As much as I hope and pray for Kyle Anderson to one day justify my predraft hype for him by turning into any kind of prolific scorer, I’m coming to the conclusion that it’s just not going to happen. Believe me, I’ve prayed every morning and night to every deity I can think of (I even went on Wikipedia to look up a list of deities and having been working my way down the list), but Anderson has not really shown any inclination to become anything more than an ultra-low-volume utility-knife type of player.
You would think at least one of those deities would breathe the spark of assertiveness into him, but nope. He’s just as unassertive as ever. I even spiced up my prayers with full-on chanting and candlelit rituals, but you look at Anderson and you would think that nobody ever feverishly prayed for 48 hours straight under the blistering desert sun in a long-lost language of the desert peoples for his scoring to get above twelve points per 36 minutes. The only thing it looks like I prayed for is for his fivehead to turn into a sixhead. And I promise I didn’t pray for that. That happened by itself.
Maybe in time I will learn to be happy for what Anderson is, which is a competent and useful NBA role player, rather than being sad for what I think he should have become, which is a LeBron 0.5 with a purer shooting touch. It’s a healing process, I think. But sometimes, man’s heart does not want to be healed.