Justin Hamilton’s Finals Diary: Game 2


And that is more like it. That is the team and the LBJ that I know.

I didn’t dress for Game 2 either. We have a surplus of quality bigs, is what Spo told me, which isn’t true, but it’s nice to hear someone care enough about your emotions that they lie to you to keep you feeling alright.

I wore a charcoal grey suit and a white shirt with no tie because I will not be bothered by ties ever. I find them restricting and, if you take a step outside yourself and think on them with seriousness, they are quite ridiculous things to wear. They’re purely decorative, and I am not a vain man. I mean, I am, but not about fashion. I keep it too real to be concerned with the sartorial world too much.

Most days I wear mismatched Adidas track suits — black jacket, green pants, I am a forest — and they are breathable and comfortable and timeless. They will outlast ties. I know ties have a long and storied history but I’ve seen movies about the future and if the creatives of this world are any kind of right, ties got no place in the future. Nor do collars. But I am not waging a war against collars. So long as the one you got on is a shade of blue.

I worked hard in the shoot-arounds and practices leading up to Game 2 and I know that I got the team better because I got better. I will not claim that Chris’ fantastic Game 2 is on account of my incredible in-practice motor but I will also not tell you that I had zero to do with it. I put in work, homies, and the ladies of Miami love me for it.

We’re finally back in SB and the tan and golden women come out in droves and take a bite out of the ham because the ham tastes so good. I give them an all they can eat buffet of myself. I am a humanitarian. I am a man of the people and the animals.

If I can be even realer for a second, I invited a woman to Game 3. Her name is Marcella. I saw her at the pool that accompanies my apartment building and she was beautiful and her smile reminded me of Louisiana, of lava sunsets on Lake Pontchartrain with wind on me and a place to put my feet up because standing is for fools. Standing is for people with no use for relaxing and I have every use for relaxing.

I hope she comes. I don’t know that she will. We only talked once and it was brief and I am not good at being cool. She said she would, but that was a week and a half ago and I have not heard from her since then and I wish that I had. I liked how she talked. Her voice was slow.

I’ll let you know if I see her.


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