tonight will be the night that i will ball for you

Ride it

Characters: Harry!husband x Reader

Word count: ~1.8K

Warnings: insinuations, oral sex, explicit sex

Author's note: I don't know much about basketball, but here it is. Again, English is not my first language.

Versão em PT-BR

***

I felt that sometimes Harry didn't learn how competitive I was, even after years of marriage. We had a bet on which of our favorite basketball teams would win tonight and well, I won.

We were at an NBA championship game, me rooting for my big Lakers and Harry for the Celtics.

Between dunks and shots, Lakers won 81-71. It was a good game for both teams and even better for me.

I avoided my little victory dance so as not to hurt Harry, he hated to lose and I knew how hurt he was like a kid without dessert, so since he had lost, I just clapped my hands and smiled.

After leaving the crowd that came to take a picture with Harry, even the Lakers fans, we had made it into the car. I just glared suggestively at Harry and he just ignored me or stuck out his tongue like a tantruming child.

What can I do? He invented this and also the payment of the bet, my team just did their job.

We put on our seat belts and Harry started the car.

Harry hummed softly and I bit the ligaments in my fingers with my elbow against the car door, while H drove through the streets of Los Angeles.

The music had changed from quiet to more upbeat, I loved it, and like cartoons, a light bulb went on above my head.

I still hadn't thought for sure what my prize would be, but Harry, if I had won we would have to do heavier banter in public, since I was very reserved being a kindergarten teacher, but I think I might go further tonight.

"Let it be, let it be, let it be known..." I began "Touching and teasing me, telling me no, but this time I need to feel you..." I held Harry's hand that rested on the backrest between us. He pulled it lightly and kissed it, without taking his lips off the road, I couldn't wait to have fun tonight.

***

We arrived a few minutes later, I went to the bathroom in our suite while Harry activated our house alarm.

I literally ran through the shower, grabbed the lilac silk camisole that barely covered my buttocks. I had bought it the day after we had placed the bet, but I hadn't told Harry, I wanted him to have fun too if I won.

Grabbing my perfume from the huge shelf in our bathroom, I sprayed it on my neck, between my breasts and wrists. I untied my hair and that was it.

A beautiful hot girl.

I lay down in the middle of our bed and crossed my legs waiting for Harry to arrive, I grabbed my cell phone that I had left on the bedside table and looked for a song in the playlist setting it on the TV installed on the wall of the room.

"Babe, how about we plant..." Harry opened the door and faced me "...Daisies outside, but what's that? I lost the bet..." His mischievous grin appeared in moments.

"We can both win the bet, Mr. Styles." I blinked returning the smile.

Harry was wearing a white button down shirt with sleeves, there was a Celtics logo printed on it with dark maroon pants matching the top and black all stars.

His hand hooked on the first button of his blouse, but I stopped him.

"No sir... I want to see you take off your clothes, but slowly and with background music." I lifted my body and spread my legs a little, giving Harry the view to see that I was wearing the panties he loved most on my body.

Grabbing the TV remote, I put the music on. Harry had his hands resting on his waist, his cheeks had blushed repeatedly and his head was shaking negatively.

"Come on, baby... This will be my prize," I whimpered a little.

"A strip tease, honey? You swear?" He laughed nervously, he really didn't expect it.

"I've already done it for you and you know how much I like this song. I stood up and went bouncing over to Harry, his hands sliding from my waist to my buttocks, where I could feel his fingers pressing hard into my flesh to the point where I could feel the frosting of his rings.

Kissing the jaw that I idolized so much, I moved slowly down to Harry's neck, and he closed his eyes with a sigh and nodded.

I kissed him and turned my back to the edge of the bed, biting my lips to hold back my victory shout.

I went back to the music from the beginning after groping around the bed for my cell phone, Harry had dimmed the light even more, letting only the brightness of the full moon shining through the glass illuminate his body.

Harry's fingers slowly unbuttoned his shirt, slowly revealing the tattoo of birds and the butterfly on top of his belly.

He looked down at me, his eyes staring into mine as I felt my breathing become heavy. I didn't deny how much power Harry had over me, nothing to do with S&M, but he exuded sympathy and sensuality, and it held me in a surprising way.

As soon as he finished unbuttoning his shirt, it fell from his shoulders to the floor, I don't know if he had done it on purpose as I rambled on, but the V-shaped line giving the path to my happiness was showing in conjunction with the branch tattoos.

I could feel my panties getting wet. Harry blinked slowly at me, which made me bite my lips as a reflex.

Holding the button of his pants like it was the heaviest thing in the world, Harry brought out his tattooed biceps, I wanted him to hold me tight with those arms and I had Harry's physical trainer to thank for that, he really went all out with his training routines.

The button on his pants was like a signal to come back from my thoughts "Stop dreaming and focus on me, (Y/N), I'm here and I'm your man!"

Okay, I am no longer feeling my legs, only the river that had formed between them.

Walking slowly over to me, Harry held my face tilting it so that I could look at him. I struggled to find words due to the closeness and warmth being emanated from the palm of his hands. "I'm just admiring you, Hazz..."

Leaning his face up to my ear, Harry let out "I make you hot, baby girl?" I closed my eyes and when I opened them, I noticed his erection strongly marking his pants, making my mouth water, I just moaned softly in agreement.

With that, he planted a kiss just below my ear before continuing down my neck and along my collarbone. His teeth brushed against my skin a few times, but the feel of his tongue soothing each spot made me cry out for him between softer moans.

Over the top of the sweater, he reached for my breasts, Harry kneading them, until his fingers laced through the shoulder straps and down my arms.

Putting one knee between my legs, Harry slipped his arm around my waist and pushed my body to the middle of the bed.

Lying on top of me and with my breasts already showing, he deftly caressed one while his mouth worked on another nipple, gently flicking and swirling his tongue around it.

I arched my back involuntarily and my fingers tugged at his hair with the sensation. "Harry." I sighed his name between the faint moans escaping my lips.

"You are as sweet as your scent, my woman," he murmurs against my skin. "I need to taste you for the rest of my life, know this."

"Hmm" I murmur as he moves to stand between my legs, gently pulling my panties down in one swift motion. He settles into place, kissing the inside of my thigh, stopping before where I needed it most, doing the same with my other thigh. "Stop teasing," I beg.

Harry chuckled lightly. "Patience, dear."

But as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he runs his finger through my folds, stopping at my clit, applying enough pressure to make my head fall back against the pillow.

He quickly replaces his finger with his mouth, kissing my clit before sliding his tongue down my slit, teasing my already wet entrance.

Harry places his mouth back on my clit, swirling his tongue around and flicking it. He hums against me, enjoying the noises he is causing in me, and my back arches out of the bed.

"Don't stop," I exhale with my eyes closed.

I feel him shove two fingers inside me, and from that moment on, I that I wouldn't last much longer. As he pumped his fingers firmly, I could feel that euphoria approaching fast.

"I'm going to cum," I grunted. "Fuck!"

"Mhm," he hums against me, "But already, my love?"

My eyes close harder as the orgasm coursed through my body.

My thighs trembled as Harry continues to work. He slowed the movement of his fingers and used his other hand to rub his side gently.

When I opened my eyes again, his face was in front of me. "Hi," he whispers and leans in for a brief kiss.

Time to reciprocate, I thought already stretching my hand towards his member, he interrupts me by grabbing my wrist and I face him "Today is about the winner...," he says. "And now, I need to be inside you." "I like that, love..." I confessed. With a teasing laugh, Harry kneels between my legs and removes his pants with his underwear, leaving his cock pointed up and with its lubricated little head in my field of vision.

Without time to think much, my admiration turns into a groan as I feel him begin to thrust into me.

"Great game, lovie!" he teases and I let out a gasping laugh. He gives me a second to relax and adjust, nudging his side and taking my hand, intertwining my fingers with his.

"Still with me?"

I exhale and smile at him. "Yes, keep going."

It takes a few strokes before he is fully in me, Harry sets a steady pace, and I revel in the pleasure.

"Shit," he utters. "Do you feel as good as I do, baby?"

I can't say much except moan as I feel him stretching me taut. Harry places his thumb on my clit and begins rubbing in tight circles. My eyes almost roll back, and I can feel the next orgasm growing inside me.

"I'm close," he groans hoarsely. "I want you to cum with me, baby."

I whimper as I hear his tone and nod my head. His movements become faster and his breathing becomes more irregular.

"Oh, God," I say choking, as my body begins to tremble with his second orgasm. "So good, Harry..."

The supreme sensation makes me involuntarily squeeze his member inside me. Harry stands still and settles down, and with a groan, I feel him release himself inside me.

He rests his forehead against my shoulder as we both try to catch our breath. I rub his back slowly, feeling my fingernails leave some marks.

When he lifts his head, Harry had a few drops of sweat all over his face, but without taking my beloved smile away... "I never thought I would say this, but I hope the Lakers win more often from now on."

I give a muffled laugh stealing a kiss.

Lakers... win again, please.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hey you! If you like it, please tell me to keep encouraging me.

👀 could I request a steamy makeout sesh with aomine pls!!

Steamy Makeout Session with Aomine Daiki 💦🔝

(mature themes)

A/N: I FINALLY FINISHED KNB AND I AM OFFICIALLY OUT HEREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE boi. I have been itching to get to these requests out and the time has finally come! Le First of many 🤍 🏀 I will update my rules now that I’m back. But basically I hope the small fan base comes back to lifeeee

Aomine Daiki knows he is probably the best kisser to ever live…… fuck

Momoi once made him join the Kissing Booth at the school carnival because she knew how much money she would raise and he literally made 2 girls faint….deadass

His kisses are exactly how we all imagine he does…..maybe a little better smh

It kind of annoys you actually

Because he will kiss you at the most strategic of times (for him) so to exercise his soft control but also to have you yearning for him all day until y’all get in your shared bed

For example, at all of his NBA games, Daiki reserves seats for you and whoever you’d like too bring in the same area every time: right by the tunnel so that he can kiss you before and after he plays

Usually its just a simple quick peck on the lips…

But today after his team surprisingly lost against the Browns, and in the midst of the post-NBA game chaos, Aomine leaned up to kiss you up where you were seated, as per usual

You leaned down to meet him halfway, pressing your lips on his then pulling away from the peck you were used to at games. However, Daiki just urgently cups your face in his giant hands and kisses you with astonishing passion, stealing your breath, and moving his soft lips across yours in the heady way that turns you into goo the way only Aomine knows how

His Big dick energy is on 100

and just when you forget where you even are and try to deepen the kiss, your boyfriend pulls away briskly and walks to the changeroom without so much as a goodbye

You knew that that kiss meant that you better prepare yourself NOW for the hotel room tonight because he is pissed about losing that game and he will take out his aggression on his beautiful girlfriend

You are left flustered and impossibly horny after that kiss, you have to embarrassingly smile at your girlfriends who are just as confused with Aomine’s PDA

That night, Aomine is completely silent when the driver brings you two back to the hotel, and he is silent when you two step into the luxurious elevator, too. You’re used to it from dating an athlete, but you also know that the more silent your man is, the angrier he is about losing, meaning the better he will rail once you two get upstairs

You look up at him, staring only at his soft lips and tanned skin as you two step in the elevator and press floor 26. Another group of people are walking toward your elevator when Aomine growls lowly, so low that only you can hear it. He steps forward and puts his hand out as to say “stop” and the group halts in their place. Aomine nods at them once.

“Occupied.”

he states: his tone allowing absolutely zero room for debate. Aone stares down the surprised group as the doors shut.

When they do close, your NBA player immediately whips around and lunges for you—or should I say your lips—crashing his soft ones on yours and making an entrance into your mouth, never having to beg for one. Begging is your job, when he’s edging you.

You give in and open your mouth, inhaling the scent of your boyfriend’s manly cologne and moaning into the kiss.

Aomine’s large tongue dominates yours into submission, roaming everywhere he’d like to, which also happens to be everywhere you’d like him to, also. He then sucks on your tongue with fervour at the same time that he takes both your breasts in his hands, massaging them gently.

While he is kissing you oh-so-harshly but amazingly, his hand’s ministrations are the quite the contrary— as delicate as a flower, using them to lift the bottom of your breasts slightly as if he’s weighing them, humming because he loves our chest, then using his thumbs to encircle your nipples

Aomine lets out an appreciative sigh into your mouth as your nipples harden underneath his soft touch

You can’t handle this, so you’re arching into his touch, silently begging him to be just as rough with his caresses as he is with his kisses.

He knows the contrast of his no-mercy kiss and barely there tit massage is driving you crazy

He knows.

So you tap him twice on the side of his arm: your safe signal that means you need a second, this time it’s so that you can check why this elevator is the slowest one in the fucking world mate, and when Aomine feels your tap he instantly releases you from the kiss

You immediately regretted your decision.

“No, I untap, still kiss me,” You whispered, breathless and shaken by how much you felt lost when his lips weren’t on yours.

Aomine stared into your eyes with his fiery dark blue ones, searching them to make sure you are good. When his search is merely met with the dark sultry expression in your eyes pleading at him to continue, he then just smirks but switches: now landing soft sweet kisses on your cheeks, forehead…. and then your lips but—

Since this is a switch, now that means Aomine’s gentle caresses from before now become much more relentless, taking your tits in handfuls, pushing them together and tweaking your nipples at the same time

You groan out of pleasure and Daiki does too, you not even realizing that you ultimately forgot to even check what floor y’all were passing. You just wanted him to be between your legs already

Aomine realized that his best game loss cure is making you orgasm, so you knew you anticipated the long night ahead of you

The elevator dings, announcing your arrival on the top floor finally, and Aomine lifts you up with one arm, his left forearm just under your ass, your racing heart pressed to his ear. If you lifted your hand you could easily touch the ceiling lights.

While you mentally thought about what article of clothing you were going to tear off your man first, Aomine lazily searched for the room key.

“God, hurry up,” You snap breathlessly, impatiently wanting his lips on yours again.

Your boyfriend just chuckles heartily before admitting that he forgot the key pass in the car.

You kinda want to rip his head off but you hold back because if you do that then who will kiss you madly and ruin you in the best way other than the love of your life, tonight?

Aomine just nonchalantly trotted back to the elevator and pressed the button again so the doors opened. He steps inside and immediately dropped you down a few inches (still holding you), leaning in to make out with you silly once more. You are in heaven 😩

On the way down, when the elevator annoyingly stopped on a random floor—breaking your kiss to accommodate others........ you ultimately made Aomine fall in love with you even more because you surprised him—beating him to the punch by putting a hand out to the hotel guests and stating,

“Occupied.”

Before the doors shut.

Back to my 2020 KNB Masterlist!

Cielo, O. Diaz

Summary: Despite Oscar’s protest of a date night, he complies and adds in some TLC to end the night.

warnings: fluff stuff, semi-angst, freak s h e t 👅 (18+)

word count: 1.6K

requested by anon!

A/N: Thank you for requesting this! It’s a such a hawt idea of Oscar whining but making it up you, we love to see it. Wow, I am loving the daily interaction with you all, thank you babes!! A reminder: REQUESTS ARE CLOSED. Just because requests are closed, don’t hesitate to chat with me. Please consider following me, heart/comment/reblog my content and turn on the notifs for when I post something new!

taglist: @clemmingstylins0n​ @princesstiffxoxo​ @fairygardenss​ @firebenderwolf​ @spookysnena​ @mbaku-babygirl​ @chellybear98​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @i-just-wanna-live-gc​ @roury66​ @kkim120​ @lillict​ (please let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

(Gif belongs to @merakiaes​  🌟)

Oscar loves to keep busy, always on the go and someplace different nearly everyday but there are some days where he’d rather do nothing but lounge at home all day long. And though not much people know, he’s big NBA fan. He enjoys watching the games, enjoying a cold beer.

He’s sat on the couch, nursing the 4th beer of the night nearly an hour into the game. His team is leading and everything is chill, nothing could ruin it. But of course, he does get his attention pulled from the TV when he sees you through his peripheral pass through the hallway 3 times.

“Mami, the fuck are you going back and forth for?” He calls out as he takes a long sip from the bottle, not taking his attention away from the game.

You are focused on getting your eyelash on snug when you hear him call out. The band sticking to your lash line before you take a breath in. “Getting ready!”

“For what?” Oscar asks.

The quietness in the bathroom is eerie as you pause to listen if he follows that question with him joking but nothing but a clap sounds from the next room over. You roll you eyes as you finish painting your face on, “What do you mean for what? It’s date night! You told me we could go out to dinner last week so we are going out!”

Crap. Oscar closes his eyes for a brief moment, forgetting all about his promise to wine and dine you. But to be fair, you never gave him the heads up when exactly it’d be. He definitely didn’t want to miss out on this game.

You continue to get ready, your face nicely caked on and hair up, pushed back. And tonight you can finally wear the new jeans you got and it’s definitely working in your advantage. With one final look in the mirror, you gather things and head to the living room, expecting to see a dressed and waiting Oscar.

But he’s still in the basketball shorts from this morning. An audible sigh escapes your lips as you cross your arms. He looks over at you, “Really? You’re lucky you take 5 minutes to get ready and that you’re bald. Vamos, babe.”

“Mami, there’s one more quarter left. I can’t just bounce now.” His hands points towards the TV. The crowd cheering as a basket is made causing Oscar to jump up with excitement. “Oscar, we have reservations in 20 minutes!”

He huffs and sits back down, putting up a fight like a child, “Reschedule, we’ll go tomorrow. Com’n, bebita. You knew there was a game tonight, I told you about it last week.”

“Yeah well, I told you about dinner last week too. And I thought that this would be more important than the stupid game where they fly balls back and forth! Forget it!” You throw your hands up in defeat. The frustration clouding your mind instantly. Once in the bedroom, you kick off your heels and crawl on the bed to cry.

If there is one thing that you are really good at, it’s being a devoted girlfriend. You have stood beside your boyfriend even when things went south between him and the Santos. You’d go everywhere with him and do everything with him. And vice versa. The two of you inseparable. So naturally, hearing him saying no to something you want to do is heart wrenching.

Oscar continues watching the game but can’t seem to focus as he thinks back on your face and the sound of your voice a few minutes ago. He rubs his face and stands, heading into the bathroom to get a quick shower.

You’re too busy scrolling on your phone to have noticed Oscar entering the room. When you hear him clear his throat, you look to see him dressed in his nice plaid, button down shirt and the rest of the usual cholo attire. You try to resist the smile creeping on your face but you can’t.

“Come on, we going or what?”

The look on your face brings a smile to Oscar’s as you jump up to quickly fix your tear streamed face. After the time it took you to get ready again, you two make it to the fancy restaurant just in time. You’re eager to see Oscar’s reaction to the place since he has a liking for cooking. He’s definitely intrigued and glad he decided to go.

A night of fine wine and dine with Oscar is all you wanted tonight and you got it. You two ordered a bunch of foods you love as well as different things that peaked your interest. Enjoyed some lovely wine, him as included. By the end of dinner, you can’t tell who is crying more: your jeans or Oscar’s wallet.

The two of you make it home, both feeling the sleepiness seeping into your bones. As you place the take out bag of leftovers in the fridge, you feel Oscar closely behind you.

You stand upright and Oscar brings his hands to your waist, as he places kisses on your exposed shoulder. His hands explore your body as you lean back into him, how he has any energy for this is beyond you. 

“Mhm, you enjoy tonight?” He asks you as he kisses right below your ear. It sends shivers down your spine, you inching away from him when he bites your earlobe. You can only hum in response.

You turn on your heel and clash your lips against his. On your tiptoes to reach his face and squeezing it between both your hands. He deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip, awaiting permission. Being ever the gentleman tonight. Once you open your mouth more, your tongues are clashing against each other. 

Oscar pushes you towards the counter and lifts you onto it. Something about your man being able to lift you with ease only makes you feel more aroused. Your hands fall below you and  you start to work his belt. The clinking sound of the metal making you more excited. Once you get it undone, you palm him to through his shorts and feel the hardness.

His hand meets yours and pushes it back, “Let me take of you tonight.”

You blush and wring your arms around his neck. Oscar lifts you again, walking the two of you to the bedroom. Both of you quickly discarding your clothes and wrapping up in each other. He is kissing on your neck and down your chest, stopping to take a nipple into his mouth. His tongue circles your nipple and he looks up at you, seeing you in immense pleasure, eyes closed and head tilted back.

Oscar does the same to your other breast before kissing down to your navel. He is peppering kissing on your hip bones and closer to your sex. He brings your legs over his shoulder when he is face to face with your throbbing heat. One thing he loves most when being intimate with you is eating you out. The way you can squirm under him is addicting.

“Hm, come on. Give it to me. Eat me out, papi,”

You rest on foot on his shoulder and push his face down into your cunt with the other. He places a kiss on your clit and you suck in a breath. The shock it leaves you in is exhilarating. Then his tongue licks a swipe through your slit, once and then twice and then continuously.

He is holding your hips down with both his hands as you being to squirm. “Hmmm.” Oscar hums whichs sends vibration into your cunt and you arch your back off the bed. 

You are a writhing mess as his tongue swirls around your sensitive, swollen bud inching you closer and closer to a release. Oscar moves a hand below him to stroke his dick, the sight of your losing yourself to his mouth has him ready to bust. You are now slightly bucking your hips forward. He takes his mouth off you to breath. “Hm, keep going, please. I’m gonna cum, make me cum with your mouth.”

Oscar spits on your clit and begins to violently attack it by moving his tongue around it then adding his lips and sucking. Your cunt dripping with arousal as Oscar dips his tongue into your aching entrance and tongue fucking you. He quickly moves back to the assault on your clit as he feels your body begins to shudder.

Your hands hold his head down at the intensity hits you all at once. Oscar relentless by not stopping even as your body convulses under him.

“Fuck, fuuuuuck. Okay, okay, okay papi, stop!” You push his head off you with a laugh as you scoot up. He smiles at you with his mouth and chin drenched. He crawls on top your body and takes your lips with his, tasting yourself and not minding at all.

A sigh escapes your lips as Oscar sits up and you see the mess he made from eating you out as well as cum from himself, “You came by just eating me out? You were barely touching yourself.”

“You got that effect on me. I hope this makes up for today. I shouldn’t have waited until you were crying to agree on dinner. Won’t happen again, forgive me?” He asks you. You sit up and reach for his neck to pull him down on you,

He lets out a breathy laugh as he now lays on you, “Ask me after you fill me up.”

The Cardinal Rules of Basketball . . . with Bryce Lahela

Word Count: 2172

Pairing: Bryce x MC (Bentley Rogers)

Rating: Mature 

Warnings: Language, allusions to sexual content

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to Pixelberry studios. 

Author’s Note: Yo, does anyone else miss Bryce Lahela? Yeah same.We all know Bryce is a goddamn king, so it comes as no surprise that he loves Women’s Basketball like a real man should. Can guarantee no one was happier than our guy when the Stanford Cardinal got the W in March Madness. Tagging @mrskvall because of the photo of Bryce in the championship shirt!

Bentley Rogers sauntered over to Bryce with a flirtatious smile on her lips. She hadn’t seen him outside of work for a few weeks, and she missed him. As much as she wanted to say she missed Bryce the person, today she was mainly missing Bryce the sex god. She hadn’t enjoyed his “company” outside of work in a long time. And god, was she horny.

 So she leaned against the nurses station, batting her eyelashes, “Hey there stud, got any plans for tonight?” she let her hand fall on his forearm, gently stroking it with her long nails.

 He laughed, looking down at her trying her best to seduce him, “Ah, actually I do.”

“Well maybe you should take a raincheck . . . because I promise you, it’s guaranteed to be wet. Well, I am.”

 “Hmm, you’re doing a good job flirting today, B, but there’s no way to raincheck this one.”

 “How can you have plans you can’t raincheck? Do you really not want to spend time with me? I’ve been practicing my breathing in yoga lately, so I can give a blowjob way better than I used to. And if your reactions are anything to go by, I was pretty good before . . . .”

 “Bentley Rogers, nice try, but I can’t raincheck it because it’s the most important basketball game of the year.”

 “It’s April, basketball doesn’t get important until like June.”

 “Bentley, as a strong woman yourself, I would think what you consider “basketball” would be a bit broader than the NBA.”

 Bentley hadn’t watched a basketball game in ages, but she did recall the Stanford Cardinal had made the National Championship.

 “Ah,” she said. “College basketball.”

 “You can join if you want, but I have to warn you, I’m worse about watching basketball than I am at playing it. I’m not a nice guy.”

 “Oh, would you say you’re a bit . . . aggressive?”

 “Mmm, you don’t know the half of it,” he leaned down and nipped her lip quickly, so quick no one watching would notice. “But if you want, you and your friends can come watch it at my place.”

 “No offense, but your place is super small. What about if you come to my place and we all watch it together, and then after we can have some victory sex?”

 “Not an Arizona fan?”

 “Not that, just a happy Bryce fan.”

 “You’re a good woman, Bentley Rogers.”

 “Well, Bryce Lahela, what food can I get for tonight? Anything you want, after all, Bloom doesn’t pay me the big bucks to get you cheap pizza.”

 “Mmm, wings, nachos, those types of things. Even bad pizza.”

 “Well consider yourself treated. It’s at five, right?”

 He nodded, “You don’t have to do this, Bentley. That’s so nice of you.”

 “If I’m honest, I’m doing this because I’m horny as fuck and I need you, really bad.”

 “So I am just a piece of meat to you, Rogers, aren’t I?”

 She laughed, then turned serious, squeezing his forearm, “Not even close.”

 ...

 Later that night, Bentley had changed into a pair of leggings and a plain red sweatshirt. Every time she had tried to steal Bryce’s Stanford hoodie, he stole it back the next time they slept together. This was one of those times when he had taken it back. She smiled at the thought of getting it back eventually, and then eventually just living in the same place as both Bryce and the hoodie.

 But they weren’t official. She had no idea why, he hadn’t brought it up in three years, so maybe he didn’t want it. Even after she almost died, he didn’t make a move to lock it down, but god did she want to. If she was honest, she was in love with him. She had been since the night she met Keiki and he opened up about his life. And maybe, just maybe, after his team won the national championship, it would be a good time to tell him.

 She took a seat next to Bryce, who was watching the pregame festivities. Everyone else was in the kitchen, gabbing and eating.

 “Nervous?” she asked, taking his hand in hers.

 “Yeah. We haven’t won one since 92, and I wasn’t even a fan yet.”

 “Were you even alive yet?”

 “No.”

 “Who is your favorite player?”

 Bryce smiled over at her, rambling on about Anna Wilson and Kiana Williams. She listened to him happily. His face was lit up, and she thought it was really cute that he was so excited about this women’s basketball game. And about his team in general. She thought he was adorable all the time, but right now he was at his most adorable.

 As he was talking, hands waving around animatedly, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He stopped abruptly, “What was that for?”

 “You’re just so cute.”

 He blushed and returned the kiss on her cheek.

 “Well that was about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Sienna said coming over and taking a seat by Bentley. Raf sat down next to Sienna, balancing a plate filled with food.

 Bentley stood up, “Quack quack. Bryce you want anything?”

 He nodded and she went over to fill up two plates, then dropped them off with Bryce before grabbing a couple of beers for them. She sat down, cheersed him, and then dug into the wings she had piled high on her plate. Bryce set his down and didn’t touch it for the entire first quarter. He just leaned forward with his head in his hands and didn’t pay attention to anything else. After the game was at the first quarter break, he leaned back and started eating finally. Bentley wrapped her arm around his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

 “They got this, baby. Don’t worry.”

 “Oh I’m worried. Very worried.”

 “Well, I’ll let you be worried. But if you ever don’t want to hold your own hand and need mine, I’m here. I can’t fix it for you, but I can be right here beside you.”

 “I appreciate it, but it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better.”

 “Okay, I’m here. You sat by my side when I was literally dying, I can sit beside you now.”

 “You’re nice, but I’m going to be really mean if it stays close.”

 “I can take it, Bryce. Also I don’t believe you’ll ever be mean to me, you lo-like me too much.”

 “Hmm, I guess I probably won’t. But it’s not going to be pretty,” he leaned over and kissed her lip gently. She smiled and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

 “Do whatever you need to do, Bry. I’m here with you, even if you get mad. Even if you get mad at me. Maybe not if you get mad at Elijah, but otherwise I’m here for you.”

 “I could never be mad at Elijah, that kid is way too nice.”

 Elijah wasn’t paying attention, he had his laptop out on his lap, going over some of his research. Everyone else looked over at him and he finally noticed what was happening and joined back in for a few minutes, at least until halftime.

 Bryce was a bit calmer at halftime, taking a few more bites of his food, then putting his arm around Bentley as they watched the halftime show. She smiled softly, leaning into Bryce and letting him hold her. Even this she had missed. He was the guy she wanted to be with all the time. Just being next to him watching tv was preferable to going out and being hit on by other guys, who may be hot, but just weren’t Bryce. He was her best friend.

 She looked up at him watching the analysts intently. He was hanging on Carolyn Peck’s every word and she let out a giggle, drawing his attention.

 “What?”

 “I like this side of you.”

 “You do?”

 “Yeah. It’s cute to see you nerding out over women’s sports. I think it’s the mark of a good man to care about women’s sports if you say you like men’s sports too.”

 “It’s a lot of fun to watch. I went to more women’s sporting games at Stanford than men’s. What were we even good at? Maybe we pretended to be good at football, but I don’t think we really were.”

 “Well it’s cute regardless of why.”

 “You’re cute,” he said, giving her a gentle kiss. “I appreciate you watching this with me. I’ll get worse before I get better.”

 He was right. With five seconds left, Bryce was at his worst. He was standing up and pacing between the couch and the windows. Bentley knew the ball was going to be in Aari McDonald’s hands, it was just going to come down to if she made the shot or not. And in the end, she didn’t.

 Before Bentley could even process what had happened, Bryce had picked her up and swung her around. She was laughing, he was cheering, and everyone else was smiling. Bentley did like McDonald, but she liked Bryce more, so she was happy.

 Bryce cheered and celebrated, then calmed down to watch all the interviews and post-game coverage, but everyone else who didn’t have work the next day started making plans to go out.  Bentley glanced over at Bryce, who was engrossed in the television.

 “I think we’ll maybe catch up later,” Bentley said, Bryce having no clue what was going on at all. He kept watching attentively after everyone left and she leaned her head against his shoulder. Eventually he realized she was there and settled back into the corner, tugging her closer so she was cuddled up with him. She slung her legs over his knees and let him pull her up so she was almost on his lap.

 The tv moved on and started talking about other things, and Bryce’s attention turned solely to her, “Do you want to catch up with everyone else?”

 She shook her head, “No. I just want to be with you.”

 He grinned, then reached under her knees and picked her up. They headed over to her room and he deposited her onto the bed, then jumped in and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

 “Today all I wanted to do was sleep with you, but now all I want to do is talk to you. I’ve missed you loads Bryce.”

 He smiled softly, tenderly running his hand over her hair, “I’ve missed you too. I don’t like only seeing you for a few minutes at work. I need you to be in my life more than that.”

 “I need to be in your life more than that, too. I hate this.”

 “So what do we do to fix it?”

 She sighed, “We can pick days where I come over or where you come over, but that will get annoying really quickly.”

 “Well, no one lives with me. I wouldn’t need any approval for you to just, move in with me?”

 She grinned up at him, “You want me to move in with you?”

 He nodded, “You wouldn’t have to pay rent until your lease is up here. My parents send me more money than I need for Keiki and I know it’s because they want to pay for me and get me back in their lives. So I use that to pay for rent, so you not doing it wouldn’t be an issue.”

 “Bryce, are you really wanting me to move in with you?”

 He nodded, “Yeah, I am. Bentley, you’ve been my life saver since I came here. I’ve never had a relationship like the one I have with you. You’re such a good friend to me, and I can tell you have some sort of affection for me. I haven’t had these feelings before, Bentley. I love you.”

 “Bryce!” she exclaimed, tugging him closer to press her lips to his. They kissed passionately, letting each other get reacquainted with the other in this way. They hadn’t had a kiss like this anywhere but a supply closet for a really long time. And finally, she pulled away and said it back.

 “I love you, too, Bryce Lahela.”

 His grin was so wide as he met her lips again, “This is the best night of my life.”

 “I think it’s going to get better,” she said with a smile. “Although I just want to be with you, that victory sex does sound pretty good.”

 “Before we jump to that, think we should make you my girlfriend?”

 “Why not? Let’s go for the big three!”

 “Happy to. Bentley will you be my girlfriend?”

 She nodded, “Yes! Oh Bryce, I love you so much.”

 “I love you too.”

 “Now let me show you just how much,” she said, reaching for the waistband of Bryce’s sweats. He met her eyes with a mischievous grin and let her move down to where she most wanted to be.

“Hey bro! Check out this Nike ad!” This was my entry point into a new world.

…

Since Carlos had lived mostly outside the United States, he was able to follow soccer on a level I’d never encountered in my hometown. Back then, before social media and the advent of scarf-wearing Northwestern fútbol hipsters, big-time European soccer was like the metric system: Known to almost all but ourselves. But Carlos knew, and immediately used LimeWire to curate me a massive archive of 1990s through early 2000s soccer highlights. What was I doing in the world without them?

Oddly enough, in trying to inculcate me in soccer fandom, he started not with game highlights, but with the advertisements. Yes, Carlos was an educator and a voluntary footsoldier for Big Apparel. Going in, I had no clue about high-quality, internationally popular Nike soccer ads. The ads, written by the legendary Wieden+Kennedy firm, were miniature movies, films that were often creatively daring but also quite funny. The most popular of these ads might be “Good vs. Evil,” from 1996, where Nike’s best soccer players team up to play Satan’s literal army. The blending of sacrilege, theology and comedy just worked, like a more ambitious version of Space Jam that somehow took itself less seriously than Space Jam.

…

Yes, I know ads aren’t supposed to be high art. I understand that they are the purest distillation of manipulative greed. And yet, they sometimes are culturally relevant generational touchstones. While Nike was weaving soccer into enduring pop culture abroad, it was having a similar kind of success with basketball and baseball stateside. These ads weren’t just pure ephemera. Michael Jordan’s commercials were so good that, as he nears age 60, his sneaker still outsells any modern athlete’s. “Chicks dig the long ball” is a phrase (a) that can get you sent to the modern HR department and b) whose origins are fondly remembered by most American men over the age of 35.

Modern Nike ads will never be so remembered. It’s not because we’re so inundated with information these days, though we are. And it’s not because today’s overexposed athletes lack the mystique of the 1990s superstars, though they do. It’s because the modern Nike ads are beyond fucking terrible.

…

They’re bad for many causes, but one in particular is an incongruity at the company’s heart. Nike, like so many major institutions, is suffering from what I’ll call Existence Dissonance. It’s happening in a particular way, for a particular reason and the result is that what Nike is happens to be at cross-purposes from what Nike aspires to be.

…

For all the talk of a racial reckoning within major industries, Nike’s main problem is this: It’s a company built on masculinity, most specifically Michael Jordan’s alpha dog brand of it. Now, due to its own ambitions, scandals, and intellectual trends, Nike finds masculinity problematic enough to loudly reject.

This rejection is part of the broader culture war, but it’s accelerating due to an arcane quirk in the apparel giant’s strange restructuring plan, announced in June. Under the leadership of new CEO John Donahoe, Nike is moving away from its classic discrete sports categories (Nike Basketball, Nike Soccer, etc.) in favor of a system where all products are shoveled into one of three divisions: men’s, women’s and kids’. Obviously Nike made clothing tailored to the specificities of all these groups before, but now, Nike is emphasizing gender over sport. Gone is the model of the product appealing to basketball fans because they are basketball fans. It’s now replaced by a model of, say, the product appealing to women because they are women.

And hey, women buy sneakers too. Actually, women buy the lion’s share of clothing in the United States. While women shoppers are market dominant in nearly every aspect of American apparel, the clothing multinational named after a Greek goddess happens to be a major exception. At Nike, according to its own records, men account for roughly twice as much revenue as women do.

You might see that stat and think, “Well, this means that Nike will prioritize men over women in its new, odd, gendered segmentation of the company.” That’s not necessarily how this all works, thanks to a phenomenon I’ll call Undecided Whale. The idea is that a company, as its aims grow more expansive, starts catering less to the locked-in core customer and more to a potential whale which demonstrates some interest. Sure, you can just keep doing what’s made you rich, but how can you even focus on your primary business with that whale out there, swimming so tantalizingly close? The whale, should you bring it in, has the potential to enrich you far more than your core customers ever did. And yeah yeah yeah, a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, but those were birds. This is a damned whale! And so you start forgetting about your base.

You can see this dynamic in other places. For the NBA, China is its Undecided Whale. It could be argued that the NBA fixates more on China than on America, even if the vast majority of TV money comes from U.S. viewership. The league figures it has more or less hit its ceiling in its home country, so China becomes an obsession as this massive, theoretical growth engine.

…

Here’s the main issue for Nike in this endeavor: The company, as a raison d’être, promotes athletic excellence. While women are among Nike’s major sports stars, the core of high-level performance, in the overwhelming majority of sports, is male. Every sane person knows that, though nobody in professional class life seems rude enough to say so. Obviously, there’s the observable reality of who tends to set records and there’s also the pervasive understanding that testosterone, the main male sex hormone, happens to give unfair advantages to the athletes who inject it.

Speaking of which, there’s a famous This American Life episode from 2002 where the public radio journos actually test their own testosterone levels. The big joke of the episode is just how comically low their T levels are. Sure, you would stereotype bookish public radio men in this way, and yet the results are on the nose enough to shock.

As a nerdy media-weakling type, I can relate to the stunning realization that you’ve been largely living apart from T. Before working in the NBA setting, I was an intern in the cubicles of Salon.com’s San Francisco office, around the time it was shifting from respectable online magazine into inane outrage content mill. Going from that setting to the NBA locker room was some jarring whiplash, like leaving the faculty lounge for a pirate ship. To quote Charles Barkley on the latter culture, “The locker room is sexist, racist, and homophobic … and it’s fun and I miss it.”

…

The “Good vs. Evil” ad boasts a “Like” to “Dislike” ratio of 20-to-1 on YouTube. On June 17th of 2021, Nike put out an ad ahead of the Euro Cup that referenced “Good vs. Evil” as briefly as it could. In this case, a little child popped his collar and used Cantona’s catchphrase. As of this writing, the new ad has earned a thousand more punches of the Dislike than of the Like button.

When you see it, it’s no surprise that the latest Euro Cup ad is disliked. I mean, you have to look at this shit. I know we’re so numb to the ever-escalating emanations of radical chic from our largest corporations, but sometimes it’s worth pausing just to take stock and gawk.

…

But today we are in the land of new football, where we take dictatorial direction from less-than-athletic minors. After her announcement, we are treated to a montage of different people who offer tolerance bromides.

“There are no borders here!”

“Here, you can be whoever you want. Be with whoever you want.”

(Two men kiss following that line, because subtlety isn’t part of this new world order.)

Then, a woman who appears to be breastfeeding under a soccer shirt, threatens, in French, “And if you disagree …”

And this is when the little boy gives us Cantona’s “au revoir” line before kicking a ball out of a soccer stadium, presumably because that’s what happens to the ignorant soccer hooligan. He gets kicked out for raging against gay men kissing or French ladies breastfeeding or somesuch. Later, a referee wearing a hijab instructs us, “Leave the hate,” before narrator girl explains, “You might as well join us because no one can stop us.”

Is that last line supposed to be … inspiring? That’s what a movie villain says, like if Bane took the form of Stan Marsh’s sister. Speaking of which, was this ad actually written by the creators of South Park as an elaborate prank? It’s certainly more convincing as an aggressive parody of liberals than as a sales pitch. Why, in anything other than a comedic setup, is a woman breastfeeding in a big-budget Euro Cup ad?

It’s tempting to fall into the pro-vanguardism template the boomers have handed down to us and sheepishly say, “I must be getting old, because this seems weird to me,” but let’s get real. You dislike this ad because it sucks. You are having a natural, human response to shitty art. This a hollow sermon from a priest whose sins were in the papers. Nobody is impressed by what Nike’s doing here. Nobody thinks Nike, a multinational famous for its sweatshops, is ushering us into an enlightened utopia. Sure, most media types are afraid to criticize the ad publicly. You might inspire suspicion that what you’re secretly against is men kissing and women breastfeeding, but nobody actually likes the stupid ad. No college kid would show it to a new friend he’s trying to impress, and it’s hard to envision a massive cohort of Gen Z women giving a shit about this ad either.

Now juxtapose that ad not just against the classics of the 1990s but also the 2000s products that preceded the Great Awokening. Compare it to another Nike Euro Cup advertisement, Guy Ritchie’s “Take It to the Next Level.”

…

Here’s the problem, insofar as problems are pretended into existence by our media class: The ad is very, very male. Really, what we are watching here is a boyhood fantasy. Our protagonist gets called up to the big show, and next thing you know he’s cavorting with multiple ladies, and autographing titties to the chagrin of his date. He can be seen buying a luxury sports car and arriving at his childhood home in it as his father beams with pride. Training sessions show him either puking from exhaustion or playing grab-ass with his fellow soccer bros. This is jock life, distilled. Art works when it’s true and it’s true that this is a vivid depiction of a common fantasy realized.

Nike’s highly successful “Write the Future” ad (16,000 Likes, 257 Dislikes) works along similar themes.

…

The recent Olympic ads were especially heavy on cringe radical chic, and might have stood out less in this respect if the athletes themselves mirrored that tone on the big stage. Not so much in these Olympics. It seems as though Nike made the commercials in preparation for an explosion of telegenic activism, only to see American athletes mostly, quietly accept their medals, chomp down on the gold, and praise God or country. Perhaps you could consider Simone Biles bowing out of events due to mental health as a form of activism, but overall, the athletes basically behaved in the manner they would have back in 1996.

But Nike forged onwards anyway. This ad in celebration of the U.S. women’s basketball team made some waves, getting ripped in conservative media as the latest offense by woke capital.

…

“Today I have a presentation on dynasties,” a pink-haired teenage girl tells us. “But I refuse to talk about the ancient history and drama. That’s just the patriarchy. Instead, I’m going to talk about a dynasty that I actually look up to. An all-women dynasty. Women of color. Gay women. Women who fight for social justice. Women with a jump shot. A dynasty that makes your favorite men’s basketball, football, and baseball teams look like amateurs.”

When she says, “That’s just the patriarchy,” the camera pans to a bust of (I think) Julius Caesar. At another point, the girl says, “A dynasty that makes Alexander the Great look like Alexander the Okay.” Fuck you, Classical Antiquity. Fuck you, fans of teams. You’re all just the patriarchy. Or something.

Nike could easily sell the successful American women’s basketball team without denigrating other teams, genders and ancient Mediterranean empires that have nothing to do with this. Could but won’t. The company now conveys an almost visceral need for women to triumph over men because … well, nobody really explains why, even if it has something to do with Undecided Whaling. In Nike’s tentpole Olympics ad titled “Best Day Ever,” the narrator fantasizes about the future, declaring, “The WNBA will surpass the NBA in popularity!” ​

…

There are theories on the emergence of woke capital, with many having observed that, following Occupy Wall Street, media institutions ramped up on census category grievance. The thinking goes that, in response to the threat of a real economic revolution, the power players in our society pushed identity politics to undermine group solidarity. Well, that was a fiendishly brilliant plan, if anyone actually hatched it.

I’m not so convinced, though, as I’m more inclined to believe that a lot of history happens by happenstance. If we’re to specifically analyze the Nike Awokening, there is a recent top-down element of a mandate for Undecided Whaling, but that mandate was preceded by a socially conscious middle class campaign within the company.

This isn’t unique to Nike, either. Given my past life covering the team that tech moguls root for, I’ve run into such people. They aren’t, by and large, ideological. Very few are messianically devoted to seeing the world through the intersectionality lens. They are, however, terrified of their employees who feel this way. The mid-tier labor force, this cohort who actually internalized their university teachings, are full of fervor and willing to risk burned bridges in favor of causes they deem righteous. The big bosses just don’t want a headline-making walkout on their hands, so they placate and mollify, eventually bending the company’s voice into language of righteousness.

…

All the guilt and atonement transference make for bad art. And so the ads suck. There’s no Machiavellian conspiracy behind the production. It’s just a combination of desperately wanting female market share and desperately wanting to move on from the publicized sins of a masculine past. So, to message its ambitions, the exhausted corporation leans on the employees with the loudest answers.

There’s a lot of interplay between Nike and Wieden+Kennedy when the former asks the latter for a type of ad, but the through line from both sides is a lot of cooks in the kitchen. Based on conversations with people who’ve worked in both environments, there’s a dearth of personnel who are deeply connected to sports. In place of a grounding in a subculture, you’re getting ideas from folks who went to nice colleges and trendy ad schools, the type of people who throw words like “patriarchy” at the screen to celebrate a gold medal victory. The older leaders, uneasy in their station and thus obsessed with looking cutting edge, lean on the younger types because the youth are confident. Unfortunately, that confidence is rooted in an ability to regurgitate liturgy, rather than generative genius. They’ve a mandate to replace a marred past, which they leap at, but they’re incapable of inventing a better future.

…

Ironically, Nike mattered a lot more in the days when its position was less dominant. Back when it had to really fight for market share, it made bold, genre-altering art. The ads were synonymous with masculine victory, plus they were cheekily irreverent. And so the dudes loved them. Today, Nike is something else. It LARPs as a grandiose feminist nonprofit as it floats aimlessly on the vessel Michael Jordan built long ago. Like Jordan himself, Nike is rich forever off what it can replicate never. Unlike Jordan, it now wishes to be known for anything but its triumphs. Nike once told a story and that story resonated with its audience. Now it’s decided that its audience is the problem. It wouldn’t shock you to learn that Carlos hated the new Nike ads I texted to him. His exact words were, “I don’t want fucking activism from a sweatshop monopoly.” He’ll still buy the gear, though, just not the narrative. Nike remains, but the story about itself has run out. Au revoir. 

al horford sleeper agent

—————

anyway by now ive told basically everyone i care about but i had a life changing experience over the weekend. n it sounds dumb as shit but i met a real life dude who was basically a clone of nick from franz. weird hours. guess this is a thread

before we start i want to say i havent thought about franz in weeks. theyve gone away on their own finally but really i think my old obsessions just get replaced every few years and maybe it was my hard work in therapy or my new obsession with rap or

maybe it was just a realization or me growing up and maturing or something but i dont even want to work on my favorite fanfics anymore or anything. it’s just odd. i think im changing

and i don’t think about how my former favorite band members are doing or worry about them or check their socials n it feels really good. but i know there probably is or probably will be a replacement

ok that was a tangent. if they were replaced by anything they were replaced by new friends and the NBA. so there’s the exposition of this story sorted

anyway back to the weekend. the sleeper agent invited me to lunch. and that was the catalyst. god people are being so loud in here let me go to the art library

anyway i just kind of realized "huh i guess there's more out there." i went to lunch n shit. WE went to lunch n shit. stopped caring so much about my math homework. let myself be dumb and in love

that’s a very human thing. lunch. he spilled his stupid chipotle burrito all over his stupid bright green celtics jacket

he’s from italy. never even stepped foot in a chipotle. immediately clowned himself. some world we live in

we hung out all weekend. we went to lunch like two more times and we went to dinner. there was this big threat of leaving looming over my head the whole time. i made him walk like a mile on crutches and i feel very bad about it

i don’t know what’s wrong with him. it’s somewhere between a basketball injury and a chronic disability. either way that just made me feel even more emotionally attached to him. i never saw him without the celtics jacket

it was so cold that weekend. or maybe i just didn’t bring the right jacket. if he were a gentleman he would have offered me the celtics jacket. i didnt even hug him goodbye

and then of course he went back home. theres a million girls all over his instagram comments all the time. theres nothing special about me. he doesn't want to talk. i wrote my ap psych notes in green yesterday bc i was so in love with that stupid celtics jacket

im a sixers fan. the sixers and the celtics have been rivals forever. it was about to be war, except i want to move to boston. but really i want to move to dc. i wish the whole world was philly. things would be less complicated

im in love with a celtics jacket. a celtics jacket. of all teams. and i cant even talk to my basketball friends about it because they think im dumb shit for falling for some celtics fan with a million girls all over his instagram comments all the time

im not like those girls. i don’t think im like those girls. but i definitely exactly am

i have an economics test in fifteen minutes. i think one day ill drown in the atlantic ocean.

the test wasnt that bad. i thought about writing this the entire time. i would just zone out and stare and think about the phrase ‘al horford sleeper agent’

because he has to be. why else would someone put a diehard sixers fan right in front of a diehard celtics fan who looks exactly like the guitarist of their middle school favorite band

in reality i should be calling him a celtics sleeper agent because the whole point is that al horford is a sleeper agent for the celtics. but i hate al horford so i guess it’s more funny to include him in the title

i mean how can one player change so drastically like that? al horford was benched for the first time since his rookie season, like, two weeks ago after being traded to the sixers. how does that happen? why *wouldn’t* he be playing badly so his old friends win the title?

al horford’s gotta be retiring in like, three years, tops. he’s working for the celtics, i know it. and my sleeper agent is trying to convert me to a celtics fan

i understand why people make jokes, though. it’s a very human thing to want to go home. al horford just wants to go home. he lived in boston for however many years let me look it up

god whatever it was only three years i thought it was like eleven that just ruined my point

back to the matter at hand though that’s all we’re trying to do. we all just want to feel at home. we’re all just these little things trying to connect somehow. sometimes we are more desperate than others

i think im pretty desperate right now. sometimes i sit in my bedroom and im like damn when do i get to go home? but im home

i didn’t even want to leave dc. it was all star break and there wasn’t even basketball on. so there i was, in basketball purgatory, wizards territory for some god forsaken reason, losing sleep over a celtics fan and not wanting to go home

and when i say i was losing sleep you better believe me. i was so excited to wake up in the morning that i didn’t want to fall asleep. i wanted to be awake forever, endless, running through the city

i’ll get there soon enough. it’ll be with different people. college, yknow. all that. but sometimes i feel like certain things can’t be replaced.

and im acting like a different person lately. im using my phone at red lights just so i can check for a message from the sleeper agent. it’s always one word responses

yes. ok. maybe. some shit like that. a haha every once in a while. he’s not interested and i should stop trying

and then, INEVITABLY, i send something stupid back, a photo of my hand on the wheel or something, and i get left on read

and i know im stupid for it. everyone i know is screaming at me “disco, you’re dumb shit” but i just want to believe for a minute that im loved, im special

I want to feel like someone out there cares about me that isn’t obligated to, yknow? my mom can say she loves me all she wants but it doesn’t feel as good as some italian celtics fan saying it

some hot italian celtics fan mind you

even if he wasn’t hot or italian it would be nice. and actually it would be better if he liked like, ANY other basketball team

except maybe the knicks

but whatever. main point: i know im dumb shit and should stop trying. but it feels good to feel like if i keep trying maybe i’ll be wanted

sleeper agent is just one of those people tho. he’s magnetic and everyone always wants to be around him. dumb as hell in the most charming way ever. my friends are still all making fun of me

i started crying in a pizza place the other night because even the CONCEPT of italy sent me over the edge. i need to stop before i

wait what’s the word

i need to stop before i immortalize him? no, no

i need to stop before i deify him. soon enough he’s going to be a new canonical character in my head and i’ll start making up legends and stories to myself

we barely knew each other. if i deify him i’ll start telling people he offered me the celtics jacket when it was cold out. he’ll become a perfect gentleman. and he wasnt. he was just some stupid hot italian boy in a bright green jacket

im not going to deify him. it won’t happen. but i love the color green. i always say i love yellow more but i think that’s passed. i wear a green ring on my right ring finger every day. im not going to deify him and i still hate the celtics

overall, the celtics are winning the rivalry. i don’t think the sixers have ever truly been “great,” at least outside of philly. maybe allen iverson. wilt chamberlain. dr j? theyve never had like, a dynasty. idk. i don’t think you’d be able to get a sixers jacket in italy.

it’s his birthday today. i should probably text him. i should probably stop thinking about him. that’s just dumb shit, disco youre better than this what happened to a little self confidence every now and again

sure lets say external validation isnt necessary but also i think that’s something the mindfulness crowd made up to sell more planners and tote bags in 2011. it feels good to be wanted

never waste all your time on it sure. know youre still worth it even when you have no friends and there are a million girls all over his instagram comments. but it does feel good to hear “goodness disco i like how much you like the philadelphia 76ers”

my friends are all making fun of me for being on some romeo and juliet shit because he’s literally from verona and he’s a celtics fan and im a sixers fan god damn it disco why does this always happen

i never even read romeo and juliet but i saw the dreamworks adaptation so i guess ive got the story relatively right i know they die in the end. the gnomes shatter into little pieces i think

anyway tangents aside the sixers won tonight. philly is lit up green. why the hell is philly lit up green? the eagles were done like three months ago and the flyers are orange. why is philly lit up green

oh god, he just snapped me. a zoomed in photo of himself with caption that says “76ers” with like five exclamation points

here we go again, everybody

wish me luck

Kehlani singer on her new album

Kehlani, singer on her new album

Photo: Pari Dukovic

Kehlani

In early March, Kehlani was due to meet his label. She was preparing to release her second album - her first since she had a baby and a return to her roots R-B. She was scheduled to perform the first part of Justin Bieber's Changes tour, as well as a number of dream solo dates. Atlantic executives told him they believed in the album, which was scheduled for release on April 24, its 25th anniversary, but the coronavirus pandemic made it impossible to develop a promotion plan. We'd have to postpone it. "I was casting actors and actresses. I was doing all kinds of things," she says of all the pre-production she had completed at the time of the mid-March meeting. We're talking about a video call from Zoom; Kehlani sits alone in a sunny room in his Los Angeles home. (Later, she will be joined by her dog, a pint of ice cream and a tequila-based drink with a slice of orange coming out). It just so happens that today is the original release date. They said, "We don't think you should take it out,"" she said. "And then I went to my room and made the 'Toxic' video on my laptop." She posted it on YouTube at the end of March. "People messed with it," she adds. When Kehlani's label accepted her request to release the album this month, it was stipulated that she had to do it all herself. "If all we do is make music and press the button, then you can do it," she says. "And I was like, 'Okay, challenge accepted fucking.'" So now Kehlani and her photographer, with whom she's in quarantine, are planning and editing music videos, photoshoots, and album coverage. (She also lives with her daughter, two younger siblings, a close friend and her assistant). His garage has been converted into a two-level studio, one side for music, the other for visuals. Kehlani has been a professional musician since the age of 13. A series of mixtapes - full of overshares about having a heart built and broken - and a random but successful debut album have already made her a leading figure in the industry. His music is R-B in its purest form: songs about how love defeats you, about floating on the pure adrenaline of a crush, about the desire of someone you can't trust in your heart. It's no coincidence that when white artists like Bieber and Charlie Puth want to look into an R-B sound, they call on Kehlani to help them. The new album, It Was Good Until It Wasn't, is part of a revival of the genre in the midst of its fiercest debates. It is also a transition disc, a bridge between adolescence and adulthood. Throughout her career, Kehlani has been considered the daughter of the R-B: sexy but boyish. In her old music, she played with both sides of the binary. On the new record, it got too big. She did so immediately after giving birth to her daughter Adeya, who is now one year old. (She is currently co-parenting with her ex, Adeya's father, Javaughn Young-White, younger brother of Jaboukie from the Daily Show). "People would always be like, Kehlani is adorable or, like, Kehlani is cool hella. But then I had a baby and it made me look more feminine," she says. "So I guess I thought, OK, I'm going to start shaking my ass and talk about it." (She wanted Bieber to do a song for her album, but he refused. "Because he's a super-married guy now, it didn't really fit," she said. Kehlani's self-managed music video for "Toxic", filmed with the only camera on her MacBook, shows the nervous figure of the singer slipping and squirming, rubbing her arms and hips. "Don Julio has ridiculed me for you," she tells her former lover that she won't reach out to him, even if her body urges her to do it out of instinct. Kehlani insists this is not his last relationship, which ended publicly and painfully, with Compton rapper YG earlier this year. It's the kind of personal drama that made headlines and made Kehlani's blog famous. She writes songs that address all of this openly. Her fans grow up with her career because she is transparent, sometimes to excess. Or, as she says, I do in public, and it makes people feel like I'm not a stranger. I'm a person with a human ass. I'm screwing up in front of the whole world." The conversation about the state of the R-B was revived last November, when Lizzo, often considered a pop artist, won album of the year at the Soul Train Awards, beating soul singer Ari Lennox. ("It's clear that I'm not cool enough," Lennox tweeted after his loss. Last February, rapper Young M.A. went further, saying that "we barely have R-B". Indeed, in recent years, the superstars of the genre - like SWV, Boyz II Men, Ginuwine, Toni Braxton - and their musical descendants have mostly failed to stop the charts as they did two decades ago; many contemporary black musicians evade the label, preferring to be called "alternative R-B", while others experiment more with genres that were once declared out of bounds by the guardians. Kehlani, on the other hand, is part of a coterie of artists who maintain the relevant R-B today, alongside newcomers like Summer Walker, Bryson Tiller and Lennox. She has a song for every step of a relationship: going under it, going over it, watching the door ahead, a personal promise to stop texting her. His music seems new - not as a consistent copy of a Brandy song - but the influence is palpable. She finds the current debate about gender - what the R-B is, what it was and where it has gone - boring. It may no longer sound like it did in the 90s, but rappers (think, more recently, Drake) have expanded it beyond the desperate desire (or desperate loves) of the last century. "I think people don't know enough about music to make these kinds of accusations [that the R-B no longer exists]. The R-B is simple lyrics and a great song. Lots of harmonies and batteries and melodic production," she says, as if it were easy. "I'll never be able to make 90s R-B music. I'm never going to be able to make R-B music from the early 2000s, because that's not when I was making music. It wasn't when I experienced things that shaped my words and my sound." Kehlani was born in Oakland and raised by her aunt. His mother struggled with drug addiction, and his father died when he was 24 years old and she was very young. A stint on America's Got Talent put her in touch with Nick Cannon, who paid for her to spend time in the studio to make her first mixtape in 2014. On Cloud 19, you can hear the beginnings of a great talent: his voice is more acute and younger, but it is overflowing with emotion. On the deck of Cloud 19's "As I Am" film, she sings and succeeds in the chorus of a Mary J. Blige classic. A week after the release of her second mixtape in 2015, she signed with Atlantic Records. Kehlani turned to pop with his debut album of 2017, SweetSexySavage, an album full of rushed and half-finished ideas. It was carried out amid a personal mental health crisis, sparked by rumors that she cheated on her ex-boyfriend, NBA player Kyrie Irving, in 2016. The relentless online bullying led her to attempt suicide. (Kyrie Irving later admitted that she had never been unfaithful.) "I started an album as a person and experienced the most traumatic event of my life," she says. Her label held on until the deadline, letting her make an album from songs she barely recognized. "I had no connection with the music," she says. "I was embarrassed about everything." The new record is a reset, closer to the Grammy-nominated mixtapes that made it famous. It Was Good Until It Wasn't Gives you the Pure B-R rush, the R-B "waiting for you to call me", the R-B "the only thing that interests me is you": the hits of Brandy and Monica in the 90s, the classics of Alicia Keys of the early 2000s who fall in love. She is also less affected by the nostalgia of adolescence than by the immediacy of adult desires. His first mixtapes were about childhood and adolescence; It Was Good Until It Wasn't at peace with the way most conflicts or heartaches unfold. The title comes from a conversation with a friend about her recent breakup. That's the life of this, you know? she said. The is good and then it's not good anymore. Although she has been in the industry since she was a teenager, Kehlani has never had any decisive success for her career, and it is unlikely that the new album will deliver one. "F-MU" is hot and dancing, and the collaboration with Canadian R-B star Tory Lanez, "Can I," is a sexy earworm - although neither song seems particularly suited to virality. His greatest successes are gossip blogs that overshadow his music. His three-month relationship with YG ended just after they released a song together proclaiming their love. (Their duet came out on the eve of Valentine's Day 2020; three days later, she released a breakup song after images of him cheating her surfaced). Minutes before one of our calls, Kehlani posted a series of tweets about a feud with another Oakland native, rapper Kamaiyah, who slammed her on Instagram Live about a previously unreleased mixtape and accused her of being a colorist, among other things. "She gave the green light to my family and me and told everyone in Oakland to kill us for a song," Kehlani says. (Kamaiyah later replied, telling Kehlani, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't threaten you," but added that "a green light means going like a fight, not shooting"). A moment after our discussion, she answered a phone call from a friend and nervously asked if her tweets - which had let the rapper know there was no bad blood - were correct, if she had handled the situation properly. Kehlani and Kamaiyah had long argued over a joint mixtape, which was to be released before the release of their two albums. Her production was difficult, and even the basic decisions - how many songs she should have, what it should be called, what the visual aesthetic should be - met, according to Kehlani, with Kamaiyah's resistance. In the end, she had had enough of back and forth, and the mixtape didn't seem as essential to her as the release of her album. When she came back to our call, her mood was appalled. I tried to contact her to do good business and she said, "If the project doesn't come out, you can't have it [one piece]," she says. "Even though I wrote it." Once again, she was swept away in a drama she couldn't control, tweeting clarifications about a quarrel she didn't care about, instead of celebrating the upcoming release of her album. But why challenge a misinterpretation if she is tired of getting carried away by the drama? How can I put this to rest and out of my body? Because I don't want to wear them," Kehlani says. "Even if you never want to piss me off again, how can I make sure you know it's love on this side?" she tweeted Kamaiyah to let the rapper know she wished him the best. She is satisfied with the way she has defused an unexpected quarrel. A few years ago, it would not have been as weighted. It took a lot of to get to this point, she says. The death of two friends in three months has put a lot of things in perspective. Philadelphia rapper Chynna overdosed in April at age 25; Minnesota rapper Lexii Alijai, whom Kehlani considered "a little sister," overdosed on New Year's Day at just 21 years of age. Lexii Alijai was scheduled to perform the first part of the post-Bieber tour as the headliner. "I couldn't believe it because Alijai was so young," she says. "It was a click, it was amazing, it was sad and it was heartbreaking. I'm always trying to find the best way to help them continue their legacy." Being 25 was also more than a quarter of a life. It was a horizon she never thought she would see. "I've always had a strange feeling about being 25 or older," she says. "It's a shock because I'm now older than my father was." that's part of what made It Was Good Until It Wasn't feel like the album she finally grew up on. "I wanted to be 25 on this one," she says.

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Sam Amico - Finally on Top, Writing What He Loves

Sam Amico is a self-professed basketball junkie whose lengthy career in sports journalism now finds the Akron, Ohio native covering the NBA for Sports Illustrated. Yes, that Sports Illustrated. The one most young men and woman growing up in the 1980s and 1990s waited patiently by the mailbox for, only to quickly tear threw the pages and digest the stories within. While magazines and subscriptions aren’t what they used to be, SI is still one of the biggest players in the sports media game, especially for those gifted with the ability to tell a tale via the written word and not relying solely on hot takes and video footage. It’s fitting, as Amico grew up near an NBA city during a time when the Showtime Lakers and the Boston Celtics dominated the scene. There was Larry and Magic, Kareem and Robert. The Bad Boys in Detroit came into their own and a man named Michael took the league, and the world, by storm. The young Amico didn’t have a chance.

Played the Game

He grew into a 5-foot-9 sweet-shooting guard at nearby Cuyahoga Valley Christian Academy in nearby Cuyahoga Falls. He parlayed that success into a two-year stint playing for Northeastern Christian Academy across the street from Villanova in Pennsylvania. While there, he set the school record for most 3-pointers in a game, a mark he’s quick to point out lasted all of there seasons. The school later combined with Ohio Valley College in Parkersburg, W.Va. to become Ohio Valley University. Amico’s old coach, Bill McGee, stayed on board to coach. Amico, meanwhile, turned his attention to his own career. Originally wanting to get into coaching, he quickly realized that he could utilize his best assets, a great sense of humor and even better gift of written gab and combine that with his love of basketball. He quickly said hello to the world of journalism which initially took him out west to Wyoming and a one-man show at a paper in Rawlins, Utah.

The Report

He still feels his proudest moment came two years later, when he wrote a 14-part series on the history of the Wyoming state basketball tournament while working at a paper in Casper. Additional stops including the Bluefield Daily Telegraph, Observer-Reporter in Washington, among others, eventually landed Amico at the Sports Editor at The Intelligencer in Wheeling. Amico experienced success with both the readers and staff. It’s here he began his well-circulated Amico Report, a free newsletter at the time dealing with all things NBA. It was that digital newsletter that eventually catapulted Amico to his current path. He's also a published author, with his first book, "A Basketball Summer" hitting the shelves in 2002, later followed by three more: "Dribbles of Champions," "The Ultimate Basketball Trivia Book," and 'Three-Ball: The History of Basketball's Three Point Shot." He later lost his job in Wheeling due to an incident he takes full responsibility for and worked his way back north to the Cleveland Area, eventually catching on with Fox Sports and Fox Sports Ohio. It was there Amico experienced a renewal not only in his professional life, but also his personal one. Lessons were learned, but Amico found happiness again with a second marriage, as and his new wife brought together their blended family and eventually added a third son to the mix soon after. The Amicos now live in Medina, Ohio. Naturally, basketball is still a big part of their lives.

What got you into sports journalism in the first place? You did seem to gravitate to basketball more so than other sports. Was that just an extension of your playing days and your love for basketball as a whole?

It was indeed my love of basketball that led to my career choice. I never set out to become a writer. At first, I wanted to be a coach. I envisioned myself coaching high school basketball while teaching health or typing or some other fairly mundane course. But I also loved to write. I did it in my free time, just as a hobby. My best friend is several years older and became a sports television anchor, and I'd sometimes tag along with him to work. I was fascinated that you could make a career out of this. I loved basketball and writing always came easiest for me in terms of schoolwork. My roommate in college would stay up all night sweating over his essay for English class and bring back a C-minus. I'd crank something out in an hour, maybe less, and always aced it. (As an aside, he got considerably better grades in every other subject.) So, about my junior year of college, it finally dawned on me—why not put together my passion for basketball with the one thing I seemed to do moderately well? When I figured it out, writing about basketball as a career became my mission.

A billboard advertising the Amico Report for Fox Sports, a report that started as a free newsletter Sam Amico sent out during his days at The Intelligencer in Wheeling.

You eventually became an editor at multiple places. But neither was in a basketball-heavy community in terms of the pro game. Did you have a sense deep down that you’d need to get closer to home, or to a major market, to get to where you wanted to be? Was leaving the Wheeling paper a blessing in disguise in that respect?

To be honest, when I took my first newspaper job in a tiny little Wyoming town, I had no clue what I was doing. I showed up for the first day of work and was immediately told to interview the high school swimming coach. I didn't know anything about swimming, had no idea what to ask. I could barely swim myself. That was the start of a long journey of covering things I had very little knowledge of. In Rawlins, I was a one-man staff. I shot my own photos, wrote 3-5 stories a day, designed my own pages, came up with all the headlines and at times, even helped deliver the paper. Little did I know, it would be great practice for running my own website close to 20 years later. But all the while, yes, I dreamed of getting to an NBA market to cover the NBA. I wasn't obsessed with it, but it was always in the back of my mind, pushing me to work harder and get better. I never had a sense that it would actually happen. My goal once I started writing a lot was to just to do the best job I could and let the chips fall where they may. Eventually, when I landed in Wheeling, I decided to start an NBA email newsletter as a hobby on the side. Writing an email cost nothing and receiving it cost nothing. So, I made nothing. But if I remember correctly, we eventually started running it in the sports section, too. That little newsletter is the very reason I am where I am today, in my 12th year covering the NBA on a full-time basis. I will always be grateful for my time in Wheeling and I look back fondly on it today. Ownership, management, the editors and my co-workers allowed me the freedom to write what I wanted and tackle some interesting topics. It was there that I developed a strong work ethic, and it is one I still try to carry into my assignments today. I learned in Wheeling that there was no place for excuses—just do the job. When I lost my job there, deservedly so, it reminded me about the value of integrity. It was an important reminder and lesson I have not forgotten.

You’d previously written “Basketball Summer” and also kept people up to date with League knowledge via the Amico Report. But once covering the NBA was your full-time job, what was it like being that involved, especially given the Cavaliers were your hometown team? As a journalist, you remain impartial, but growing up a fan, was it difficult to keep the two sides of you separate at first?

Actually, while I grew up outside of Akron, I liked the Cavaliers but never considered myself a huge fan by any stretch. Sadly, I lived and died with the Browns, a lost cause of a franchise that remains near and dear to my heart today. I just happened to like the NBA as a total product, growing up in what I still consider the golden era of Magic, Michael and Larry. By the time I finally became a full-time NBA writer covering my "hometown" team, I had learned how to be impartial. That's one of about 200 reasons why it was a good thing I didn't get the job straight out of college. I had so much to learn about journalism. I had to spend time in the minors before getting to the big leagues. But I also realize that I am sort of an extension of the fans. I didn't celebrate in print when the Cavs won the title in 2016, for instance, but I did write with more enthusiasm and the stories were just more positive by nature. It's always easier to write about a winner. Quite honestly, though, it makes no difference to me. I try to cover the Cavs and NBA with as much fairness and passion as I did when I first got the job. The success and failures of the local team honestly have no bearing on how I approach the job, or even my enjoyment of the job. Sometimes, it's even better when they're bad. When LeBron James is in town, so are about 100 other reporters. When he's not, I'm generally one of about five or six full-time people covering the team.

Sami Amico sits courtside in Cleveland, offering analysis during a Cavaliers game. While still doing some on-air work, his TV time has lessened some since makine the move from FSN to Sports Illustrated.

You wrote for both Fox Sports and Fox Sports Ohio, and on occasion got to do some on-air analysis and interviews. How did that differ from what you were used to and did your public profile blow up further from that? What was the experience like for your sons and wife to see dad on television, talking basketball? Could you foresee a career path that leads to commentary either courtside or in-studio on a full-time basis?

I've been doing television since 2010, less now than most years, but still some. It's quite a bit different because unlike writing, you don't have time to sit down and assemble a thought. The lights come on and you just ... GO. You also don't have a delete key, so whatever you say is out there for forever, especially now in the day of social media. The first time I did it, I was terrified. The second time, I was also terrified. The third time, I didn't even think about it. It just felt natural. My best buddy in TV gave me some good advice: "Look two places, either at the person you're talking to or at the camera. Sit up. Smile. And for the love of Pete, put your hands on the desk and not below it." That was a start. I have also done some stand-up reporting for TV, in which I look at nothing but the camera, hold the mic with one hand and still have no idea what to do with the other. As for my public profile, yes, it did go up a notch locally. The biggest differences I noticed were that total strangers occasionally began asking me for selfies at Cavs games (as opposed to just yelling that I'm a hack), and mostly, the players and coaches and front-office types began calling me by my first name before I had even introduced myself. Earned or not, there's a level respect that you're granted with simply being on TV. That said, it's always been my least favorite part of the job. You have to worry about your hair, about your tie, about how you dress and about not doing natural things like sneezing or yawning. But they ask me to do it and promise a check, so I shut up and make the best of it. It's never been what I set out to do, though. My family thought it was cool at first, but those days are long gone. Unless I take them to the studio, they don't watch. Sometimes even then I'll look over at them during a commercial break and they're staring at their phones. The good news is I have a toddler who is fairly animated when I come on the screen. I figure I have another three or four years before he too finds that part of my job to be old news.

The Amico family, prior to the birth of the third son, is an image of a blended family that can find success in coming together.

Finally, like most kids into sports, you probably grew up reading Sports Illustrated. It was the go-to for sports reporting and feature stories. Working for them now, does the image you might have had in your head match the reality and how has the Amico Report morphed into Amico News in terms of content and readership?

Well, let's put it this way -- when I call a potential source for a story and say I'm from Sports Illustrated, they almost always give me a lot of time, say more interesting things, and are overall just more polite. Between the time I worked for FOX and SI, I launched my own NBA website. Fortunately, my time at FOX provided an audience, and enough of those readers followed me to AmicoHoops to turn it into a full-time job. I actually started to earn more on the website than I did at FOX. Problem was, when you factor in TV work, I was putting in 12-14 hours a day on the website during the season, and that included weekends. It's always nice to run your own thing and be your own boss. I did it for four years with a surprising degree of success. But Sports Illustrated made the decision easy for me. They basically wanted me to move what I had been doing on my site and put their brand behind it. I can also say I have never had more readers. That's not because of anything I'm doing or because I've suddenly reinvented the wheel. It's because everyone knows the name "Sports Illustrated." Overall, I really like their modern direction. They have moved away from the longform pieces (though plenty still remain in the magazine), and have assigned or are in the process off assigning a writer to every team in the country -- NFL, NBA, MLB, the NCAA power conference programs, and even NHL I believe. Readership has increased significantly for SI across all platforms. Not long ago, I started to suspect the brand was dying, but it feels like it's become a player again. My role is actually to cover the entire NBA, while also focusing on the Cavs, much like I did for FOX before they pivoted to video-only in 2015. It's a great role and one I've been comfortable in for at least a decade now. Mostly, I feel very blessed to be where I am in my career and am extremely grateful for each step along the way -- from Wyoming to West Virginia to back where I grew up. Read the full article

The First Day

so this is for the first round of the buzzfeed creation challenge for @thebuzzfeedchallenge and my prompt was the “first day of work”. my partner is @thepossessionofshanemadej, and here it is! the thing i made over the course of like a sick day and a half

(also uhhhh big thanks to @faequill for the au and also for being basically my new parent)

Title: The First Day

Description: Ryan is taken on an... adventure on his first day of work.

TW: none! heavy basketball talk for a little bitch who has never seen a basketball game in his life, god bless him

WC: 2144

AO3 LINK HERE

Ryan pulled up to the gleaming mass of metal, finding a parking space somewhere close. He had his box of stuff with him: a notebook full of semi-fleshed out ideas, a flash drive, some trinkets, a calendar. He took a solemn breath and pushed open the doors, prepared for the worst.

Ryan had heard incredible stories about what went on inside Buzzfeed buildings and, truth be told, he was excited to be involved in a story that involved too many naked coworkers.

And then, he was greeted by an underwhelming “Fuck!” as someone dropped their coffee. The boiling drink splashed up Ryan’s jeans, stinging the skin there.

“I’m so, so sorry,” The man said, blond curls flopping over as he picked up a few of the biggest shards.

Ryan shook himself out of his daze, stooping down to help. “It’s okay.”

As soon as he was done, the man stood up and held out his hand. “I’m Zack.”

“Ryan,” Ryan said shaking Zack’s hand.

Zack glanced at the box Ryan had perched on the rim of a potted plant. “First day?”

Ryan nodded.

“I’m really sorry, man,” Zack grinned apologetically, “Wanna sit by me? I’ve got a spare seat and I promise I’ll try to not spill everything on you.”

“Only if you promise,” Ryan smiled back, feeling like a bit of a foolhardy character in a rom-com. Granted, Zack was an attractive human being, but Ryan wasn’t the kind of person to fall for every pretty face he saw.

Zack, still grinning, led Ryan to the promised empty desk. Ryan quickly spread his stuff out over the desk, as if maybe it’d be taken if he were too slow in unpacking.

“You’re a Lakers fan too?” Zack asked, grinning madly. Ryan gasped, excitedly turning to the other man. “Yeah!”

“Oh my God,” Zack looked at his clock, face falling. “Uhh… I wish I could stay and talk about this, but I have to work on this video. I’m supposed to shoot it today and I don’t even know who I’m gonna have in it!”

Then, as though he’d just realized who he was talking to, Zack’s face lit up again. “You could be in it - you’re an intern, right?”

Ryan nodded hesitantly.

“Don’t be shy - it’s the opportunity of a lifetime, c’mon,” Zack grabbed Ryan’s arm and yanked him along. Ryan tailed after the taller man, the linoleum floor rising up to meet their sneakers. In retrospect, Ryan had wanted an adventure.

Ryan found himself in a small faded green car, fabric seats worn and fast food trash littered around the floor.

“Sorry, my car is kind of a mess,” Zack apologized, brushing garbage off of the passenger seat. Ryan sat down, buckling up as Zack explained the video.

Zack started the car. “So my idea was that we could have a few guys meet some professional basketball players - y’know, watch ‘em play up close and then like hang out for a day. And, wouldn’t ya’ know, the NBA was totally cool with that!”

Ryan blinked.

“So, I wanted to direct, and there were three players on the Lakers who really wanted to do it. I’m stoked, Garrett’s stoked, Jen’s stoked -”

“Woah, so which Lakers player am I meeting?” Ryan asked.

Zack had Ryan pull his notes out of his bag and tell him which player he didn’t match someone up with. “No fucking way -”

“It’s Madej, isn’t it?” Zack interrupted Ryan’s exclamation.

Ryan’s voice came way too close to a squeal when he replied. “Yeah.”

And then, the insecurity set in. He was meeting Shane Madej, and he was wearing a dumb graphic tee and coffee-stained jeans.

“You’re gonna do great!” Zack reassured, turning to violently honk at the mountain of traffic. Ryan let out a shaky breath, groaning into his palms.

Soon enough, though, Ryan looked up at the Staples Center, the red letters glaring down at him through the bright morning sun.

“This is just gonna be a practice,” Zack said, “So this place is pretty much just us and the people who have to be there all the time.”

Ryan was awestruck as he entered the main floor, where the Lakers were practicing. The tech and film crew for the shoot were already there, setting up a few tripods and some lights. A shorter woman and an astonishingly tall man were sitting on the bench.

“Sorry we’re late,” Zack grinned, one of the cameras swiveling around to face him and Ryan, “This is Ryan, the poor intern I’ve dragged along for his first video.”

“Aw,” Jen grinned, “He’s cute.”

“Thanks,” Ryan’s face flushed, and he realized how dumb his glasses looked. He handed the papers Zack had had him carry back to their owner and took his seat on the bench by Jen and who he could only assume was Garrett.

Jen patted his shoulder. “You’ll do fine. Who’re you hanging with?”

“Madej,” Ryan murmured, and Jen’s eyes got huge.

“Dude,” She gaped, “He’s so cool. Lucky duck!”

“Oh, like you got stuck with Lonzo Ball,” Ryan rolled his eyes, watching the practice. Jen laughed next to him, and after a solid five seconds of pretending to be mad, Ryan broke too.

“I have never watched a Lakers game in my life,” Garrett interjected, “And yet, this is somehow the best day of my life.”

They spent the next three hours joking and - maybe this was just Ryan - watching the… athletic prowess of the basketball players. So, okay, maybe Michael Jordan in Space Jam was Ryan’s sexual awakening, but was that really Ryan’s fault?

The end of rehearsal came too fast and, yet, not fast enough. Everyone sort of pittered to a stop, grabbing towels and water bottles. Shane Madej even stopped in front of Ryan to introduce himself.

“Hi!” He grinned, “I’m Shane Madej. Who are you?”

Ryan, who had been expecting ‘are you the idiot they signed me up to go to Starbucks with’ stuttered out, “Y - yes?”

Shane started laughing, and Ryan desperately tried to correct himself. “Sorry - sorry, I mean - my name is Ryan Bergara! I’m sor -”

“Don’t sweat it,” Shane said through tears of laughter, “That’s the hardest I’ve laughed in ages. You ready? I take maybe half an hour to cool down and change out, and after that I think they want us to go to, like, lunch or whatever.”

Ryan nodded. “Oh, yeah. Sweet.”

Shane left, and Ryan buried his face in his hands. Jen patted him on the shoulder awkwardly.

“At least it’ll make a good video,” Ryan grumbled into his hands, voice muffled. Jen made a noise of affirmation, and soon, Ryan had devolved to playing a game on his phone. Shane appeared, looking alarmingly normal for someone who was on the Lakers - the Lakers! - wearing a hoodie and jeans.

“Ready?” Shane asked, a twinkle in his eye. Ryan felt something in his heart twist in a not-unpleasant way, and he nodded and grinned back.

Ryan suggested an Italian place - Cafe Palermo. Shane agreed, pulling it up on Google Maps and pulling out of the employee parking lot at the Staples Center.

They finally got to the Cafe, and it was a cute little place, with checkered tile and tables outside.

“Wanna sit out here?” Shane asked, sitting down at a circular table. After checking them in, Ryan joined him, looking at the menu. The waitress came out, a young woman with curly black hair and a polite smile.

“Hi, I’m Veronica, I’ll be your server. What can I get for you gentlemen?” She asked, holding up the notepad, “Anything to drink?”

Ryan got a Fanta and Shane just got water, and Veronica went back inside for a while.

“So…” Ryan began, absolutely buzzing with adrenaline.

Shane looked bemusedly at Ryan as Ryan asked so many basketball questions Shane almost didn’t know what to do with him. Shane replied as short as he could every time, hoping to speed through questions about his job.

And after a while, Ryan seemed to catch up on that. “Sorry, dude, if this is like, boring, or -”

“Hey, it’s okay!” Shane grinned, “It’s just… look, I get asked these questions every day. I know you want to hear it right from the horse’s mouth, but so does every reporter in existence. I’m kinda tired of talking about my day job, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Ryan nodded, silent for a moment. “Why don’t you ask me questions, then? We’re supposed to be hanging out, right? I’m not interviewing you.”

Shane was quiet and thoughtful as he asked his questions. “Where are you from?”

“SoCal,” Ryan replied, chin resting on his hand. They chatted for a while until Ryan brought up the one subject he’d hoped Shane didn’t disagree with him on.

“... Woah, woah, woah,” Shane interrupted, “You believe in ghosts?”

“You don’t?”

Shane peered at Ryan over his water, dumbfounded. “Yeah, I’m not an idiot -”

Before they continue, Veronica interrupted them. “Are you ready to order?”

And they got what they wanted, and they went right back to arguing. The heated debate lasted for another good hour and a half, with intermittent breaks for eating and glaring at each other without much fire behind their eyes. In fact, Ryan would say that Shane was growing on him

“Stop for coffee before I take you back to work?” Shane asked as Ryan sipped on the last refill of his Fanta. Ryan nodded, and Shane took him to Starbucks.

“Man, I can feel myself getting whiter,” Ryan joked as he walked into the store. They both got their usuals and piled back into Shane’s car.

“How do you stand this thing?” Ryan asked, “You’re, like, a giant.”

Shane joked back. “Watch it, Bergara. It’s not my fault you obviously didn’t eat your greens.”

“Oh, yeah, and I’m sure you grew up eating nothing but kale and green beans,” Ryan said, pouting mockingly and taking a sip of his latte.

Shane snorted. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve eaten.”

“And what would that be?”

“I dunno, Ry, there’s just so many good contenders,” Shane said, and in that moment Ryan truly knew what it was like when people talked about butterflies in their stomachs, electricity down their spines. And, of course, Shane had to follow it with the least sexy sentence imaginable. “Like, this one time, I just fucking took a bite out of a pumpkin.”

“And suddenly, everything about you makes sense,” Ryan exclaimed, “Your head is actually just a pumpkin!”

“Asshole,” Shane remarked, drumming his fingers on the dashboard as there was a lull in the conversation. It wasn’t awkward, Ryan realized, it was just like they were two pieces of a puzzle clicking into place and they didn’t need to talk all the time.

“I liked hanging out with you,” Ryan admitted as Shane pulled into the parking lot of the Buzzfeed office.

“You too, little guy,” Shane smiled, pulling Ryan in for a one-armed hug after he’d parked.

“You’re still a dick.”

“And you’re still an asshole.”

“We’ll have to do this again.”

“Yeah.”

And with that, Shane was pulling away, and Ryan felt panic shoot through his body.

Fuck, thought Ryan, in his coffee-stained jeans and shitty t-shirt and Nike tennis shoes, I don’t have his phone number!

Now melancholy, Ryan trudged back into the office, feeling deflated and exhausted after the eventfulness of his first day. It was only after lunch, everyone else slowly meandering back into the office. Ryan plopped down at his desk, Zack still not back to fill the space between him and the guy on Zack’s left.

“Justin,” He said curtly, introducing himself and letting Ryan do the same before going back to his project. Slowly, Ryan turned on the computer, throwing his empty latte into the trash can under his desk. He drummed his fingers on the desk, letting his reality catch up to him.

It wouldn’t be eventful all the time, and it wouldn’t be Meeting A Basketball Star You’ve Had A Crush On Since He Was In The NCAA big, but it would be good. Ryan thought it would be good, anyway.

Then, he realized that there was something smudged onto his hand. Sharpie, from his coffee. He figured he’d never looked at how the barista had written his name - Shane had gone and gotten both of their drinks. He looked at it, turning it over to see two different styles of handwriting.

One had his name on it - and the other had a phone number.

call me, since you seem to think ur hot shit ;)

And then, it was decided that as long as Ryan lived, there really wouldn’t be a day that lived up to that one. He’d peaked.

Of course, he’d say differently later. But, then again, he’d still have six and a half years to go until Shane proposed.

Famous Sports Gamblers

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Only few gamblers have been able to do that and I am going to introduce you to the top 10 best players and teams who have beat the system. 10.Ron harris Ronald Dale Harris was a programmer who seeks the hole in the online gambling while working for Nevada State Gambling. The sports line eventually led to a 12-year stint on the CBS Sunday morning show, The NFL Today, a pregame show for National Football League (NFL) games. Known simply as 'Jimmy the Greek,' he would appear in segments with sportscaster Brent Musburger and predict the results of that week's NFL games. While already famous in gambling circles, his rough charm made him into a minor celebrity. Las Vegas sports betting legend Bill Walters has never had a losing year - a winning a streak that's made odds makers call him the 'most dangerous sports bet.

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Sports betting is full of emotion: There’s the thrill of anticipation when placing a bet, and the excitement when you win. But there are two sides to every coin, and sports betting is as much about losing as it is about winning.

The flip side of the all the fun stuff is the sickening disappointment when your bet falls flat. Imagine that feeling when you’ve staked a few million! We’re taking a look at some of the most shocking losses in sports betting history. Read it and weep (and just be thankful it wasn’t you)!

Don’t forget to check out the biggest wins in sports betting history to lift your spirits afterwards!

Vegas Dave’s ‘Cupcake’ Loss

First up is David Oancea, better known as Vegas Dave. This prominent sports bettor is renowned for boasting on his Instagram account about his big bets and even bigger wins on long-shot bets.

However, he had to eat humble pie in 2016, when he bet $1 million on female MMA champion, Miesha ‘Cupcake’ Tate at the UFC 200. Tate faced Amanda Nunes in a battle to retain her bantamweight belt. Within three minutes and 16 seconds of the first round, Tate was overpowered by a rear-naked choke, losing the title to Nunes (and losing Vegas Dave a million bucks).

Oancea seemed to take it in his stride though, and posted that he was more concerned about Tate’s broken nose than he was about the money. Not sure we would be so calm about losing a cool million, but when you have it to bet, you certainly have it to lose.

Michael Jordan Plays an Expensive Hole

The NBA legend is a notorious gambler. In fact, Jordan’s early retirement is said to have been a secret suspension due to his gambling antics.

It’s not surprising that he racked up the $1.2 million debt in the first place though…

In a tell-all book, ‘Michael & Me: Our Gambling Addiction…My Cry For Help!’ betting buddy Richard Esquinas described one incident of Jordan losing $1.2 million to a businessman after a 10-day golf and betting binge. He apparently managed to recoup some through play, managing to negotiate it down to $300,000.

It’s not surprising that he racked up the $1.2 million debt in the first place though, when he’s known to play a single hole for $100,000.

Maybe Michael should take his own advice and keep things “fun and entertaining.” Then again, there’s nothing boring about losing $1.2 million.

Brit Bets His Winnings and Loses

Steven Richards is a British roofing contractor who’s also is an avid sports fan and bettor. In 2013, he was enjoying an amazing accumulator bet which started with a £10 ($13) bet.

By successfully predicting the winners of 12 rugby matches, Richards brought his total up to £38,970 (approx. $52,800). The luck obviously went to his head and, a week later, Steven decided to bet on one more rugby match. Not the £10 bet of before, but a whopping $30,000 on Wales to beat Australia.

Had they have won, he would have been £55,000 richer, but alas, Australia won with a 30-26 victory at the Millennium Stadium, Wales.

His winnings from the week before had barely touched his account before it was all gone again. That’s gotta hurt!

Birdman’s Double Whammy

Big-time bettor Birdman wasn’t a happy hip-hop star after a spectacular loss on Super Bowl bets. Twice.

A lifelong New England Patriots fan (and well-known for his social media boasts), Birdman declared that he was ready to put $5 million on the Pats during the Super Bowl XLVI. When one sportsbook called his bluff, inviting him to put his money where his mouth is, Birdman was uncharacteristically quiet.

He did, however, take a ‘smaller’ $1 million bet on the game against 50 Cent. Unfortunately for Birdman, the New York Giants won the game with 21-17, making him a little less rich and ‘Fiddy’ a little more so.

It seems Birdman didn’t learn his lesson, and when Super Bowl LII came around, he was back on Instagram, boasting about a $100,000 bet with Philly rapper AR-Ab. There were subsequent posts which raised the bet total to $200,000, but they mysteriously disappeared.

Once again, Birdman backed his beloved Patriots to defeat AR-Ab’s Philadelphia Eagles. The Eagles were victorious with a 41-33 win, and Birdman was a loser once again.

Daredevil Matthew Webb

Of course, sports betting and losing spectacularly is not a new phenomenon. This one dates back to 1883, with British daredevil and gambler, Matthew Webb.

Webb rose to fame as the first man in history to swim across the English Channel. He made his living by betting against the public for various swimming challenges. He once won £400 (a huge sum in those days) by swimming for 74 hours straight.

On July 24, 1883, Webb entered the water and was never seen again. Quite possibly, the largest sports betting loss of all time.

In 1881, he moved to America and had a few successful challenges, but money was running out. He decided he had to up the stakes. He invited bets that he could swim across the whirlpool of the Niagara Falls. The bet was staked at $10,000 and on July 24, 1883, Webb entered the water and was never seen again. Quite possibly, the largest sports betting loss of all time.

Losers, Weepers

For most of these guys, losing a million isn’t such a big deal, but it would make any casual bettor cry! We’d love to say we’ve never felt the pain of a sports betting loss, but we’d be lying. It happens to the best of us.

Famous Sports Gamblers Books

But that doesn’t mean you can’t improve your record betting on sports. Check out our comprehensive guide to sports betting strategy to start betting like a sharp, or master a particular sports with our in-depth series of articles covering how to bet on sports.

William Billy Walters was born on July 15th, 1946. Although many know him as Billy Walters, the sports bettor, his influence on the gambling industry reaches much further than that. This man’s career was filled with ups and downs, and although he claims to be officially retired, one can never deny his impact on the industry. His legendary status is something that many gamblers will talk about for decades to come.

If you look back to his childhood, you will soon realize that Billy is one of those people who gamble not for the sake of money, but for the thrill. The first time this legendary bettor decided to gamble was when he was only 9. And although he continued to lose subsequently, he didn’t quit at any point. You may think this is because he was a stubborn child, but Billy knew something we didn’t — gambling takes practice. As much as we want to believe that gambling is all about sheer luck, it really isn’t. If you genuinely wish to find out who Billy Walters is, you first need to find out all the amazing things this man has done.

During his life, Walters made a lot of achievements — he even managed to go to prison. In 2017, the authorities found out that Walters was trading with inside information. This brought him a lot of profit — over $30 million to be exact. And although the price was high to pay, Billy remains unbothered. For now, he is still in the Federal Prison of Pensacola, and his release is set for February 14th, 2022.

Top Gamblers In The World

In all this, it is essential that we focus more on Billy Walters the gambler than on his infamous moments. People make mistakes — the only difference is how public or drastic they are. I created this blog out of my admiration for Mr. Walters. He taught me a lot about gambling and life in general. Moreover, I even learned just how much these two are intertwined in ways that I never even imagined before.

So welcome to my blog — you will be able to find everything about this legendary gambler on my website. Hopefully, just like me, the famous sports gambler Billy Walters will teach you plenty of lessons. Most importantly, he can teach you how to win the ultimate gambling game that is life.

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Also, check Billy Walters wiki page.

NBA mock draft 2021: SB Nation bloggers make picks for their teams

It’s time for the SB Nation NBA mock draft with picks made by our team communities.

The NBA playoffs are over, the Milwaukee Bucks are champions, and it’s officially time to roll into draft season. The 2021 NBA Draft is going down on Thursday, July 29.

Now it’s time for the annual SB Nation NBA mock draft. Each of our NBA team communities made a selection for their club in the first round. Trades were not allowed.

For more draft coverage, check out our top-30 player rankings from Ricky O’Donnell. You can find complete draft coverage from our team communities at our NBA draft hub.

The Detroit Pistons are on the clock with the No. 1 overall pick, and so is our Pistons community Detroit Bad Boys. There isn’t much mystery around the top pick this year.

1. Detroit Pistons - Cade Cunningham, G, Oklahoma State

Cade is not a no-brainer No. 1 pick. The athleticism is a concern and the shooting inside the arc is a red flag. But the skill level is undeniable. He’s a high-level passer, has really good court awareness on the offensive and defensive end and has the height and wingspan to be an impact player on both ends. He is the kind of player who could look way better outside the confines of the NCAA, and if that happens it means he’s a franchise-level talent. On the chances Detroit trades down? Well, you don’t win the lottery and spend your winnings on more lottery tickets. Just take the best player on your board. For me, that’s Cade. — Sean Corp, Detroit Bad Boys

2. Houston Rockets - Jalen Green, G, G League Ignite

Ridiculous high upside, would form a great backcourt alongside Kevin Porter Jr., and Evan Mobley feels slightly redundant with Christian Wood on the roster, so Green is the pick. He has the potential to be a top scorer in the league, and you just can’t pass up on that type of upside with the Rockets light on top-end talent. He’s just 19, so he will need some development, but he’s been playing against grown men in the G-League, so he’s already much further ahead than your typical 19-year-old. — Darren Yuvan, The Dream Shake

3. Cleveland Cavaliers - Evan Mobley, C, USC

Evan Mobley is a no-brainer for the Cavs at No. 3. Some consider him a worthy No. 1 overall pick and someone you can build around going forward. Is there some slight redundancy with him and Jarrett Allen, who is likely to sign a lucrative contract this offseason? Yes. But Cleveland cannot afford to be picky and the right coach and organization can pair Mobley and Allen and build a really solid unit with those two anchoring the frontcourt. Mobley’s upside as a frontcourt playmaker and offensive hub also differentiates from from Allen. Green woulld be in the running too had he not been picked at No. 2. But with the board how it is, Mobley is the eashy pick. — Chris Manning, Fear the Sword

4. Toronto Raptors - Jalen Suggs, G, Gonzaga

To a certain extent, the choice for the Raptors at no. 4, which already represents a significant lucky break for the franchise, is an easy one. In a draft class with four names at the top, and three players rotated through picks 2-4 in various combinations, there really is no wrong choice. In this, given what’s already happened here, the Raptors will happily select Jalen Suggs as their point guard for today — and tomorrow. To be clear, this selection works even if Kyle Lowry returns to the team. And if Lowry leaves, well then, the Raptors get another young talented guard who can run a team and defend like hell — with a listed 6’4” height to boot. That Suggs will be paired with Fred VanVleet and the up-and-coming Malachi Flynn in the Raptors’ backcourt is pure gravy. Like I said, this is all a lucky break for Toronto. Suggs will fit right in with the squad. — Daniel Reynolds, Raptors HQ

5. Orlando Magic - Jonathan Kuminga, F, G League Ignite

I gave Scottie Barnes a long look here (and I think the Magic will as well - high character, length, position versatility). But I also think there would be some redundancy in picking Barnes with Jonathan Isaac and Chuma Okeke already on the roster. Ultimately, I went with Jonathan Kuminga. He’s a huge project, but his size, potential to create offense for himself, and his defensive upside is too much to pass up here. — Aaron Goldstone, Orlando Pinstripe Post

6. Oklahoma City Thunder - Scottie Barnes, F, Florida State

Considering where OKC is at, if they can still get Barnes that would be a win. His stock has been rising recently. If OKC is going to continue to build on Dag’s positionless basketball where all five guys can handle the ball, Barnes fits that mold. Plus he’s arguably the most versatile defender this class and with the NBA becoming more switch heavy, you need a guy who can defend guards, wings & bigs. — Clemente Almanza, Welcome to Loud City

7. Golden State Warriors - Davion Mitchell, G, Baylor

Assuming the Warriors keep their duet of lottery picks, they find themselves in an awkward position: do they try to add high-ceiling prospects who can be core members of the next era of Warriors basketball, or do they aim for more NBA-ready players who can help a championship core maximize on their chances of winning another title in the next two years? Mitchell helps the Warriors put a foot in both pools. He has the ceiling to be a high-quality starter down the road, but at 22 and with strong defensive chops already, can be a contributor immediately. — Brady Klopfer, Golden State of Mind

8. Orlando Magic - Moses Moody, F, Arkansas

I don’t feel great about my pick for Orlando at number five, but I’m a big fan of this selection. Moody is exactly the type of prospect Orlando should be looking to pair alongside their stable of combo-guards and bigs. I love his range shooting upside and defensive potential moving forward. I considered Bouknight here as well, but Moody is a perfect fit and too strong of an option to pass up. — Aaron Goldstone, Orlando Pinstripe Post

9. Sacramento Kings - Jalen Johnson, F, Duke

Admittedly, I was hoping Scottie Barnes fell to No. 9, but Jalen Johnson is as good of a consolation prize as the Kings could ask for. Johnson isn’t as safe as a pick as some of the other players that were still available — most notably Franz Wagner and Josh Giddey — but he arguably has the most star potential of anyone left and if there’s anything Sacramento would welcome in the coming years, it’s a homegrown star; particularly one that fits alongside De’Aaron Fox and Tyrese Haliburton. To me, Johnson fits that bill with his playmaking ability, raw athleticisim and defensive instincts. — Christian Rivas, Sactown Royalty

10. New Orleans Pelicans - Franz Wagner, F, Michigan

If the 10th overall pick is kept, the Pelicans will seek out a versatile rookie who complements their two cornerstones in Brandon Ingram and Zion Williamson. Franz Wagner projects to be an ideal fit, offering in time a valuable 3-and-D component but with upside. Despite spending two years at Michigan, he’ll only turn 20 in August. Additionally, there’s a real chance he develops into an above average playmaker — Wagner finished with a better AST:TOV ratio than many shot creators who will be selected ahead of him in this draft, including Giddey, Green, Cunningham and Suggs. — Oleh Kosel, The Bird Writes

11. Charlotte Hornets - James Bouknight, G, UConn

The Hornets have a glaring need at center, and many fans and pundits expect they’ll target that position with a lottery pick. However, the Hornets spent two second round picks on centers last year, and they may want to use free agency to find a quicker fix. Their wing depth was strained last season, and Malik Monk’s pending free agency won’t help that. Bouknight can immediately shore up the depth at that position while adding some scoring punch on the perimeter. — Jonathan DeLong, At the Hive

12. San Antonio Spurs - Josh Giddey, G, Adelaide 36ers (Australia)

Giddey is the perfect blend of best player available and upside swing. While his lack of range won’t do much to help San Antonio’s abysmal three-point numbers, he’s only 18-years-old and has plenty of time to develop a jumper under legendary shooting coach Chip Engelland. The oversized Australian point guard is one of the best passers in this class, and with DeMar DeRozan possibly on the way out, the Spurs could use another distributor. He won’t lead the Silver and Black to a title anytime soon, but he was a nightly triple-double threat in the increasingly competitive NBL, which turned out productive rookies LaMelo Ball and R. J. Hampton. Should he fall this far, PATFO could be looking at another infamous draft day heist. — Noah Magaro-George, Pounding the Rock

13. Indiana Pacers - Jared Butler, G, Baylor

If the Pacers don’t use the 13th pick to trade down or up or out of the draft in order to bring in another player, they will likely be standing pat with the bulk of their current playing rotation which, when healthy, doesn’t leave a ton of minutes for a rookie, but they still need to look to the future for a point guard or combo forward. I hoped to swing for the fences with Roko Prkacin, an 18-year-old Croation combo forward but after he bailed on the draft, I went with Jared Butler, a strong point guard with good size who can show up on both ends of the floor similar to Jrue Holiday. Butler has health concerns which didn’t hold him back at Baylor and he was recently cleared by the NBA to play. There’s no doubt he can play in the NBA is worth the risk for the Pacers to solidify their backup point guard situation since T.J. McConnell is a free agent and Aaron Holiday has struggled to seize that role over the past couple of years. — Tom Lewis, Indy Cornrows

14. Golden State Warriors - Alperen Şengün, C, Beşiktaş (Turkey)

The Warriors were able to snag an NBA-ready prospect with the No. 7 pick, so now it’s time to swing for someone with more risk but great reward. The Warriors Alen Smailagić experiment failed, and last year’s James Wiseman pick is either disappointing or TBD, depending on who you ask. Sengün has star power — he has a diverse array of low post moves, possesses some divine passing chops for a big man, and won the Turkish SuperLeague MVP at just 18. The Warriors revamped developmental staff, which includes Dejan Milojević, the Serbian national team assistant coach credited with playing a large role in Nikola Jokić’s development, will have a chance to turn Sengrün into the steal of the draft. — Brady Klopfer, Golden State of Mind

15. Washington Wizards - Corey Kispert, F, Gonzaga

The Wizards need to improve their three point shooting given that they were 22nd in the league in accuracy and 29th in threes made last season. Kispert has been one of the nation’s top shooter in each of the last two seasons, shooting over 40 percent and averaging at least two made threes per game and never had a usage rate of above 20 percent until his senior season.. Though Kispert is a little “old” as a four-year player, the Wizards need someone who can make an impact right away at one of their weaknesses. Based on the players available, Kispert will fit their void at the three point line nicely. — Albert Lee, Bullets Forever

16. Oklahoma City Thunder - Keon Johnson, G, Tennessee

He’s super raw, really athletic and we didn’t expect him to fall this far. Johnson might be something special and it’s a swing worth taking. Keon Johnson at 16 is too good of value to pass up on. A high upside guard and wing combo that is worth the risk. Johnson’s elite athleticism was on display when he broke the NBA Combine’s record for vertical leaps at 48 inches. Another added bonus to the pick is that he should be able to help contribute to OKC getting a top pick next draft as well since he’ll need time to develop and refine his skills. — Sarah Dewberry, Welcome to Loud City

17. Memphis Grizzlies - Trey Murphy III, F, Virginia

The Memphis Grizzlies as currently constructed do not need a player that needs to help them right now. They’re one of the deepest rosters in the NBA - they can afford to, for the first time in the Zach Kleiman Era, take a swing at a player who perhaps is not ready made for the rotation of a playoff contender. Enter Trey Murphy III, who despite playing three years of college basketball is still an uncertainty due to his transfer from Rice to UVA. His numbers for the Cavaliers are not other worldly. But he projects to be a very good NBA three point shooter who can create for himself and others off the dribble with 6’9” height. His game has room to grow in several spots. But at #17 overall? You can do a lot worse...especially considering the Grizzlies do not need him to be a contributor immediately. — Joe Mullinax, Grizzly Bear Blues

18. Oklahoma City Thunder - Isaiah Jackson, C, Kentucky

Jackson won’t need many touches and can impact the game in other ways. An athletic big who can develop into a defensive anchor for the team. The Thunder will not to help improve his shooting, but the canvas is basically blank with him at just 19 years of age. At the minimum, he should be a good, rim running big that can rebound and protect the rim. — Sarah Dewberry, Welcome to Loud City

19. New York Knicks - Tre Mann, G, Florida

If the Knicks keep their two first-round picks, they will undoubtedly be looking for some scoring punch. They were a middling offense last season even before all their shooters forgot how to shoot in their first-round defeat to Atlanta. Tre Mann was a premier bucket-getter last season at Florida, and could help mitigate the loss of Alec Burks in free agency. — Joe Flynn, Posting and Toasting

20. Atlanta Hawks - Kai Jones, C, Texas

Atlanta sticks with their ‘best player available’ strategy with the selection of Kai Jones. Jones is a versatile big who some consider a top-10 talent in the draft, and ideally would be part of the Hawks’ frontcourt rotation of the future along with Onyeka Okongwu and John Collins (if he’s resigned later this Summer). Hawks GM Travis Schlenk has shown throughout his tenure that he has little to no interest in drafting for need, so while backup point guard options like Jaden Springer were tempting, it’s difficult to pass on a talent like Jones. — Zach Hood, Peachtree Hoops

21. New York Knicks - Sharife Cooper, G, Auburn

Sharife Cooper may be tiny, but the kid can dish the rock like nobody else in this draft. The freshman from Auburn averaged 8.1 assists in his one year in the SEC. If he can fix his jump shot, he might be the rare undersized PG to make a splash in the modern NBA. And no team needs a PG more the the Knicks. — Joe Flynn, Posting and Toasting

22. Los Angeles Lakers - Usman Garuba, F, Real Madrid (Spain)

I get why Lakers fans would want a 3-point shooter with the No. 22 pick, I do. But the thought of Frank Vogel rolling out a super-switchy, small-ball lineup with Anthony Davis and Usman Garuba in three year’s time was too exciting to not act on. Garuba has the size to play either forward positions, the wingspan to protect the interior and the lateral quickness to guard the perimeter — he has all of the tools to be an elite defender in the NBA. His offense leaves a lot more to be desired — particularly his shooting — but he can put the ball on the floor and make plays for his teammates at a high level, which is a good quality to have for a guy his size. He’s a steal at No. 22 even if he’s not exactly what the Lakers need. — Christian Rivas, Silver Screen and Roll

23. Houston Rockets - Miles McBride, G, West Virginia

Houston needs a backup point guard and McBride should be able to fill that role just fine. This is somewhat of a value pick for the Rockets, as McBride is going in the teens in many mock drafts. He’s an excellent defender and has great scoring ability, though he does need some work running the offense. But that skill set should fit in perfectly off the bench, providing some offensive punch and using his athleticism to defend either guard spot. — Darren Yuvan, The Dream Shake

24. Houston Rockets - JT Thor, F, Auburn

After passing on Evan Mobley earlier in the draft, the Rockets need a big with some potential, and many think Thor has some of the best long-term potential in the draft. A plus athlete and defender, Thor does need some polishing on the offensive side, but also possesses an accurate shot, making him a threat from three, the pick and pop, and is solid at the free throw line. A high energy 4/5 hybrid, Thor is an adept switcher, capable of guarding smaller players, and should earn playing time right away on a rebuilding Rockets squad. — Darren Yuvan, The Dream Shake

25. Los Angeles Clippers - Jaden Springer, G, Tennessee

The Clippers don’t have a lot of first-round picks coming up, so going for the high-upside play this season makes a lot of sense, and Springer is the youngest collegian in the draft. He plays with high energy and makes quick decisions, both of which are hallmarks of Clippers role players, and his forays to the rim should be more successful with L.A.’s spacing. Springer was also a force defensively in college, and his tools should translate. If the Clippers player development staff can fix his shot like they did with Terance Mann, they’ll have a real player. — Sabreena Merchant, Clips Nation

26. Denver Nuggets - Chris Duarte, G, Oregon

The Nuggets break from their mold of selecting younger players in the draft by instead selecting Duarte, a 24-year-old shooting guard who fits their roster well. The Nuggets have multiple point guards they trust, but in the event that Will Barton doesn’t return, the wing position is decidedly thin. Duarte provides an element of 3-and-D potential to a roster that desperately needs it, and adding him to a roster that already features Nikola Jokić, Jamal Murray, and Michael Porter Jr. means he can focus on what he’s best at: shooting and defense. — Ryan Blackburn, Denver Stiffs

27. Brooklyn Nets - Ziaire Williams, F, Stanford

For this pick, if I’m the Nets I’m looking for someone with tons of upside potential who may have fallen on draft night and the only real caveat is that this player is a supreme athlete who can keep up with Brooklyn’s pace. Enter, Ziaire Williams. Williams had a rough freshman season, missing some time due to injuries and when he was on the court he shot pretty pedestrian from the floor. That said, he has late-lottery potential. He’s a great athlete, is very (very) long, and can play on both ends of the floor. The Nets are looking for much immediate help in the draft, which is why they can swing for the fences here with this pick. — Tom Lorenzo, Nets Daily

28. Philadelphia 76ers - Nah’Shon Hyland, G, VCU

In search of players who can score and create off the bounce, the Sixers go with Nah’Shon Hyland, guard out of Virginia Commonwealth University. Hyland shot 39.9 percent from beyond the arc over 331 career attempts at VCU and he has different-area-code range. With shooting chops like that, Hyland could find minutes early in his career as a spark plug off the bench. Hyland’s poor assist-to-turnover ratio would be concerning if the intention were to play him at point guard. But with Tyrese Maxey already on the roster, Hyland makes more sense as a two-guard. The bigger concern surrounding Hyland is his size, standing 6’3” and weighing 165 pounds. He’ll be fast tracked into a training program to bulk up. — Kevin Love, Liberty Ballers

29. Phoenix Suns - Josh Christopher, G, Arizona State

Phoenix takes the best player available on the board and keeps the local product in state. Christopher is a powerful athlete with good size and strength for his position standing at 6’5” and weighing in at 215. The self creation flashes combined with his athletic profile and three-level scoring potential makes him an intruiging prospect for any team in the late-1st round. Phoenix has struggled with shot creation at times when Paul or Booker were sitting, so adding someone that can create for themselves in a low-usage role (to start) off the bench alongside Cam Payne would be more than ideal. — Brandon Duenas, Bright Side of the Sun

30. Utah Jazz - Ayo Dosunmu, G, Illinois

Utah’s loss in the 2nd round showed a fatal flaw in perimiter defense that did them in. This offseason should be spent by the Jazz looking for perimiter defenders that can shoot, something they should have gone after last year. Ayo Dosunmu is a bit of a swing for the fences type pick but he had great measurements in the combine and has proven to be a high level defender in college. He showed signs of good shooting at Illinois also and, if he can shoot the three with consistency in the NBA, Dosunmu could be a nice rotational player for years. — James Hansen, SLC Dunk

Lenses

Earlier this week game one of the NBA finals gave us one of the most entertaining sporting events of the last decade. The game had everything! It had an all time great performance from Lebron James, late game heroics from both teams, big shots, taunting, fighting, ejections, and of course…

This game gave us all the meme and gif fodder we could ask for. I’m sure you’ve seen this image about a thousand times over the last few days. I laugh every time I see it. I’m actually laughing now as I write this. 

However, the most talked about moment from the game, was a call the referees made late in the fourth quarter when the outcome was certainly still in doubt. The refs called a charging foul on Lebron after initially calling a block on Kevin Durant and then reviewing the call in slow motion. The overturned call has been talked about ad nauseam from that moment until now. It was a subjective call, and as with all subjective situations, it really could have gone either way, but try telling that to a Cavaliers fan. Cavs fans see this issue one way and one way only. They were robbed. How can you blame them? Their favorite team eventually lost game one, and maybe if that call goes differently they would’ve won. Ask any Warrior fan on the other hand, and they’ll tell you that the referees made the right call. Neither one is wrong I suppose, but both have limited views.

Sports fans can debate charge or block, and still maintain respect for one another. Two art lovers can walk into a museum and look at the same work of art, and have two drastically different opinions about them. Two friends can watch the same movie and give two totally different reviews. All of this is because we all see the world through different lenses. I know that’s not some deep revelation. We all recognize that we are free to think how we want, and for the most part disagreement doesn’t bother us. We are fine with disagreements over sports, art, or entertainment, but when we put our political or religious lenses on, things can get a little more volatile.

We seem to lose sight of the fact that everyone doesn’t wear our lenses when issues of racism, guns, sex, or religious theology come up. I know that there is much more at stake for humanity when we start talking about these issues, but  even in heavier matters we’d all do well to remember that there are other lenses to see the world through. In fact, my lens is not the only lens that has a beautiful view of the world. 

We tend to believe that our view of things is right, and any other view isn’t, especially when there are religious writings, data, or facts that support our view. Some of us treat anyone who doesn’t view the world through our religious or political views as less intelligent or uninformed. I’ve seen people try to discredit the personal experience of others in light of the “facts” they read on the internet. There seems to be a tendency in our culture for us to become too enamored with our own lenses. We are comfortable with them. They have served us well in life. They are passed down to many of us like precious family heirlooms, but I wonder what would happen in our world if people started asking to borrow each others lenses?

I have to be honest, I’m extremely guilty of picking up my lens every day and being mad at other people because they don’t see what I see. I do try to offer my lens to people through what I write, and what I share in person, but I know I fall short in taking the time to lay my lens aside and looking through some one else’s sometimes. My connection to my lens doesn’t mean that it’s the only lens of value in the world. It just means I’ve grown attached to it, and the more I keep  my limited views safely tucked away and guarded the less I’ll see all the beauty that is in the world around me.

We all fail at times to pause long enough to see the world through someone else’s lens. Sometimes we fail because of our fear, other times because of our insecurities. Most times we fail because of our pride. Pride won’t allow us to entertain the idea that an opposing view point could possible be valid. One of the ways you can tell if you’ve become too proud of your lens is by gauging how emotional you become when you encounter a view that is not just different than yours, but actually in adversarial contrast to yours. Are you able to pass by a social media post without commenting or judging the writers when you see something you strongly disagree with? Have you entered into a dialog around subjective religious or political material and actually changed your mind? If not, then you may be too in love with your own lens, and it’s probably time you asked a friend or two if you could borrow theirs.

One last REALLY IMPORTANT thing before you wrestle with what you’ve read….

It was totally a block!!! Suck it up Lebron!!! 😂 

When was the last time you intentionally put effort into seeing the world through some one else’s lens?

Who can you reach out to today to exchange lenses with?