Jabari Parker could finally relax. The locker room was empty now, cleared of the ceaseless questioning of the media personnel and his own congratulatory teammates. He reclined at his locker, glad to at last be able to soak in his career-high performance. He closed his eyes, replaying the off-the-glass alley-oop to Giannis over and over in his mind…
“Great game tonight, huh?” announced an unfamiliar voice.
Jabari’s eyes shot open. “Wha… who’s there?” he stammered, looking around wildly. The locker room remained empty. Brushing the voice off as post-game stress, he closed his eyes again. This time, he imagined himself hitting that corner three, the first of the season…
“I said, great game tonight, huh?” said the voice again.
Now Jabari was annoyed. “Do you mind? I’m trying to relax here! Show your ugly face, or stop harassing me!”
“I would show you my face, but I doubt you would be able to comprehend it, child, for it is I, Elohim,” the bodiless voice continued, unfazed by Jabari’s aggression.
Jabari’s annoyance quickly faded into reverence. “God the Father. Elohim!” he whispered to the empty air.
“I just wanted to congratulate you on your fine performance this evening. It is always a great pleasure to see one of my children perform so well in one of your funny little mortal activities.”
“All thanks to you, Father. I am nothing without you.”
Now it was God’s turn to be annoyed. “Don’t say stuff like that. Just between you and me, I’ve basically had no input in how you’ve turned out. You or anybody else. It’s been hands-off for me for about a trillion years. Your prodigious basketball talent is yours and yours alone,” God scolded. He then cleared his throat, in a way. “I just have one question to ask. Were you, uh, wearing your temple garment, your Mormon underwear, while playing tonight?” he asked, sounding as tentative as he could for being a deity.
“Of course not, why would I?” Jabari responded, surprised by the personal nature of the question.
God sighed. “I thought not. Sorry that I have to do this, Jabari, but when you check your stats, you will find that you scored only 8 points on 3-of-12 shooting, with 6 turnovers and 6 fouls…”
“WHAT?!”
“The rules are there for a reason, my child. Do you think I intended for the Mormon underwear to go unworn?”
Jabari stood up now and looked up at the ceiling. “Yeah, well, I don’t think Giannis was wearing it either, so why aren’t you taking away his triple-double?!” he yelled.
“Your friend Giannis is not a Mormon, and is not bound by their regulations. Truth be told, he’s not religious at all, so he’s not bound by any of my own rules, or the peculiar rules of any denomination or creed. Don’t worry, Jabari, this happens all the time. Just a few days ago I had to revise Omri Casspi’s 50-point game down to 13 because I found out he ate meat and dairy in the same meal, so it’s not really a big deal…”
“Well then I don’t want to be Mormon anymore! Just make me a regular Christian, and then can I have my career high back?”
“That’s cool,” God responded, sounding as if he expected this turn of events. “Passing up the Celestial Kingdom in exchange for… regular old heaven, and a 36-point basketball performance. It makes no difference, honestly, you still get to spend the rest of eternity with me, bathed in my glowing light and surrounded by my omnipresent compassion. Just lucky that you didn’t want to convert to Presbyterianism.”
“Why’s that?” Jabari asked, feeling suddenly uneasy about the whole thing.
“Because then I’d have to whisk you straight off to hell!”
Jabari heard the faint sounds of laughter, before silence returned to the locker room. He leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes again. There he was, running the fast break with Giannis, and he was skying for the lob…