Kristaps Porzingis was just settling into his executive-style faux-leather chair for an extended gaming session when his doorbell rang. He strongly considered just ignoring the doorbell entirely, but there was a chance that it was a teammate who had dropped by unexpectedly. And if it wasn’t that, there was a good chance it was one of the boxes of Latvian candy that his parents sent him every few weeks.
He reluctantly lifted himself from his chair and answered the door. His visitor had not brought any care packages from overseas. “Hey Carmelo, what up man?”
Carmelo Anthony let himself in to Kristaps’ well-furnished, but slightly cramped, apartment and flopped down on the couch. “I was just on my way to the gym when I thought to myself, ‘Hey, I haven’t seen my bro Kristaps for a few days’, and I was wondering if you wanted to hit the gym with me.”
This explanation didn’t ring true to Kristaps. “But there are not being any gyms nearby,” he replied, sitting back down in his comfortable chair and swiveling it towards his guest. Remembering his freshly-prepared package of Wildilicious Wild Berry Pop-Tarts, he began to munch on them before they grew cold.
Carmelo rolled his eyes. “Okay. You got me. Coach Hornacek told me that we need to bulk you up before the season starts but he didn’t want to say it to your face because he didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot with you, so he told me to work out with you,” he said rapidly. “And, I mean, it’s not a bad idea. You’re kinda skinny.”
Kristaps shrugged as he looked at his biceps. “I working out very much a lot, but, you know, all the cardio running up and down floor, up, down, all game, it killing my gains.”
Returning from the kitchen, where he had helped himself to a bottle of Mountain Dew Code Red, Carmelo replied, “Really? Because you’ve been on the team for a year now and I’ve never once seen you doing any kind of weight training at all.”
“No point. Cardio killing my gains.” Kristaps repeated. He glanced at his computer screen, where a game of Civilization V was waiting to be played. “Anyway, my summer very busy, Steam backlog is big and soon Civilization VI comings out, when I have not yet mastering all strategies of previous Civilization game. I work on jumpshot for two hours in day, then I come home to participating in PC Master Race.”
This talk of computer games did not seem to interest Carmelo. “Come on, man. We’d only be at the gym for a few hours at most. Then you could play video games the rest of the day if you wanted.”
“Many games I bought during Steam Summer Sale. There is no times to be wasting. Coach Hornacek can Sūkā līko. You can telling him that.”
Carmelo clearly didn’t know the meaning of the Latvian phrase Kristaps had just said, but correctly inferred that it wasn’t a positive one. “But with Joakim around, you won’t necessarily get minutes by default next year. Believe me, you have to show the coaching staff that you’re serious about improving your body as well as your game or they’ll lose trust in you quickly.”
Kristaps chewed on his Pop-Tart and considered Carmelo’s words, knowing that they were probably truthful. Secretly, Kristaps had been wanting to begin a weight training regimen, but didn’t know how to start and didn’t want to appear vulnerable by asking for help. “Okay, I come with you to gym. But not today. Body is not ready.”
“Speaking of your body not being ready, you gotta cut down on the junk foods and start eating right,” Carmelo said. “Your kitchen is nothing but Doritos and Mountain Dew.”
“And Pop-Tarts,” Kristaps said. “And Hot Pockets. American packaged foods are best in world. But you should not lecture on eating habits, when your arms are flabby like grandma.”
“Truth be told, Hornacek told me that I’d better get in shape too if I wanted all the minutes I’ve been used to getting,” Carmelo admitted. “I don’t remember the last time I had any definition in my arms. But you should see what happens when I stop hitting the gym entirely. It’s not good.” As if suddenly realizing that his chosen drink was not the best for his health, he replaced the cap and set it on the far end of the coffee table.
“So we working out together and helping each other reach goals?” Kristaps asked. “Like a real bro friendship?” The prospect of going to a real-life gym in order to lift weights didn’t seem so daunting when the experience would be shared with a friend who was also insecure about their muscles or lack thereof.
Carmelo smiled. “Yeah man. Like a real bro friendship.”
Turning back to his computer, Kristaps said, “Cool. But that is tomorrow. Today, I teach Incan swines not to trifling with mighty Russian military.”