Jonas Valanciunas was doing what he did almost every off-night: Sitting in front of his TV encased in a cocoon of blanket-and-cushion construction, with his coffee table littered with snacks and beverages of the alcoholic type. Tonight was the big game, and he was watching with intentness, though not much happiness.
“Are you serious? Are you serious?” He yelled as the stronger team scored repeatedly against the inferior team’s haphazard defense. “Play some D! Where’s the D! I didn’t cancel all my plans only to watch this crappy blowout! Damn!” On the screen, the Fighting Irish and the Huskies were battling for the national championship. Jonas’ hands scrabbled on the table, grabbed a snack, and deposited it in his mouth without his eyes even leaving the screen.
“Women’s college basketball is so unbalanced that even a contest between two undefeated teams becomes a blowout!”, he exclaimed as Dorito bits flew out of his mouth and lodged themselves in his beard. Despite his status as a professional basketball player his analysis of the game resembled that of a casual fan. A very inebriated casual fan. “Breanna Stewart is dominating! Could she play in the NBA? I bet she could hold her own against the Bucks or something! Damn, she’s hot too! The entire package! I will make her mine.” He did not realize that a female of even sub-average appearance would be very unlikely to even give the time of day to a male with a beard replaced entirely by snack crumbs.
The final buzzer sounded. U-Conn were the champs. Their celebrations went unnoticed by Jonas, as he had fallen asleep due to a combination of cheap beer and cocoon-overheating. He dreamt of himself and Breanna Stewart on a nameless beach, and of break-dancing bags of Doritos, and of himself scoring 26 points in an NBA game. Who knows which of these visions would come true?