Rick Adelman probably thought he could relax once he got sent packing by the Sacramento Kings – no more fans screaming about his style, no more cloud of imminent doom hanging over his head, no more damn columns on his hot seat status.

Adelman was wrong.

Damn.

Okay, so let's say your kid is solid point guard prospect with tons of skills. But he's a pothead. And he's a troublemaker. And he's undersized. Despite all this, a team decides to give your son an opportunity. They draft him #7, ahead of Dirk Nowitzki, Paul Pierce, and Bonzi Wells. They pay him more than $5 million over the next three years, and allow him to play on a team that showcases his nearly singular talents with a roster almost built around the breakneck speed your son is best suited for. This allows for more untold millions with future teams for your son. The house you're living in? Thank Rick Adelman and the Sacramento Kings. The fact your son is a starter in the NBA Finals? Thank Rick Adelman and the Sacramento Kings. This kid could be out of league in 2001 if not for Chris Webber's athleticism, Vlade Divac's chemistry-building, and Rick Adelman's offense.

If Jason Williams's dad feels like this, can you imagine how Gerald Wallace's folks feel? Damn.