“Yo, my man,” LeBron said, walking up to Cedi Osman, who was sitting in his locker, and exchanging some dap. “You remember what the plan is for tonight?”
Cedi scrunched up his face in thought. “I think so. We’re gonna…we’re gonna ruin Paul Pierce’s jersey retirement!”
LeBron smiled. “Damn straight we are. And all those fans out there, what are we gonna make ’em do?”
Now Cedi recalled fully the peptalk he and the rest of his teammates had received from LeBron on the team plane, so he answered confidently. “We’re gonna make them boo their own team, and then they’ll go home crying!” The thought of being involved in such a devastating blowout victory made him giddy with excitement. Then he remembered another anecdote that LeBron had shared with him. “Maybe we’ll beat them so bad that Paul Pierce will poop his pants again and they’ll have to take him away in a wheelchair!”
“That’s the goal, man,” LeBron replied, putting his hand on his teammate’s shoulder. “But if we’re gonna do it, I need contributions from all you guys. Especially you.”
Cedi nodded seriously. “I’m ready, LeBron.”
“Go out there and do your thing,” LeBron re-iterated. “Be aggressive. Take your shots. And wipe that dumb smile off Pierce’s dumb face.”
“He accidentally let out some poop into his shorts and faked an injury to cover it up,” Cedi mumbled to himself as LeBron walked away to give more peptalks. “I hope that never happens to me.”