Blatche tried to focus in the timeout, but he was never that good at running plays or listening to that motivational mumbo-jumbo. Usually what he did was look for hot girls in the stands that he might be able to get with later. That was what he was doing now – scanning the lower bowl for high-class women who would be least likely to try to extract money from him.
An angelic being caught his eye. She was pale and radiant, almost having an aura about her person. Long blond hair shimmered all the way down her back. Dressed in purest white, she was simultaneously the least eye-catching and the most eye-catching female in the building.
She seemed to notice his gaze, and turned to wave. Her lips began to form words, and to Andray’s surprise, he could hear them clearly, even though the distance separating them was great. “Andray! It is so good to see you again. I am the angel of the triple-double!”
Andray looked around. All of his teammates were listening to coach Kidd try to set up some kind of offense. They hadn’t heard anything.
The angel laughed. “Don’t worry about talking Andray, I can hear your thoughts perfectly well.”
He was immediately reminded of the deviant thoughts which he had been having about various women throughout the night. Hopefully the trip-dub angel wasn’t shy about that kind of stuff. “Why are you visiting me now, at this time, when I am nine assists and three rebounds short of my goal? I fear that I may never accumulate the stats necessary to take you as my own.”
“Sometimes people just need a reminder. If a lowly scrub like Kyle Lowry can achieve at least ten in three different statistical categories, a big manly man like yourself should surely be able to do the same.”
The words stung, but there was truth in them. He rued the day when his Wizards teammate stole that rebound from him. That would have been ten. Ten rebounds, and a triple-double.
“Andray. Andray. ANDRAY!” Jason Terry yelled. With a start, Andray turned to face his teammate.
Jason rolled his eyes. “Timeout’s over man. Stop daydreaming and get your butt over here. You’re the inbounder, remember?”
Andray didn’t remember, but he didn’t care. He would just try to get the ball so he could assist it to somebody. Ten assists wasn’t that much, really. Or maybe ten steals, yeah, he could do that – just play the passing lanes a little more aggressively. He looked over to where his angel was seated, but to his astonishment, the seat was empty now.
“I will always remember you, angel of the triple-double,” he said as he inbounded the ball. For some reason he was crying. “Always.”