Jordan Hamilton’s Finals Diary: Part II



Duuuuude. It was so hot in there. What’s happening that they can’t get this stuff square going into THE FINALS. This is not The Garden in the 70’s. Red ain’t involved in this.

We got LeBron cramping up and people acting like it wasn’t serious? I didn’t play a penny of a minute and last night in the hotel room my toes started to cramp up. My toes, Diary. Like, what on earth am I supposed to do if my toes are cramping, you know?

I was soaked on the bench. Should’ve taken my warmups off but I kept them on because of pride. I’m not one of those that takes off his warmup to look like he played. I get that warmup off me it’s because I played in the game, my man. Alright, I wasn’t dressed for this game. But apparently I need to be ready since anything can happen. Next game they might release a flock of bats to heighten off of yesteryear. You remember when that bat flew into their arena? 

All those sweaty San Antonians dripping all around me, shouting and screaming, their clothes smelling like Tex Mex food. I was worn out just sitting there. I tried to get some popcorn on the bench but that was a no go. Coach Spo frowns on food consumption on the bench for whatever stupid reason. Sometimes me and Greg sneak sour gummies when the game’s out of reach. We didn’t do that last night, though. It wasn’t meant to be.

Seen a girl in the stands that was looking some kind of fierce, though. That real and true hotness she was setting off. That inner fire. The one that burns like the Olympic torch: for the whole world to see. So lovely in the silver and black, her hair swaying as she’d fan herself. It’d rise away from her like a blonde wave and then rest again, only to be rolled on once more.

I get money, man. I know I don’t play but I DON’T PLAY, feel me? Let’s get this Game 2 over with so we can get back down to South Beach. I miss my linen shirts. I forgot them in my closet back home and I’m not about to shop here. No, Diary. I will not.

I wear things that make em say, “Yooooooooo.” That’s what I make them say. I make them say, “Yooooooool, hang on here. Yo, hey what do we have here? Schwat is this? Schwat, on Earth, is this?”

It’s me, baby. It’s Ham.

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