Since joining the Kings, Buddy Hield has had significantly more turnovers than assists. That’s not a good look for a shooting guard, but he gets a pass because he’s a rookie, and he gets a double pass because he got seven assists in this game, and he gets a triple pass because who’s he supposed to assist it to anyway? You can’t pass it to yourself.
I’ll tell you one thing, the huge purple Buddy Hield statue in my living room certainly doesn’t get any assists. It doesn’t help me at all. In fact, it’s the single largest contributor to my deteriorating mental state. Now when I try to pick up and hug my cute kitty Japurri Purrker, he wiggles and scratches at me until I put him down, and then he runs over to cuddle with Buddy instead. I’m like, that gigantic statue doesn’t even pet you, you stupid cat. And he’s not even soft. Meanwhile I’m over here being soft and capable of petting your fluffy fur, and I’m getting ignored.
I also get the feeling that thing watches me when I move around my place. Sometimes it almost seems like it’s in a slightly different spot than where I left it, like it’s moving by itself when I’m not looking. Maybe when I paid $3,000 to that 3D-printing company they put motors in his limbs or something because they felt bad for me. Or maybe I’m just going insane. Probably the latter.
God damn it.