Spurs Players Quotes

That’s it, Charlotte. Good girl.” His words spur me on, sending bolts of lightning through my body. My own fingers rub my clit in fast circles, and it feels so good; it’s a relief. Emerson’s hand rests over mine, but he isn’t touching me. Instead, he grips my hip with one hand and grinds his erection against my backside.

Make the Leader Occasionally Disappear: Several leaders of successful groups have the habit of leaving the group alone at key moments. One of the best at this is Gregg Popovich. Most NBA teams run time-outs according to a choreographed protocol: First the coaches huddle as a group for a few seconds to settle on a message, then they walk over to the bench to deliver that message to the players. However, during about one time-out a month, the Spurs coaches huddle for a time-out…and then never walk over to the players. The players sit on the bench, waiting for Popovich to show up. Then, as they belatedly realize he isn’t coming, they take charge, start talking among themselves, and figure out a plan.

During the so-called Jazz Age, most of the music's key exponents focused their creative energy on soloing not bandleading, on improvisation not orchestration, on an interplay between individual instruments not between sections. [...] Commercial pressures, rather than artistic prerogatives, stand out as the spur that forced many early jazz players (including Armstrong, Beiderbecke, and Hines) to embrace the big band idiom. But even in the new setting, they remained improvisers, first and foremost, not orchestrators or composers.

The cabin; by the stern windows; Ahab sitting alone, and gazing out. I leave a white and turbid wake; pale waters, paler cheeks, where'er I sail. The envious billows sidelong swell to whelm my track; let them; but first I pass. Yonder, by the ever-brimming goblet's rim, the warm waves blush like wine. The gold brow plumbs the blue. The diver sun— slow dived from noon—goes down; my soul mounts up! she wearies with her endless hill. Is, then, the crown too heavy that I wear? this Iron Crown of Lombardy. Yet is it bright with many a gem; I the wearer, see not its far flashings; but darkly feel that I wear that, that dazzlingly confounds. 'Tis iron—that I know—not gold. 'Tis split, too—that I feel; the jagged edge galls me so, my brain seems to beat against the solid metal; aye, steel skull, mine; the sort that needs no helmet in the most brain-battering fight! Dry heat upon my brow? Oh! time was, when as the sunrise nobly spurred me, so the sunset soothed. No more. This lovely light, it lights not me; all loveliness is anguish to me, since I can ne'er enjoy. Gifted with the high perception, I lack the low, enjoying power; damned, most subtly and most malignantly! damned in the midst of Paradise! Good night—good night! (waving his hand, he moves from the window.) 'Twas not so hard a task. I thought to find one stubborn, at the least; but my one cogged circle fits into all their various wheels, and they revolve. Or, if you will, like so many ant-hills of powder, they all stand before me; and I their match. Oh, hard! that to fire others, the match itself must needs be wasting! What I've dared, I've willed; and what I've willed, I'll do! They think me mad— Starbuck does; but I'm demoniac, I am madness maddened! That wild madness that's only calm to comprehend itself! The prophecy was that I should be dismembered; and—Aye! I lost this leg. I now prophesy that I will dismember my dismemberer. Now, then, be the prophet and the fulfiller one. That's more than ye, ye great gods, ever were. I laugh and hoot at ye, ye cricket-players, ye pugilists, ye deaf Burkes and blinded Bendigoes! I will not say as schoolboys do to bullies—Take some one of your own size; don't pommel me! No, ye've knocked me down, and I am up again; but ye have run and hidden. Come forth from behind your cotton bags! I have no long gun to reach ye. Come, Ahab's compliments to ye; come and see if ye can swerve me. Swerve me? ye cannot swerve me, else ye swerve yourselves! man has ye there. Swerve me? The path to my fixed purpose is laid with iron rails, whereon my soul is grooved to run. Over unsounded gorges, through the rifled hearts of mountains, under torrents' beds, unerringly I rush! Naught's an obstacle, naught's an angle to the iron way! CHAPTER

See others’ slights or outright insults as opportunities to show equanimity, spurring observers to do the same, unified with you around a best side of us. Opportunity Makers demonstrate that being a strong team player is as important as being the leader. Think well of yourself. The subconscious can't take a joke.

On our trip from Atlanta to San Diego we had a stopover in Dallas at Love Field. There’s a huge statue of a Texas Ranger in the terminal and it’s inscribed: “One Riot, One Ranger.” It reminded me of an incident when I was playing baseball in Amarillo. There were about five or six players having a drink at a table in the middle of this large, well-lit bar, all of us over twenty-one. Suddenly, through the swinging doors—Old West fashion—come these four big Texans, ten-gallon hats, boots, spurs, six-shooters holstered at their sides, the works. They stopped and looked around and all of a sudden everybody in the place stopped talking. I wouldn’t have been surprised if one of them said, “All right, draw!” They spotted us ballplayers and sauntered over, all four of them, spurs jangling, boots creaking, all eyes on them. “Let me see your IDs, boys,” one of them says. I don’t know what got into me, but I had to say—I had to after that entrance—to these obvious Texas Rangers, “First I’d like to see your identification.” I said it loud. He rolled his eyes up into his head in exasperation and very slowly and reluctantly he reached for his wallet, opened it and showed me his badge and identification card. I gave them a good going over. I mean a 20-second check, looking at the photo and then up at him. Then I said, “He’s okay, men.” Then, of course, we all whipped out our IDs, which showed we were all over twenty-one, and the Texas Rangers turned around and walked out, creaking and jangling. We laughed about that for weeks. I find it curious that of all the things Dallas could have chosen to glorify in the airport, it chose law enforcement. The only thing I know about Dallas law enforcement is that its police department allowed a lynching to occur on national television. Maybe the statue should have been of a group of policemen at headquarters, with an inscription that read: “One Police Department, One Lynching.

I thought that was really ignorant,” Popovich told ESPN about how international players were viewed. “I couldn’t believe that it was a pool that wasn’t being used.”   Reaching

On the Friday morning the Spurs party left Moscow and flew south to Kiev, capital of the Ukraine. After the disappointing weather in the Russian capital they were more than happy to arrive on a wonderful sunny day. The players were confidently told that the good weather would last throughout their stay and the visit to Kiev turned out to be the highlight of the tour. The people in the sun-drenched city seemed more relaxed than those in Moscow and the extensive beaches stretching along the banks of the River Dnieper were crowded with sunbathers. ‘They were a different sort of people,’ recalls Medwin. ‘They weren’t near Moscow and so didn’t feel the same pressure. It was a different way of life there. They enjoyed themselves and it looked a bit more glamorous.

Spurs were well supported and it was claimed they were the wealthiest club in the country. Blanchflower thought that perhaps their past thriftiness had set them solid foundations to face the future. And perhaps the mood of the club was changing to face the new demands of a changing football world. Tottenham had never been known for spending big on players, but here they were in a bidding war for Blanchflower.

Nicholson was both stern and critical in training. He knew the weaknesses of all his players and he exposed them so their team-mates could help to cover them in matches.

After the match the Wolves captain Billy Wright came into the Spurs dressing-room. ‘If a team ever beats you lot I’d be choked not to see it,’ he told the players. ‘You’re the finest side I’ve seen.

His smoking habit followed in the footsteps of Tottenham’s great inside forward Tommy Harmer. Nicholson didn’t allow the players to smoke in the dressing-room before a match so they’d go to the washroom. ‘There were only two toilets,’ recalls Maurice Norman. ‘They were the old-fashioned ones and Tommy Harmer was always in there smoking. The only way to get him out was to light a piece of paper and shove it under the door.’ Harmer was so addicted he’d even slip away for a cigarette at half-time.

How does a cranky, demanding coach create the most cohesive team in all of sports? One common answer is that the Spurs are smart about drafting and developing unselfish, hardworking, team-oriented individuals. This is a tempting explanation, because the Spurs clearly make a concerted effort to select high-character individuals. (Their scouting template includes a check box labeled “Not a Spur.” A check in this box means the player will not be pursued, no matter how talented he is.)

Duncan and Popovich evolved into what amounts to a father-son relationship, a high-trust, no-bullshit connection that provides a vivid model for other players, especially when it comes to absorbing Popovich’s high-volume truth-telling. As more than one Spur put it, If Tim can take Pop’s coaching, how can I not take it?

The team watched in silence as the story unfolded: Martin Luther King, Jr., Lyndon Johnson, and the Selma marches. When it was over, Popovich asked questions. He always asks questions, and those questions are always the same: personal, direct, focused on the big picture. What did you think of it? What would you have done in that situation? The players thought, answered, nodded. The room shifted and became something of a seminar, a conversation. They talked. They were not surprised because on the Spurs this kind of thing happens all the time.