So I guess Frank Jackson is the man now? A two-game sample size is probably too small to draw any reasonable conclusions, but it’s definitely not too small to draw UNreasonable conclusions, and the unreasonable conclusion I have drawn is that, with Jackson attempting 20 and 18 field goals in the past two games, the torch has been passed in New Orleans. And this wasn’t just any torch-passing. The torch was passed to a rookie. A rookie named Frank Jackson.
Don’t even talk to me about Jrue Holiday being out. I’m imagining Anthony Davis pulling Frank Jackson aside after practice and whispering “It’s your team now,” in his ear. Then they both cry and hug. Anybody who attempts to bring facts and reasoning into my fantasy is subject to being banned from the Internet as well as being banned from my immediate physical proximity. Until Jackson stops taking so many damn shots all the time, this is the fantasy that I choose to become my reality.
This fantasy is way better than most of my fantasies because I can pretend its true without experiencing any cognitive dissonance. Meanwhile, my other fantasies (of sexual conquest, of being the hero in some kind of tragedy, of being obscenely wealthy, of receiving recognition for my dedication to scrublights, of being happy) are easily disproven in real life unless I jump through some serious mental hoops (like, I once saved twenty kids from a burning daycare, but the smoke inhalation gave me selective amnesia and I don’t remember doing it).
So, yeah. Frank Jackson. The future of the Pelicans? Sure!