The situation in Madrid

I live with seven other people here in Madrid at calle Gravina 14, right off the Plaza Chueca. We are eight: three Italians, two Americans (including myself), one Costa Rican, one Brit, and one German. I am the oldest by a good three or four years, but everyone is nice and responsible and clean enough. Still, I seem to get along best with the Italians, especially the sweet and terribly attractive young couple of Valentina and Paolo, who are also both wonderful cooks. I have made a tentative agreement with them that if they cook dinner for me on _ occasions, that I will take them out to dinner as a means of recompense.

Last night, while walking home from a bar in nearby Malasaña, Paolo, Marco (the third Italian), and myself got to talking*:

Paolo: Who was that playmaker** that used to play for Charlotte? Very short, but fast.
Robert: Muggsy Bogues.
P: Yes, right! Muggsy Bogues!
R: And if you're Gary Payton - "The Glove" - then Marco can be Muggsy Bogues.
P: Why is Marco Muggsy Bogues?
R: Because, like Muggsy, Marco is a short man.
P: OK, OK.
R: So, then who am I?
P: You? Let's see... You're Horace Grant!
R: Horace Grant!? That doesn't make any sense!
P: Sure it does - You wear glasses sometimes, don't you?

* Trans. from the Spanish by the author.
** Actual english word used by Paolo in the course of the conversation.