Gathered around a whiteboard in the locker room, the Phoenix Suns players reflected on their loss to the Orlando Magic, heads down.
Jeff Hornacek was displeased. “That was a disgraceful performance tonight. I’m totally embarrassed and totally ashamed. I’ve never seen such a collection of lazybones in my life. We are not leaving this room until you all write, on this whiteboard, what it means to work hard.”
One by one, the various Suns players walked up and wrote what it meant to work hard. Gerald Green wrote, his expression dour, “Windmilling it when a regular jam would suffice”. Isaiah Thomas, underneath, wrote “Trying to dunk it even one time.” PJ Tucker, “Coming to practice as sober as possible, despite my crippling alcoholism.” Bledsoe, “Playing with intensity even though the front office strung me along for several months.” The Morris twins walked up together. Both grasping the same marker, they wrote, “Trying to separate our entwined identities so that we don’t wake up confused thinking we are actually the other one.”
Finally, the only person left was Goran Dragic, the leader and most well-respected player on the team. He stood up, grabbed the marker, and wrote one word only.
“Ball”
The others looked confused for a minute. Then, slowly, they started to nod, as if to say “He’s right”. No more words were said. The Suns left the meeting knowing what they had to do, their plan of attack for winning. It was all so simple, now.