Ben McLemore looked around at the basketball players who were gathered for the second round of the support group. It was a reunion of sorts; exactly a year ago, they had all been seated in a similar circle, in the same community center, in the same fluorescent-lit room. Just like last time, nobody really looked happy to be there, nobody wanted to admit they had a problem, and most of all, nobody wanted to share what steps they had or hadn’t taken to rectify that problem.
Steve, the group leader, looked around with a confused expression on his face. “There’s an extra chair here. Who are we still waiting for?”
Brandon Jennings, sitting in his wheelchair, coughed pointedly. Steve immediately looked embarrassed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Brandon! I forgot about your injury! Since you brought your own chair, I guess everybody is accounted for.” He clapped his hands. “So let’s begin!”
The assembled basketball players stared warily at the peppy man, waiting for him to continue.
“No volunteers? That’s fine! Why don’t we start with John over there. Just tell us what progress you’ve made on your field goal percentage over the course of the season. Don’t be afraid to be honest. Nothing you say here will make it to your teammates or front offices.”
John Salmons looked at the floor. “My name is John Salmons and I shot 33% from the field, down from 36% the year before. It’s hard to care when you only play during blowouts. Since the Pelicans traded me and the Suns waived me, I think my career is over.”
Steve nodded knowingly. “Great, great. Let’s just keep going around the circle.”
“I’m Derrick Rose. My percentage went up from thirty-five to forty,” said Derrick Rose. “I managed to play most of the season, which helped my consistency, but I’m supposed to be the MVP, and MVP’s don’t shoot 40%. I take too many jumpers because I lack the explosiveness to drive to the basket for easy layups. Actually, I do still have the explosiveness, but I’m afraid to use it in case my knee explodes again.”
Phil Pressey went next. “My name is Phil Pressey and I improved from 30% to 36%. I still can’t shoot threes and I’m still too short to play basketball.”
“Alexey Shved. I shoot much more good from field, forty percents instead of thirty-two percents. I cut back on vodka this year and focus more on, how you say, trainings? New York City has strong Russian community that supporting me and allowing me to contribute nice numbers on league-worst Knicks team.”
Iman Shumpert laughed. “Unlike Alexey, I got traded away from the Knicks, not to them. For the season I shot 41%, better than the 38% I shot last year. Being on the Cavs for their finals run was great, but I didn’t actually perform much better than when I was on the Knicks because I was tentative and I deferred to LeBron.”
“I’m Tony Snell. I went from 38% to 43%. As a second year player I had more confidence from the coaching staff, but I’m still too unattractive to ever find my soulmate. In a society that values physical appearance above all else, sometimes I question whether I am a true human being or just a mockery of one, placed on this Earth by god as some kind of cosmic practical joke.”
Now it was Ekpe Udoh’s turn. There was an extended silence before he finally started to speak. “I’m Ekpe Udoh. I shot a career-high 46% from the field after being at 40% last year. That sounds good until you find out that I only attempted 24 field goals the entire year. The Clippers bench was horrible but they still couldn’t play me. That fatass Glen Davis took all my minutes. I don’t know if I’ll get another contract.”
“I’m Ricky Rubio and I plummeted to 36% from 38%. Injuries hampered me but I still can’t shoot or finish. I have to figure out something soon since there is no room in the NBA for a point guard like me.”
“My name is Brandon Jennings. As you can see, my Achilles isn’t doing so well, but I did manage to crawl above 40% from 37%. I’m still a relentless chucker with no right hand and now I’m being replaced by Reggie Jackson who might be even more of a chucker than I am.”
They had reached the end of the circle. It was Ben’s turn now, and he was emboldened, because he had shown more pronounced improvement than anybody else in the room. “I’m Ben McLemore AKA Ray Allen 2.0. I rebounded from my 37%-shooting rookie year to shoot 44% from the field this year, which is excellent for a second-year shooting guard playing in a bad system for a franchise that is embroiled in perpetual turmoil. Even if we trade Cousins for Robert Sacre and Rudy Gay for Salmons over there, I will probably still put up sick numbers while you guys in your good situations with your good teammates continue to gargle my balls from a stats perspective.”
Everybody in the room, save Steve, was glaring at Ben as he smiled smugly to himself. Before Steve could move on to the next part of the therapy, Ben got out his phone. “Now, who wants to see my dunkilation from this year?”