Trust The Process // Basketball Twitter Is A Dumpster Fire
Trust the Process
A ladder falls from the sky. Something should come after that, like a ladder falls from the sky and I climb it, as one tends to do when standing in front of a ladder, and when I climb the ladder there’s God, all three parts of him, playing NBA 2k21 on his PS4, still, still, mumbling about the Kawhi trade and the seeding dilemma between conferences, and should the league forego the one-and-done rule, and really, what constitutes GOAT status—rings? Stats? Era played? And will Charles Barkley make a cameo in Space Jam 3? And then God pauses the game, sets down his controller and says, It was Hinkie who died for your sins. I nod as God smites the entire preseason, Kyrie’s flat earth, Christian Laettner’s gold medal, Tyler Herro’s jump shot, the entire Los Angeles skyline.
Basketball Twitter Is a Dumpster Fire
If basketball players want to be rappers and rappers want to be basketball players, then do poets want to be novelists and do novelists want to be birds? I sell the film rights to my youth and now every movie starts with a baby born tightening corsets. My personal trainer asks me what I’m looking for and I tell him, To fight Udonis Haslem and win. My favorite smell is you tucking a tulip behind my ear as you run your fingers up my thigh. It’s 2021 and Kevin Love is still collecting paychecks, Giannis’ brother got a ring before him, and I’m pretty JR Smith still can’t find his shirt. They changed the shot clock a couple years ago, but time ticks slower now. First to sixteen. Down twenty-eight with five left in the fourth. It’s good to believe. Seattle hasn’t felt super since the aughts. Every May 26th I call Lance Stephenson and LeBron James and wish them a happy anniversary. I PayPal them fifty dollars and tell them to do something special. It’s every night when I tell you to come over and give me that finger roll.
