'“Man, listen, I’m not talking to Chip,” said an agitated McCoy. “We’ve got nothing to talk about. He can’t call me, he can’t shake my hand. There’s nothing he can do with me. He can’t say (expletive) to me, it’s as simple as that. I don’t dislike him. I don’t have anything against him, but there’s nothing for us to talk about. He knows that. He knows me. He knows how I am. He knows how I act. There’s nothing he can tell me. There’s nothing he can talk about.”'