This Book Has Balls Read online

  So, for my number two—and it irks me to give it up to this guy so early because I really don’t like him—I have to say I’m picking Michael Jordan. I hate that I’m giving it up to MJ so early, but I had to do it. Over 32,000 points lifetime, averaged over 30 a game for his entire career, and the jackass’s logo is still on everything, everywhere you look around the world. He took home six championships, he was a ten-time NBA scoring champion, the fucking guy never lost in the NBA Finals, and he scored 38 points with the flu and no chicken soup. So yeah, Mike, there ya go. You got the number two spot. Now go tell your friends you made my list.

  * * *

  Hold on, something just hit me. Michael Jordan was a two-sport athlete and wasn’t so great at one of them. Hold up. If I’m going to give it up for a two-sport athlete, I’m picking my man Bo “Motherfucking Run You Over Brian Bosworth Whenever I Feel Like It” Jackson. Sorry, Mike. Yeah, it happened fast. I’m giving my number two to Bo Jackson, and Jordan’s down at three and I don’t feel bad about it. So, Bo Jackson is coming in at number two. I don’t think I really need to hit you with stats on Bo Jackson; we all saw him break baseball bats over his knee. The man won the Heisman in college, ran over everyone in the pros and was a phenom in baseball where he was an all-star and an MVP. If you need to really check out what Bo did, go check his ESPN 30 for 30 and call me. We can talk.

  * * *

  So, we have Serena, Bo, and Michael. I like this list. The list is building nicely. Oh fuck, man, wait—how can I talk two-sport athletes when I forgot about the greatest three-sport athlete? Sorry, kids, I just remembered Handsome Jim Thorpe, arguably the finest athlete to ever live. A three-sport legend who’s still being talked about today, even though he was around before treadmills. He played pro football, pro baseball, and won the gold medal in the decathlon in the 1912 Olympics. The guy did everything. And if all this shit is relative, maybe he’s number one. No, I can’t go number one with Thorpe; sorry, Jimbo. He had the same body then that I have now. I can’t give number one to a guy who’s built like all my relatives. I’m keeping Serena in her place, even though Thorpe made a comeback in football when he was forty-one. When I was forty-one, I came back to the couch with ice cream and a blanket. I’ll put Thorpe at two and move Bo to three, and Jordan—bye-bye three and hello four.

  * * *

  So, we’ve got Serena Williams, Jim Thorpe, Bo Jackson, and Michael. Shit, man, I’m trying to stay on land sports, but I keep seeing Michael Phelps in my head. Twenty-three gold medals and broke a sixty-eight-year-old record? No, I’m staying on land before I lose control of my own list here. Balls, balls, balls. Yeah, sorry, Phelps, but you’ll be okay. Stop doing bong hits and get back on the Wheaties box. Number five is coming in hot. I know a lot of you are thinking Jim Brown, Walter Payton, Caitlyn/Bruce Jenner, or Insane Usain Bolt, but guess who’s coming to dinner?

  My man Muhammad Ali is coming in hot at number five. I have to do it. I can’t see this list being legitimate without Ali. He’s the greatest of all time, with the fastest hands ever seen on a heavyweight. There is no tougher sport on the planet, and he made it look effortless. I’m not doing the top five without the Champ. Muhammad, welcome to the list.

  So, we’ve got Serena, Thorpe, Bo, Michael, and Ali. That’s one hell of a list. Shit. Hold on, wait a minute. Something just hit me. If we’re talking about dominating a sport, I can’t go on without mentioning Canadian superhero Wayne Gretzky.

  How the hell am I supposed to have a “greatest athletes of all time” list without the Great One?! He set scoring records that will never be touched. Wayne’s got 894 regular-season goals alone. He shattered the assist record with 1,963 assists, and half of them were no-look passes. And this white-bread wonder boy with absolutely no lips had 2,857 lifetime points and fifty hat tricks! I could give two shits about hockey, but I think Wayne Gretzky needs to be here. Fuck me!

  Every time Great Wayne touched the puck, it went in. He was doing shit on skates no one could do on their feet. Shit, maybe I move Ali down to six, Wayne to five, and keep Jordan at four . . . Fuck that. I’m not moving Ali off this list. No way. I won’t do it, Champ. Right now, you’re tied at the five spot, and that’s where I’m keeping you. So, we have Serena, Bo, Jordan, Thorpe, Ali, and Wayne. But wait. That’s six. Hold up.

  Is baseball even a sport to consider a “greatest athlete” coming from, since you’re sitting around most of the time? What am I talking about? Sorry, of course it’s a real sport. They’re running, throwing, hitting that little-ass ball at a hundred miles an hour—yeah, it’s real. I might have to throw my road dawg George Herman “Babe” Ruth in there. The guy smoked cigars, stuffed his face with hot dogs and beer, and then went to the plate and knocked the shit out of the ball. He’s gotta go on the list. He’s Babe Ruth. I know he played when baseball wasn’t integrated, but the fact that he did what he did while being a chubby, unhealthy mess is a medical miracle. The guy had 714 home runs without steroids or diet. Now, this is very challenging. Am I sending mixed messages to children by putting a guy built like Santa Claus on the “best of the best” list? I hate to do it, but, Babe, you’re coming off. No hard feelings.

  Okay, okay, okay, here we go, I have this under control. Bo Jackson, my friend, you’re gonna take a little trip up to three. Muhammad Ali, my main man, you’ll be okay at four. And I’ll give Wayne and MJ a tie at five.

  5. Air Jordan and the Great One

  4. Ali

  3. Bo Jackson

  2. Big Jimmy Thorpe

  1. Serena

  I’m all fucked up. Why does Jim Brown keep popping into my head? You ever see Jim Brown highlights? That was a grown-ass man playing with boys. We gotta get Jim Brown in here. Wait! Was Bruce Lee an athlete? Why wouldn’t he be? Damn it! Leaping up and kicking apples off bad guys’ heads is real. What about Pelé? Fuck soccer. Wait. Do I bring LeBron in here? I don’t fucking want to bring him in. I’m not feeling that today, LeBron. Sorry, your ring-chasing nonsense is holding you off my list for now. Besides, you’re not just skipping past Kobe Bean Bryant on my watch. Is Walter Payton in the house? Who can I take off the list to make room for Sweetness? I’m losing my shit, man.

  You know what, folks? I’m sorry, make up your own list—I can’t do it. Lists are for groceries. There’s no fucking list . . . although, we could go top ten. Michael Rapaport’s Top Ten List? You know what, sports lovers? You’ll get that in the sequel. I’m fucking spent, and I’m sorry, folks. I’m all ranted out.

  Acknowledgments

  Mike Young, Mike Young, and Mike Young: Thank you for holding me down and guiding me through this book-writing process. You’re the real MVP of This Book Has Balls. You’re a great writer and a patient man. You kicked ass for me.

  Julian and Maceo.

  Eric Rapaport: My Big Smarter Brother.

  Gerald Moody: My Brownsville, Brooklyn, comrade since 1982.

  Everyone in Brownsville, Brooklyn, who held me down in the Eighties and Nineties Howard Projects.

  The BRC.

  Everybody in Harlem World for accepting me, no questions asked.

  The I Am Rapaport stereo podcast producers Miles and Jordan.

  My Young Shooter, Dean Collins.

  Bahr Brown, Jason Bergh, Michelle Lee: My Other Momma, Dean Moody.

  Mark Lonow, JoAnne Astrow, and Claudia Rapaport: You gave me my career and so much more. I’ll never forget it.

  Daniel Greenberg: THANK YOU SO MUCH for the foresight to imagine I had a book in me.

  Matthew Benjamin, the real editor of this book: THANK YOU for everything. Sincerely.

  My Top Twenty Favorite Athletes Who I Didn’t Mention in the Book But Should’ve.

  1. Jack Lambert (I dreamed of being you in ’81.)

  2. Latrell Sprewell (Needs no explanation.)

  3. Kenny Anderson (Best to ever do it.)

  4. Le’Veon Bell (My vessel into fantasy football.)

  5. Chris Mullin ( You deserved a whole chapter for real.)


  6. Mark Bavaro

  7. Joe Klecko and Mark Gastineau (NY Sack Exchange lives forever.)

  8. Reggie Jackson

  9. Apollo Creed

  10. Sugar Ray Leonard

  11. Iran Barkley from the Boogie Down Bronx

  12. Shaquille O’Neal

  13. Moses Malone

  14. Aaron Pryor

  15. George “the Iceman” Gervin

  16. The Fab Five

  17. The Boston Bruins who beat up the fans in Madison Square Garden: you sick fucks, you.

  18. Tim Hardaway

  19. Mahmoud Abdul Rauf, formerly known as Chris Jackson (Steph Curry before Steph Curry)

  20. Isiah Thomas (One of my favorites ever.)

  I apologize to the teachers, principals, and students of the ten schools I attended.

  About the Author

  © ROBERT SEBREEE

  Michael Rapaport is an actor and director who’s appeared on TV shows such as Friends, Justified, The War at Home, and Prison Break, and in films such as True Romance and Mighty Aphrodite. He directed the award-winning 2011 documentary Beats, Rhymes & Life: The Travels of a Tribe Called Quest and an ESPN 30 for 30 film, When the Garden Was Eden, that premiered in 2014. His Barstool Sports podcast, I Am Rapaport, has almost two million monthly listeners and regularly makes the iTunes top 50. He’s also a diehard Knicks fan. This Book Has Balls is his first book.

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  Index

  A note about the index: The pages referenced in this index refer to the page numbers in the print edition. Clicking on a page number will take you to the ebook location that corresponds to the beginning of that page in the print edition. For a comprehensive list of locations of any word or phrase, use your reading system’s search function.

  Albert, Motherfucking Marv, 138

  bad fucking news, 80

  Big-Nosed, Flat-Footed Fuck, 7

  Bob the Fuckin’ Clown, 81

  Bogues, Muggsy, five-foot-fucking-three, 109

  Brady, Tom Fucking, 67

  Chamberlain, Wilt, fuck game, 233–34

  Cobain, Kurt, fucked by Fabio, 258

  Coleman, Jack-Fucking-, 46

  Dean Cain’s hair, fucking amazing, 64

  DiCaprio, Leonardo Motherfucking, 235

  saving the fucking planet, 235

  fat fuck millionaire, 82

  flying fuck, 206

  fuck-boy move, 167

  Fuck Cross-Fit, 123

  Fuck Face, Larry, 8

  fuckface Trump, 224

  fuck nose, 118

  fuck pills, 222

  fuck standing up, 23

  fuck the world, 112

  fuck what you heard, 111

  fucked-up head, 198

  fucked-up helmet, 15

  fucked up in the head, 23

  fucked-up-looking building, 16

  fucked-up noises, 122

  fucked-up TV show, 223

  fucked you nice, 89

  fucked you twice, 89

  fuckin’ girl bully, 114

  fuckin’ hoop dreams, 114

  fuckin’ knot, shoulder, 116

  fuckin’ muscle, rub the, 116

  fuckin’ weirdo, 30

  fucking airball, 60

  fucking ballerina, 123

  fucking beach cruiser, 240

  fucking beauty, a thing of, 53

  Fucking Berry You, Matt I’m Gonna, 89

  fucking black book, 22

  fucking championship ring, 261

  fucking circus acrobat, 124

  fucking Color Me Badd Coke Street Rock, 17

  fucking dome piece, 145

  fucking doors, locked, 231

  fucking drain, down the, 74

  fucking edge, real, 81

  fucking garbage, 70

  fucking irony, 139

  fucking Iverson (Allen), 53

  fucking joke, 85, 139

  fucking Linsanity, 132

  fucking love you, Marv, 36

  fucking mad, bro, 67

  fucking mistake, 46

  fucking nerd, 89

  fucking pig wig, 39

  fucking preschool, 1

  fucking Raider Nation, 82

  fucking reasons, right, 79

  fucking retainer, 149

  fucking rope, climb the, 124

  fucking school, 1

  fucking second, one single, 13

  fucking shine box, 118, 218

  fucking sliver of manhood, 127

  fucking south, going, 221

  fucking statement, 56

  fucking stratospheric, god-given, way-out-there foreign place, 19

  fucking sweat puddles, 126

  fucking thirty-five-pound kettle bells, 125

  fucking tire, middle of the, 122

  fucking tired, 45

  fucking truth, 55

  fucking weird, 5

  fucking winner, 153

  fucking word, 123

  fucking world, rocked, 210

  fucknuts, 67

  fuckos, 74

  fucks, faceless, nameless, hopeless, 87

  fucks, judgmental hipster, 217

  fucks, sick, 274

  Iguodala, Andre fucking, 46

  Jackson, Bo “Motherfucking Run You Over Brian Bosworth Whenever I Feel Like It,” 270

  James, King Fucking, 168

  Jenner, Caitlyn, fucking boring, 224

  Jordan, Michael Fucking, 70

  Laettner, fucking Christian, 189

  Lue, Ty, little fucker, 173

  Miller, Reggie “the Fuck,” 71

  his fucking guts, hated, 71

  mind fuck, 64, 86

  Montana, Joe, fucking amazing hair and dimples, 71

  motherfucker, fat, 70

  motherfucker, flawed, 196

  motherfucker, self-destructive, 213

  motherfuckers, rich white, 223

  motherfuckers who clear your streets, 136

  motherfucking burpies, 123

  motherfucking button-up shirt, 263

  motherfucking dreams, real-life, 7

  motherfucking honesty, 196

  motherfucking king of self-expression, 53

  motherfucking lion, 110

  motherfucking Pittsburgh Steeler, 262

  motherfucking points, two points a game in college, 100

  Oakland Fucking Raiders, 79

  pissed the fuck off, 67

  prick-lipped function fuck, 125

  prostitute, fuck a, 17

  Rambo, John Fucking, 225

  Russell, Bill, simply fucking overrated, 41

  Slow as Fuck, Jewish Men Are, 50

  snowshoe fucked a flip-flop, 100

  Taylor, Lawrence Motherfucking, 15

  fucked three hookers, 16

  fucked-up teammates of, 16

  Vegas, fucking devil’s playground, 80

  Von Stretcherberg, Fuckface, 127

  wearing fucking wigs on TV, 35

  Woods, Tiger, fuckin’ animal, 23

  yoga fucks, 126

  your sweet fucking ass, 68

  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

  TOUCHSTONE and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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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)