Don’t Lose Your Ish Over a Tutu

Shortly after the piece was published, Vanessa laid into the reporter as she was leaving the Laker’s dressing room after game two of the San Antonio series.

So as I’m walking out of the Lakers locker room after some post-game interviews with the players, I pass Vanessa, who is sitting outside the locker room as usual with her two girls.

“Laura!” she screams (yes, she apparently knows my name). “ you! You ing bitch!”

“Excuse me?” I say, completely baffled as I look around me to see if there is someone else named Laura. No, there’s not.

Her daughters – ages 5 and 2 – are sitting next to her on the bench looking at their mom as she screams.

[More f-words ensue. Many more.]

I just stare at her. I’ve heard many stories about her from reporters, but this was unbelievable. Two of my friends from the LA Times told me how she cussed out one of them last season, because he said hi to her daughter. “Join the club, this means you’ve arrived,” said one reporter when word spread of my run-in with Vanessa. “She’s insane,” said another. “Everyone knows it.”

The sad part is before all of this I kind of liked Vanessa and I thought we hit it off. She doesn’t give a about anything. She wears these insane outfits, struts around Staples Center like a queen, shows off her daughters and lets them run around the hall way playing tag while reporters are trying to get by….As a journalist I am going to piss people off. That’s just the nature of the business. I never want to or intend to piss people off, but if you’re not pissing people off occasionally, then you are constantly kissing ass.

Rule number one in basketball: never ridicule a basketball wife’s tutu. That is sacred.

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