Weeks before the 2013-14 NBA season was due to start, brothers Miles and Mason Plumlee were drinking root beers outside their childhood home in Warsaw, Indiana.
“I bet I dunk it way more than you next season,” Miles boasted. “The Suns are tanking next season and they’re not going to want to go out and acquire a center who’s going to lead them to additional wins. I’m going to get at least fifteen minutes a game.”
“No way!” Mason exclaimed. “They just drafted Len and he’ll eat up all the minutes at center. The only way your sorry ass sees the court is if they let you mop the sweat after somebody hits the deck. Meanwhile, I’ll show coach Kidd the meaning of hustle, and he’ll reward me with more minutes than you’ve ever played in your life.”
Mason crossed his arms across his chest and grinned smugly, clearly believing that he had achieved victory. However, that grin vanished when his brother began to laugh raucously.
“Are you serious? Brook Lopez is a lock for thirty-five minutes a night. And with Kirilenko, Blatche, and Evans eating up the power forward minutes, the rest of the minutes at center will be for KG and KG only,” Miles rebutted after his laughter had settled. “If you dunk it even one time next season, that’s one more dunk than I expect you to get.”
“Oh yeah, asswipe? Brook Lopez has glass feet. What if I told you that he was going to get seriously injured two weeks into the season and in his wake I dunked it a hundred times? What would you say then, huh?”
Chuckling, Miles responded, “I’d say you were going bananas. Then I’d tell you that if you can dunk it a hundred times, I’ll DEFINITELY dunk it at least that much.”
Mason suddenly found the whole conversation very absurd. “Oh, who are we kidding? Neither of us is going to get off the bench this season, man. The chances of either of us notching a hundred slams in the season are remote, much less both of us.”
“You might have already given up, dude, but I haven’t. We’re going to make some noise this season, you and I. I feel it in my heart,” Miles said, pointing to his chest.
“Whatever. I’ll believe it when I see it.”