A Letter to the guy in the all brown sweatsuit who sat several seats down from me at the Bulls game,
That’s a dope outfit. Look at those sweats. You don’t see brown on brown enough. Especially when they’re combined with a brown beanie and a pair of Tims. Looking like you belong in a Mobb Deep video. You ain’t a shook one, are you Brown Sweatsuit?
Lieutenant Deng is far and away the most creative nickname I’ve ever heard. I don’t know why the Bulls Marketing group hasn’t hired you yet. For real. That’s sincere. They should. Captain Kirk is great, too. Kirk was the Captain ‘fore Rose was, you’ll tell section 321 at least 30 times before the final buzzer sounds.
You’re in the top row and you’re making your mark. I will remember you and you won’t remember me and that is a sign that you are more exceptional than me.
“Do work, Captain Kirk.”
No, YOU do work, Brown Sweatsuit. You do work.
You got yourself sprawled Arcade Fire style all over the chair in front of you, making sure that all that legroom is being used, because if some lame isn’t gonna buy a ticket then you may as well stretch out. I feel you on that, Brown Sweatsuit. I truly do.
I got these gussied up British insurance salespeople in front of me. The guy is being super dismissive to the girl every time she asks him a question. Sometimes dumb guys are mean to girls, I guess. Anyways, I’m left to eat my burger and fries with my knees tucked in close to me like I’m on a children’s toilet. You know, one of those like you’ll see in Sunday School bathrooms. It’s fine, though. Least I’m on the aisle.
We are on the top row, though. You’re about 10 seats down from me, but you may as well be right beside me. God gave you a DMX voice and you share that gift with the world and you shine like a star in the universe.
I think you’ve had all of the beers. All of them. All of the beers, all of the beeeeeeeers (Rihanna voice)
You’re shouting at Thibs. He doesn’t hear you, dude. He’s immune to you and he hates you and smiling and everyone else.
There’s a glaring lack of self restraint. It’s kind of incredible. I want to be as free as you one day, Brown Sweatsuit. You are what the poets want the world to be. At peace and at ease and aware and present and super drunk and a little abrasive but completely harmless and, probably, a super nice dude.
I know you need your own reality TV show. I know that. Yea. I know people would watch you. You’re not wrong.
You’re oblivious to them, but all your boys around you are just getting a kick out you. You are the funniest man alive to some of them. You are Bill Murray in the 80’s. To others, you’re just a guy they smile and shake their head at. Regardless, they like you, man. They really like you.
You say “Lieutenant Deng” so much. I’m not even mad, it’s amazing (Ron Burgundy voice).
You’re wanting them to get the ball to Rip Hamilton, which would make sense if it was 2004 and Lieutenant Deng wasn’t on his way to a cool 27 point performance. Deng had Kevin Martin on him WAY too often. Rip had Thabo checking him. If that’s the case, you get the ball to the Lieutenant and you get out the way.
I don’t know how much you actually know about basketball. You’re fun and stuff, but telling Joakim Noah to “pull it” from 18 feet early in the shot clock…just seems like a bad idea and you don’t know what you’re talking about.
You’re entertaining, though. I can’t overemphasize that enough. You have kept me and the very nice, very pretty girl I’m here with very entertained. So, thanks for that, Brown Sweatsuit. Preciate that.
The Thunder wind up winning because the Bulls were playing above their heads offensively and Kevin Durant exists and slams doors shut. You weren’t that mad, though. Pretty whatever about it, actually. And therein lies the genius of you, Brown Sweatsuit. You’ve got it figured out. You had a good time at that game. And even though your boys lost, you were gonna go have a good time when you left, too.
This ain’t life or death, this sports stuff. You get that. Don’t you, Brown Sweatsuit?