The final buzzer sounded. The Bucks had thoroughly dismantled the Jazz on the back of Ersan Ilyasova’s 31 points. The Jazz, despite Enes Kanter’s 27 points, looked lifeless and uncaring. Kanter walked over to offer his congratulations.
“Hey Ersan, great game tonight! Really representing glorious Turkey well.”
“You know Enes, I not really from Turkey. Everybody except Bucks know I from Uzbekistan, which, by the way, is way more glorious than Turkey ever could be, haha! Still, Turkey should be proud that their real son scored a career high 27 points in the face of insurmountable odds.”
“I don’t doubt gloriousness of Uzbekistan one bit. And, if we are being honest, I not really Turkish either. I was born in Switzerland which is also way more glorious than Turkey. I struggle with my heritage every day.”
“You too? It seems like the whole national team is composed of non-Turks. Turkic people maybe, but not actual people from Turkey. You know Hedo not really Turkish either? He from some Slav country and parents changed name to assimilate. I feel like on cusp of big controversy, you know?”
“Yeah, is weird. But it matters not. Nationalism is a plague upon humanity, and patriotic thoughts are only for those too weak to have own accomplishments. Country borders seek to divide when we should be seeking to unite.”
“I hear you. Anyway, congrats on the career high. Henson looked like a flimsy stick-man trying to guard you!”