I sit in my high-quality leather office chair, perusing basketball-reference for possible highlight videos to create, each statline going into the appropriate category in my highly-organized mind: too good of a player, too many points, a player whom I dislike, etc. It is all an automatic process for me, for I am the mortal man on this earth who could most accurately be termed a “highlight machine”.
When my phone rings (prompting the startled departure from my lap of one Japurri Purrker) and the caller ID informs me that Rondae Hollis-Jefferson is the one calling, I am able to swiftly pick up the phone, ignore any introductions or pleasantries, and say, “too many free throws”. I have removed the phone from my face and am preparing to end the call when I hear Rondae’s panicked voice on the other end: “Wait! Wait! Let’s negotiate!”
It’s always fun to watch young NBA players flounder through the cold logic a highlights-making process which is obscure and inscrutable to an outsider. Some of them will offer me laughable sums to make their videos; others will threaten me with violence; others still will beg at my feet like a dog. I am mildly curious as to which path Rondae will take, so I coolly say, “Wow me, Mr. Hollis-Jefferson.”
Rondae seems relieved that I have granted him audience, and he immediately launches into his pitch. “This is my career high, man. And not only is it my career high, it easily surpasses my previous high.”
“That is all true, Mr. Hollis-Jefferson,” I reply. “However, the viewing public has no interest in watching players shoot free throws. More importantly, I have no interest in making videos featuring the same.”
“But your viewers won’t know how many free throws I had until they’re done watching the video!” Rondae protests.
“Are you really suggesting I risk receiving dislikes on my video simply to appease the vanity of basketball players? Is that really what you’re suggesting to me, Mr. Hollis-Jefferson?” I ask sternly, even though I know I will probably make the video anyway.
“It’s not vanity!” Rondae answers unconvincingly. “It’s about maintaining your archive of the outstanding performances of scrubs like me.” Now he’s debasing himself to curry my favor. And it’s working.
“I’ll think about it,” I say aloofly, not giving Rondae any clues as to what my intentions are. “Good day, Mr. Hollis-Jefferson.” Before he can respond a final time, I end the call and return to my work. Ten free throws is too many, but I can’t ignore his twenty-point game no matter how much I would love to. The Nets-Suns game is opened in my video editor of choice, and the highlights machine roars back to life.