Voss Takes You Home

wiggggings

You just watched Boyhood and Family of the Year’s “Hero” is playing in your headphones because it has the capability of making you nostalgic for an experience you never had. It is hot and the sweat is falling off you in rivers and onto the asphalt and you hear it sizzle on the ground and it is like someone is bringing you fajitas. Ahead the black of the road is waving at you and it looks wet and like the tide and you can see the sky in it. And you are tired. You are very tired.

Because you’ve been running. You’ve run twelve miles so far today and it is August and 98 and the sun is laughing at you because you don’t know where you are. You know you’ve gone twelve miles because your iPhone tells you as much but that is all you know because this road, this one right here, doesn’t look like any you’ve seen before.

And your hands are on your knees and your eyes are stinging and you wipe your hands on your mesh shorts and even they are hot and you think of sitting down but you know that will, quite literally, burn you. And you don’t want that, because you’ve already, quite figuratively, been burned. Burned by the team that drafted you. The team that made promises they went back on. The team who said they wouldn’t trade you.

But they’re going to. You know this. You’ve heard it from everyone. You’ve heard from your friends, your family, that small, weird looking white guy on SportsCenter. They all tell you that you’re getting dealt. And what do you think about it? How does it make you feel? Does it hurt? Do you wish they wouldn’t? Want to sell them on why they should keep you? Want to grovel? Do you? Because here is a mic and a camera and a nation that is concerned with you. Not for you. But with you.

And you try to say the right and polite thing. You’re Canadian and it is in your nature to behave in such a way. But it is getting harder because you’ve got upside and they’re just going to toss you elsewhere without even giving you a chance to use it to make a dent in people’s expectations of you. Yes, you are an unknown, but what an exciting time. You are an empty vessel. Clay that has yet to be molded. You could be an all timer, they don’t know.

Nobody knows. You are untapped potential. You are the number one overall pick. You are Andrew Wiggins.

And you are getting overheated. And it’s about time to pass out. Because you went out into the baking sun to try to run all the frustration off. To try to get away from all this trouble that a man you’ve never met has brought to your doorstep. And you ran yourself till you were lost.

But what, on earth, is that? That big white box of a dream up ahead. It’s getting closer to you. It’s a truck. A semi. You see that now. And it’s flashers are on and it is backing up. And as it gets closer you strain your eyes through the strands and strings of sweat that keep falling off you because you want to see just what kind of truck it is.

And when it gets near you it stops. And you see the letters. V-O-S-S. And you know that home found you. Out steps some angel of a man and he’s holding a clear and shining cylinder of hope. And that hope is a liquid. And it is water. And it is cold. And sweating like you are. And it is Voss. And you drink it heartily and pour it on yourself. And it falls off you like the sweat did and the fajitas are back once more, sizzling. But you are cool now, and getting cooler.

He asks you for a ride. And you say yes. And Voss takes you home, Andrew. It takes you home.

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