a month. Once again, we attempted to find a rhythm and actually dove into these chapters, and I felt we might be home free, until Michael told a waiter in skinny jeans that he had no business wearing that style of jeans, and if he brought him his soup wearing the same jeans, we were leaving without paying the bill. Again, the police were called.

I kept thinking to myself, how the hell does this respected working actor continue to thrive in society and function as an adult behaving this way? During one breakfast I asked him a question about his supposed athletic prowess on the court, and he took his shirt off in the middle of the restaurant and accused me of fat shaming. Id never been through something like this before, but Im a professional and love to challenge myself, so we met the following Monday at a well-known lunch spot in Hollywood.

When I got there, Michael was fighting with the manager because the manager had accused him of stealing panini sandwiches while standing in line. Michael said he planned to pay but was sick of waiting while Hollywood types took too long to order. The manager said he was three paninis in before he got to the register, and then ordered and never mentioned the paninis to the cashier. When I told Michael that it sounded like he was actually stealing, he left me at the restaurant alone and sent me an email telling me we would go back to communicating without seeing each other and chastised me for not using a proper facial cleaning astringent. He said my eyebrows were flaking and it disturb his thought process.

This kind of collaboration was certainly new to me, but we eventually found a system that worked for both of us. He would write alone and send me the material, then I would edit it and send it back, and he would complement me, offend me, and then hang up abruptly. This experience raised my already high blood pressure to a semi-dangerous level, but I realized that his disruptive behavior was part of his art and I had to adapt. Id been working for too many years with professional adults and would have to readjust my style. I had to start thinking like a first-grade teacher trying to wrangle a class of unruly kids.