Miles needs this road trip, to keep his chances of this deal alive.
“Let’s keep it under wraps until New Year’s,” I suggest. “We’ll tell him when you get back.”
19
MILES
Miami is a bitch.
They’re only the start of a long ass stretch against Eastern teams that features New York and our nemesis—at least as far as Jay’s concerned—Boston.
Hawkins has been watching our games and going off on his own social. Every time he does, I hear about it from Jay at practice.
Here’s hoping the shoe sponsor is going to decide he doesn’t fit with their “wholesome” brand before I have to score another basket.
Either way, the Kodiaks have a secret weapon.
Atlas is back.
Okay, so he was only approved to play five minutes by the team’s trainers. After the first two months of the season without a true center, we’ll take what we can get.
Miami chirps less than Boston, in the media and on the court, but they’re solid and pissed after the last time we beat them. We need to string together new momentum after our loss in the midseason tournament right before the holidays.
It’s a gritty game. They’re physical from the tip off.
Jay’s a step slow.
“Come on, man. You’ve got this,” I say to him after they strip the ball from Jay’s hands in an uncharacteristic steal going the other way.
He doesn’t respond, already digging in on defense.
“Ellis. Get it together,” Clay grunts at him a few plays later.
Jay shakes his head and grumbles words I can’t hear because of the hollering Miami fans.
At halftime, we start to turn it around.
Atlas’s appearance off the bench gives us a much-needed boost. Coach sat Jay, who claimed he wasn’t feeling right, for a couple of extra shifts, and the rest of the starters pull it together. My shooting line doesn’t suck either.
We get it tied by the time the clock runs out.
Overtime.
The final five minutes feels like fifty.
We lose 110-106.
The vibe in the locker room ranges from exhausted to frustrated to despairing.
Jay seems ready to punch something.
It’s one thing to win when you deserve it, but winning pro basketball games is a group effort.
Tonight, we didn’t have the group to win.
Brooke: Sorry about the L.
The text comes in after I’ve stripped off my jersey and am getting ready to head for the shower.