The Raptors lost again. That makes fifty eight sketches for that one person on the internet who draws after every game. I wonder if their hand hurts, or if they have just become numb to the process of detailing defeat (which is a feeling many of us share).
We lost by nine points, but Scottie Barnes was a plus eighteen. I am not a mathematician, naturally, but it takes a special kind of chaotic energy to be that much better than the game itself. It is like being the only person at a party who brought a vegetable platter while everyone else is currently setting the curtains on fire. You are doing Great Work, but the house is still burning down.
The Problem With Doing Things
Jacob Poeltl is a large man from Austria. People on the internet are asking why he does not simply do the things that make him better. It is a fair question, I suppose. I often ask myself why I do not simply go for a jog or eat a salad, but instead I find myself watching 2007 highlights of Rasho Nesterovic while eating a cold slice of pizza.
Yak is Yak. He is consistent, like a sturdy dresser from a Swedish furniture store. You know what you are getting, and you know it will probably be awkward to move. Expecting him to suddenly become someone else is a lot to ask of a man who has already perfected the art of the gentle push shot.
Confidence and Other Mysteries
Chris Boucher, or CMB as the youths call him, had some blocks. He always has blocks. He flies through the air like a guy who just remembered he left the oven on and needs to get home immediately. However, his offensive confidence seems to have vanished, which is a shame because a confident Boucher is one of the most entertaining things in professional sports.
He played good defense, but he seemed hesitant to shoot. It is hard to blame him. Sometimes you just do not feel like being the center of attention. I once spent an entire wedding hiding behind a large fern because I did not want to participate in the Electric Slide. Maybe Chris feels like the offense is the Electric Slide.
Moving Forward, Marginally
Tonight we play the Spurs. It is a back to back game, which the internet calls a SEGABABA, a word that sounds like something you would yell before jumping into a cold lake. We are playing Victor Wembanyama, a man who is so tall that he makes regular tall people look like they are standing in a hole.
I am not sure what to expect. My uncle says we should just play the rookies and let the chips fall where they may, but he also thinks the earth is slightly bowl shaped. We will probably lose, or maybe we will win by three. Either way, someone will draw a picture about it, and we will all be here to talk about the plus minus of a man in a losing effort. Such is life in the 6ix.