Okay, we're sick and tired of hearing what a nice guy Steve Nash is! Yeah, he's in the twilight of his brilliant NBA career and, yeah, he wanted to go to a potential championship team, and the Phoenix Suns sure ain't gonna be that in our lifetime. But, Steve, the Los Angeles Lakers! The Lakers of Kobe Bryant and Metta World Peace (the nutjob formerly known as Ron Artest), the Lakers that have been a thorn in the Suns' side since for as long as we can remember, the Yankees of professional basketball! Look, we could've understood your going back to your Canuck homeland — why not the Toronto Raptors, where we never would hear about you again? Well, you'd be on TV twice a year playing the Suns, but we wouldn't watch. Or what about your summertime home of New York City, also in the Eastern Conference. We'd only possibly have to look at your mop-head twice a season there, too.
You did provide some excitement in your years here, Steve. You gave us hope. But, despite your two league MVPs, you never brought home the Canadian bacon. They say you did all you could, that it wasn't your fault — it was penny-pinching owner Robert Sarver's and his giant, foam hand. Maybe, but you are dead to us! We hope you suffer a career-ending groin injury in a collision with "Superman" Dwight Howard (proving that the rich get richer, the Lakers have managed to grab him, too). Steve, get oooout of town, ya hoser!