“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.” Paul Millsap stated, clad in nothing but a bear-fur speedo. He stared out towards the court from the tunnel with apprehension.
Steve, the Hawks’ marketing coordinator, fidgeted with his tie. “Actually, if you want to get technical about it, I’m not making you do anything. Coach Bud is, though. you remember what he said if you didn’t perform this halftime show.”
Paul, looking resigned, sighed. “Yeah. No more minutes in the playoffs unless I dance around at center court for five minutes while dubstep plays and strobe lights flash. I still can’t believe he’d say something like that. You sure that’s exactly what he said?
“You don’t believe me? I just talked with him a few minutes ago.”
“So did I, and he didn’t seem to know what I was talking about when I brought it up to him.” Paul turned and looked at the short, pudgy man. “You ain’t playin’ with me, are you?” he asked accusatorily.
Steve held up his hands. “No way, Paul. I’m under direct orders from high above to make sure you go through with this. Both our asses would be grass if you don’t get out there and perform!”
“Great. I think I’d rather take the DNP’s and a series loss than go through with this. Hell, can he even afford to bench me tonight? I’m on my way to 50…”
“Budenholzer is excited about this performance, Paul. He wants ‘The Thrillsap Experience’. There is no backing out now.” Steve interrupted. He looked excited now as well, rocking back and forth on his heels and grinning.
“Where did you come up with this idea again? Cause I swear it seems like something that DownToB…”
Steve scowled. “I told you, this is my original idea. Just like that organist was my idea, and the neon-colored triangles all over the jerseys was my idea. I have tons of ideas all the time. Nothing draws the lucrative “white lady” demographic to the arena like the promise of a muscular chocolate hunk strutting his stuff.”
“I ‘strut my stuff’ every game, man. That’s what they pay me to do.”
Steve nervously pushed his glasses up his nose. “Yeah, but the ladies want to see more of your, uh, physical attributes. Hence, ‘The Thrillsap Experience’. As I said, this will send ticket sales through the roof.”
“Then why are we doing this in Boston? Wouldn’t we want to be in Atlanta for this? I don’t feel like the fans here are going to be very receptive to my ‘performance’.” Paul questioned as the lights dimmed.
“We’ve been over this a million times, Paul. But there is no more time for talk. Get out there!”
Steve gave Paul a solid push in the back. The half-naked Paul trudged defiantly towards the court, pausing only to glare at Steve. Once he made it to center court, he began to dance and gyrate, the jeers of the crowd drowned out by the pulsing dubstep.