“That,” Garrett Temple announced as he walked into the Kings’ locker room after the game, “Is how you take over a game of basketball.” He ignored the cold stares of his teammates as he flumped down at his seat and began removing his shoes.
“Uh, you missed the game-tying free throw and then we lost,” George Hill said from the neighboring locker.
“That might be true, George,” Garrett responded. “But we would have never been a position to tie the game if it weren’t for my heroic display of three-point shooting in the final quarter.” He took out his phone, opened up the Twitter app, and read aloud the tweet he had just begun typing. “Just…dominated…the…Suns…on…their…home…floor…scored…a…career…high…twenty…three…hashtag…I…am…a…beast.”
George raised his eyebrows. “That might not be, uh, the most appropriate thing to tweet after what just happened.”
Garrett hit the “tweet” button with a flourish. “Too late,” he said smugly, dropping his phone back in his bag. “But for real, did you see me out there? I couldn’t be stopped. I was so hot. I was feeling it, man.”
“But we lost directly because of your inability to hit free throws,” George said. “It’s a good thing Zach isn’t in earshot or he would probably box your brains out.”
“He’s welcome to do that if he wants,” Garrett said dismissively. “It would be extremely stupid even by his standards to punch out the team’s best player right after the most cold-blooded three-point shooting display in team history.” He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, then got up to leave. “Don’t worry about it too much, George. Not everybody can be a beast like me. Now, I think it’s time for another tweet.”
He got out his phone again and began to type. “George…Hill…is…overrated…bum…trash…I…should…demand…a…trade…ell…oh…ell…hashtag…George…Hill…sucks.”