Cheick Diallo entered the locker room after the game and boldly walked up to where Deandre Ayton was sitting. “You should just leave,” Cheick said to his teammate. “It’s obvious you’re not needed on this team anymore.”
“Don’t let two good games get to your head, man,” Deandre answered. “You make it hard to be happy for you when you come in here with that attitude.”
Seeing that Deandre wasn’t just going to get up and leave the team, never to return, Cheick resorted to his plan B. Casually pulling out his phone and pretending to look at his messages, but actually setting it to record video, he then grabbed a handful of used hypodermic needles from his pocket and threw them at Deandre. “Oh no! It looks like you’ve been caught in the act of injecting more steroids!” Cheick exclaimed while Deandre yelped at the sudden onslaught of pointy objects. “I guess I’ll have to call up the league office and tell them that you need to be suspended for the whole season! This incriminating video will give them all the evidence they need!”
“You know they do blood tests and stuff to figure that out,” Deandre replied. “They don’t want or need a so-called ‘incriminating’ video that just shows empty needles flying everywhere.”
“The fans will be so disappointed that Deandre didn’t learn his lesson after the first suspension,” Cheick went on. “They’ll run you out of town for sure. And you know what Coach told me?”
“What did coach tell you?” Deandre asked in a tired voice.
“He told me that he appreciates my defensive intensity and wishes that Deandre could even play defense one time in his whole life. So as you can tell, everybody hates you and you shouldn’t even bother showing up anymore.” Cheick looked around to gauge the support of his teammates, but most of them were trying very hard to ignore the confrontation occurring in front of them.
“Nah, I’m cool,” Deandre replied.
Cheick shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anyway when Adam Silver sees the video of you desperately grabbing at used roid needles trying to find one that still has roids in it.” He then turned his attention to Frank Kaminsky, who was at the locker next to Deandre’s. “You’re in the video too, man. Start packing your bags.”
Frank paused in the act of putting on his shoes and looked sadly down at the floor. “Okay,” he said, getting up and starting to put all of his possessions in his duffel bag. Soon, his locker was empty, and he zipped up his bag and walked out the door.
“See, that’s what you should have done when faced with such damning evidence of your steroid obsession,” Cheick said. “Oh well. It sure will be nice to be the most skilled and most beloved big man on the team.”