Quietly, without anyone noticing, Wesley Matthews snuck into the NBA league office. It was late, and the only security guard on duty was taking a not-very-well-earned nap. There was nothing of true value here, unless one considered fake plants and other generic cubicle farm detritus “valuable”.
Wesley wasn’t here for that stuff. Damian Lillard had let him in on the secret room on the third floor, where the NBA leaderboard was kept and maintained. Matthews was keeping his words in mind.
“Yeah dude, it was easy. Just go in there and change it, how else do you think I lead the league in minutes my rookie year? Don’t be too obvious about it; when Victor tried to change his points per game to 25 they caught him in an instant.”
Thanks to Damian, he had a map of the offices. He had concealed any identifying features of himself with the all black clothing he wore. In any other stealth operation, his height might have made him too easily identifiable. Not here. Carefully, Wesley wound his way to the third floor, to the room where the statistical leaderboard was kept. He had been expecting a little more security for something of such seeming importance; the door to the room was wide open, and there wasn’t a security camera in sight.
Taking off his mask, he stared interestedly at the whiteboard which contained the leaders in every statistical category. There were already some obvious forgeries: no way was Brandan Wright shooting 74 percent from the field. He moved his gaze to the reason for his excursion. Three Pointers Made.
There was his name, at the very top, six ahead of Kyle Korver and five ahead of Dame! His initial excitement was tempered by the fact that he had wasted all this time for nothing. No reason to change the stats now, if he was already in the lead. Still, he figured he’d make his trip worthwhile. Erasing Channing Frye’s name in the fifteenth spot, he wrote a new name: Allen Crabbe.