Your Best Player Walks Into A Bar On NYE, 12/31/2048
Posted: Mon Jul 25, 2022 9:38 pm
Pacers:
Make no mistake, Herbert Jones loves LA. Stepping into Avalon Hollywood a day after his rough performance in the Crypto.com Arena, he knew his star power would still be high. Flanked by ladies, Herb had a high octane night spending a decent chunk of his $16m earned this season, first NYE drinking legally and all.
Nothing too exciting though, honestly. Got wasted, barebacked some broads (abortion’s still legal in CA but not IN so when in Rome, right?), and threw up in the airport before heading to DC before playing the Wizards the day after.
He’ll be alright.
Spurs:
What luck Genaro had to leave the FTX arena, hop in a stretch Escalade limo and dip over to LIV for libations and BBL’s galore?
“I AM THE NEW KING OF MIAMI,” all 6’ 11” of Montoya screamed from the top of his VIP table littered with empty bottles and panties. He called up Eazy P.
“Yo Eazy! Sign me to that Delmar and Killian Hayes money and send me out here to retire, I heard MIke Lowry’s Heat will take on a contract like that for sure. GET IT DONE!”
Genaro then ordered a round of bottles for everyone in LIV, dreaming about that Delmar / Hayes money that is sure to come; then, he fell flat on his face off the table and snored so loud it could be heard over the sounds of the club’s stereos. 14 people carried him out.
Knicks:
“Duuude, what happened?!” Kai said. “I’m in New York now, this is crazy! James Dolan done a poor job of piecing a team together besides me. What? He changed his name to Dr. James Kavarga?? What a weird guy that Dolan, I’ll take his max offer next year, though! HA!”
Kai left the bar and hopped in a limo to Times Square as the new saviour of New York. Everyone was surprised he was ready to just party with the crowd. Man of the people, that Kai Jones. He found a microphone and speaker:
“What’s up New York?! Yo, I hopped on a plane from Phoenix to NY just to be with you!! I’ll head to DC tomorrow and, look, we’re going to get that win back from them, okay? I had a chat with Volker about that foul-out on the inbound pass with 11 seconds left man, so unnecessary. Put the wrong guy on the line. I only had 4 fouls- he should have left the fouling to your new fouling king, Kai Jones! Then maybe Kristofer Leonardo’s clutch 3 would have won the game. Anyway we’ll get them back New York, Happy New Year! Now let my balls drop!”
Nets:
Dr. James Andrews sat in a smoke-filled bar, huffing a vape pen like he may never have access to one again. No one bothered to tell him to stop, especially after the routing he took here in New Orleans a few nights prior. He was too large and too upset, next to several empty highball glasses reeking of whiskey and absinthe from the town’s signature sazerac.
He rolled his eyes lolling his speech to the bartender, “I told that RPF to get me straight with a team or get me the hell out and he hasn’t done either one! So I keep going. I keep- you see Scottie Barnes a couple nights ago? 4 fouls over 8 minutes. Game didn’t even matter by that 4th, cuz we’d already lost to your Pelicans WAY before that. Yeah I know it’s another win for YOU, but what have i got going, eh? Nothing. Hell, RPF should send me to you for Ned Lomax, I’d sign that deal tomorrow.”
Dr. Andrews’s foot slipped on the stool and he grabbed the bar to steady himself. “Ah hell, that’s enough for the good Doctor. Good night sir.” Doctor James Andrews tipped the barman like a doctor with however many bills in his pocket - didn’t bother counting - and left.
Rockets:
“Why aren’t you good yet?” Jalen Suggs asked Alphonse Morelock, screaming over the loud music and celebratory dancing.
“Huh?” Alphonse asked.
“Bruh, you SUCK.”
“Shot better than you tonight, BRUH.”
“Let’s see who does better in free agency, huh, BRUH?”
“BOTH OF YOU SUCK,” Mitchell Robinson busted in. “You shorties might be faster than Daddy Mitch Rob,” he paused to hiccup, “but I can teach you about Daddy strength!”
Mitch wrestled both of them to the ground, knocking over multiple tables and people. The music stopped. Security ran over. Mitch suplexed one of them on top of Suggs, smashed a bottle over is head and held the shards to Morelock’s neck.
“Who sucks now, huh?”
“Don’t kill me.”
“CALL ME DADDY.”
“DON’T KILL ME DADDY!”
“Wouldn’t waste the notch on my bed post. I’ll be outta Houston next year anyway.” Mitch dropped Alphonse onto the pile of Suggs and the security guard. Mitch mumbled, leaving to walk down Sunset Blvd. “Can’t believe these losers are about to get more paid than I ever did…”
Blazers:
Kyle Kuric dragged Kofi Cockburn and Moses Moody out of Sacramento as soon as the game ended in another defeat to go on a bender in Montreal.
“Nice to hear the French accents in the cold instead of granola this and vegan that back in Portland, huh guys?”
They mumbled.
“It’s nice to hear all that ‘oui oui oui!’ and then you realize it’s a hockey town and people like to fight and it’s weird, right?”
Kofi and Moses mumbled curtly in unison.
“Gah, this sucks. You guys suck. Just like my time in Portland. When will my mid-PBSL-life crisis end??”
Pelicans:
Even 5 seasons ago, Luguentz Dort would have loved to be in LA on New Year’s Eve, but at this stage of his career, staying focused on excellence has paid off. No reason to jeopardize that. Still, not a terrible idea to grab a couple drinks at a comparatively quiet Old Man Bar up the road from the Marina.
Not so quiet after all. “Buncha kids…” Dort thought to himself. “Of course it’s ironic for old man Dort to go to Old Man Bar and be surrounded by a buncha kids, just like me and Kraig [Cornett] all the time. Hopefully Toni [Gauss from OKC] will shift some maturity back towards winning even more for these Pels.... Dunno how many more MVP seasons I got before my bones give and shoot, maybe we don’t even get a ring on one of these MVP fingers…”
A couple of Old Fashioned’s later, Dort steps back out for a walk toward the water, not caring if he makes it or not before calling a limo to pick him up. It was the right time to find a quiet street to call the wife and kids and wish them a Happy New Year.
Suns:
“I’m the best,” He Hor told Ronny. It was cold that night in Dallas. He Hor and Ronny Asher thought they were sitting easy on their double doubles a couple hours earlier, but for Ronny, the mood changed.
“I’m the best here for longer than you been here,” Ronny said, “and taller. So watch it, shorty.”
“That doesn’t mean anything-”
“That means I will FRYE you up if you wanna keep this up, so frye you, Hor.”
“Did someone say something about whores?” Daishen Nix interjected.
“No body cares about you, Nix!” Ronny and He shouted.
“Except you should.” Hor and Asher squinted back at Daishen. “I play fewer minutes, score more points, almost as many rebounds, more blocks, RONNY, better-”
Ronny stands up and over Daishen. Daishen stands back and challenges them to a duel. Ronny and He Hor just start punching him instead. Daishen reaches for a pistol but before he can do anything with it a whip cracks onto it, yanking it out of his hand and into Pistol Pete Maravich’s hand, saying “I’m still Pistol Pete, and that was pretty cool, huh? Now get lost or I’ll shoot all of yous!!!”
Clippers:
Dong Bone and Karlo Pearson walked in to the classiest of strip clubs with cigars in hand and “Stayin’ Alive” blasting out the stereo to the beat of their gait. Racking up yet another win over a Rockets team that had nothing going anyway, they still felt pretty good for this NYE.
Just as they sat down and grabbed some singles, ogling the nearest dancer, the needle scratched on the record player and everything stopped. There stood Safi Fino-A-Laself grinning behind the DJ booth.
“Enjoy it while you can old timers,” Safi said into a microphone, directly at Dong and Karlo. “I see you’re still the best, but not for long. Safi’s coming for that title of best player in LA.”
Safi threw on a new record and dropped the needle. The horns in Nina Simone’s Feeling Good rang throughout the club and the dancers started moving, but Dong and Karlo could not take their eyes off Safi, strutting away from the DJ booth toward the strippers, kicking his shoes off in time with Feeling Good, dropping his purple sport coat onto the floor to the cheers of the dancers now making way for Safi, who finished the striptease solo, down to his banana hammock, squatting butt first in front of Dong and Karlo before looking at them upside down between his legs, saying “It’s Safi time, bitches.”
Nuggets:
Following their 2nd consecutive loss, Makur Maker knew he had to cheer his team up, but what to do in Orlando, of all places, on New Year’s Eve?
“Disney World on me, boys!” Makur yelled to the lockerroom, to the surprise of many. “Look, I’m going to have a good time. There’s somewhere you can get drunk there, right? There should be fireworks, right?”
Johnny Davis and Dudley Carner decided to give it a whirl. They wandered until their first spotting of alcohol at some tequila spot in Epcot’s Mexico area and got wasted.
That’s it. That’s the story.
Bulls:
Charles Jarrett sat alone in a booth at Ed Debevic’s with a bottle of Malort in his pocket, sipping a White Claw at the table, not sure why, how, or when he became the veteran talent in Chicago. Even after welcoming Jericho Sims to the team, there did not seem to be much hope these days. Charles sipped some more Malort and texted Jericho but Jericho did not text back. He stared out the window, contemplating what 2049 would bring.
Why Ed Debevic’s? Why not anything else?
Another pull of Malort, and it started snowing. Happy New Year, Charles thought.
Lakers:
Brandon Boston Jr crawled down Bourbon Street after yet another 20 pt loss during his unfortunate tenure in a Lakers uniform. The crazy greeple shipped away any chance he had of a decent season in the twilight of his career - perhaps the last year he was worth anything at all. Having never been down Bourbon Street before, he walked until he found sazerac and had one. Then he found another bar with a goofy large cup with booze in it. Gross.
“Brandon Boston Jr.? Is that you?” Brandon turned and saw Dr. James Andrews walking his way. “It is you, huh? Hey, what a surprise!”
“Surprise indeed,” Brandon said. “Your Nets suck just as bad as my Lakers, and we’re each carrying our own crap team like a burnt out torch.”
“I know, right? I’ll bet you $10,000 Doctor Dollars that I can drink more sazeracs than you!”
“Frye it, you’re on,” and that was the last thing either of them remembered that NYE.
Mavs:
Leaving the Footprint Center for the nearest bar, Barrett Kuykendall looked back and thought that as much as Phoenix sucks, he was sure he’d be happier here than back in Dallas with his team in shambles in the prime of his career.
“New management could be promising,” Barrett thought, turning back and limping toward a bar not afraid to pour triples of whiskey - one triple for each of his 8 threes he drained earlier that night, bravely carrying his once great Mavs toward yet another embarrassing defeat.
Magic:
Kory Manley looks at his phone and sees a text from tonight’s opponent’s star, Makur Maker. Disneyworld, huh? With Makur Maker? Wow…
Wizards:
Lights were flashing everywhere this NYE at Echostage in DC. ChoBojo stood on the ledge of the mezzanine in a leather jacket and underwear, reeling in the victories he brought his team this year, including a couple nights ago against the Bulls, even if his individual performance left something to be desired.
Staring at the crowd below, ChoBojo could only match their energy, leaving his party to worry that he would fall off the balcony - all 6’ 10” of him - onto a partying and unsuspecting crowd below. ChoBojo could not care less, though. He was finally the star of the team and no one stood above him. He ruled DC this NYE, envisioning a deep playoff run soon to come.
Jazz:
“Here we go, another NYE in the least party city in the country,” Talen Horton-Tucker lamented.
“Boy, we sure did have some decent ones in Chicago though, huh THT?” Les Kim asked.
“I bet you guys did,” Zaire Wade said. “Out in OKC, ya know, we definitely knew how to party - don’t get me wrong. And Milwaukee wasn’t too bad either, but I have yet to really live life in a big city like Chicago on NYE.”
“Chicago? Zaire, you should see a NYE party in LA!” Les Kim said. “So many nasty freaks baring their cheeks on the streets - it’s not that cold in LA, not even in January, man. Think about that.”
“Come on now Les, even in Chicago we saw some nasty freaks in the club,” THT said. “It’s not like they wore sweaters n sh*t on the dancefloor. They wore them big ass coats because they didn’t wear sh*t underneath!”
They all laughed.
“Yeah, being the best player on the team too, I-”
“Excuse me?” Les interrupted THT. “The what?”
“Les, you’re solid, don’t get me wrong. But let’s be real. In Chicago and now in Utah too, I’m the man.”
“Hold up,” Zaire interjected. “You ain’t the best on the team. You’re on Zaire’s team in Utah, don’t get it twisted.”
“You’re both crazy, wow,” Les said. “I’ll whoop both of you 2-on-1 right now. Forget basketball, I’ll beat that ass.”
“Bro, it’s not even like that,” Zaire said.
“Oh you tough now Les, huh? Go ahead, DO something.” THT said.
“Your wife thought I was pretty tough when I was nailin’ dat ass last night, haha!” Les high fived Zaire.
“I thought you were done making a cuck out of me…”
“THT, you a life long cuck man. Life long. Cuck. For life.”
Talen didn’t know what to say. Why bring up the past like this? It was like a dream. Everyone was so blasted that one weekend, and him and Jeanette talked it out and made amends a long time ago. It wouldn’t happen again. But here Les goes flapping his mouth off. Talen was ready to close it.
“Frye you, you Fryeing salad-tossing slut”
Zaire walked away. THT and Les started throwing blows. Zaire came back with pepper spray, a smoke grenade and a Bible from a guy standing outside the club. When the smoke cleared, THT and Les held each other crying, apologizing, ready to buy each other the next round.
76ers: Myke Henry
Is this 3000 words yet? Ugh, no one cares about Philly
Kings:
Fresh off a big win against a bad Portland, Killian Hayes went to NYC for NYE so he wouldn’t have to travel hungover for the game against the Knicks on the 2nd. Kai Jones had sent out a group text to say to look him up because he’d be out, but Killian Hayes did not need a wing man.
He was Killian Fryeing Hayes.
Killian dropped a good chunk of his half a billion dollar contract on a Manhattan penthouse for the night with 5 of its own bars, 50’000 square feet of space across multiple floors, and enough strippers to fill the entirety of his giant master suite, disseminated throughout the space as sexy hosts and waitresses willing to make good on a few extra requests for the right sized tip.
Killian had sex. Presumably more than once.
Thunder:
Antonio Blakeney elected not to be included in this media article for fear it would hurt his public persona. We get it, dude. It’s only turning 2049 in OKC once.
Cavs:
Michael Sneed walked into to his favorite Cleveland pub and slid into a booth in the corner, setting his walker aside. He shakily raised his arm with his pointer finger curled, gesturing toward the bartender who winked back. Sneed lowered his arm, visibly wincing in pain.
Balling out in Cleveland last year took a lot out of the man. Perhaps more than any of us could have ever realized.
Pistons:
“Hey Alex?” Gerry Folse asked.
“Yeah?”
“Remember how much I got passed around before you and I both landed back together in Detroit?”
“Yeah.”
“Crazy, huh? I bet all those other teams regret passing on us now, huh?”
“Yeah…”
“What’s wrong with you, man? Got a wedgie or something? Pull that cloth out of your crack then and get me a drink.”
Alex Caruso had a hard time forgetting the challenges he had earlier in his career. They all magically disappeared the moment he landed in Detroit. It was strange for him to think that anything used to be challenging at all.
With Motown blaring in the background and Gerry flagging down some women to sit with them at the table, Alex thought about how he might get injured next. How it might feel to feel anything again at all…
Bucks:
Saddiq Bey walked into a bar up the road after sonning Xue Huo and surveyed the scene. He’d partied in Denver so many recent NYE’s that, walking into a strange place knowing no one? He went home and went to bed instead. Gotta stay rested to stay great, he thought, dreaming of his first championship and hopefully his first MVP year, too…
Raptors:
“MY CAREER WAS MORE WASTED THAN I AM RIGHT NOW,” Fang Shuo sang around the bar to anyone who would listen. Toronto didn’t care. They thought it was hilarious. Grandpa Drake bet $50m that Fang would help the Raptors bring home their first title in over a decade.
Heat:
Luigi Leathers, Paul Cassel, Emoni Bates, and Tex Harrison walked into a bar; Immanuel Quickley didn’t leave.
Timberwolves: Gary Giles
Can you believe this is the best player on this team???
Hawks: Kostas Antetokounmpo
What in the actual frye was this contract dumping anyway
Make no mistake, Herbert Jones loves LA. Stepping into Avalon Hollywood a day after his rough performance in the Crypto.com Arena, he knew his star power would still be high. Flanked by ladies, Herb had a high octane night spending a decent chunk of his $16m earned this season, first NYE drinking legally and all.
Nothing too exciting though, honestly. Got wasted, barebacked some broads (abortion’s still legal in CA but not IN so when in Rome, right?), and threw up in the airport before heading to DC before playing the Wizards the day after.
He’ll be alright.
Spurs:
What luck Genaro had to leave the FTX arena, hop in a stretch Escalade limo and dip over to LIV for libations and BBL’s galore?
“I AM THE NEW KING OF MIAMI,” all 6’ 11” of Montoya screamed from the top of his VIP table littered with empty bottles and panties. He called up Eazy P.
“Yo Eazy! Sign me to that Delmar and Killian Hayes money and send me out here to retire, I heard MIke Lowry’s Heat will take on a contract like that for sure. GET IT DONE!”
Genaro then ordered a round of bottles for everyone in LIV, dreaming about that Delmar / Hayes money that is sure to come; then, he fell flat on his face off the table and snored so loud it could be heard over the sounds of the club’s stereos. 14 people carried him out.
Knicks:
“Duuude, what happened?!” Kai said. “I’m in New York now, this is crazy! James Dolan done a poor job of piecing a team together besides me. What? He changed his name to Dr. James Kavarga?? What a weird guy that Dolan, I’ll take his max offer next year, though! HA!”
Kai left the bar and hopped in a limo to Times Square as the new saviour of New York. Everyone was surprised he was ready to just party with the crowd. Man of the people, that Kai Jones. He found a microphone and speaker:
“What’s up New York?! Yo, I hopped on a plane from Phoenix to NY just to be with you!! I’ll head to DC tomorrow and, look, we’re going to get that win back from them, okay? I had a chat with Volker about that foul-out on the inbound pass with 11 seconds left man, so unnecessary. Put the wrong guy on the line. I only had 4 fouls- he should have left the fouling to your new fouling king, Kai Jones! Then maybe Kristofer Leonardo’s clutch 3 would have won the game. Anyway we’ll get them back New York, Happy New Year! Now let my balls drop!”
Nets:
Dr. James Andrews sat in a smoke-filled bar, huffing a vape pen like he may never have access to one again. No one bothered to tell him to stop, especially after the routing he took here in New Orleans a few nights prior. He was too large and too upset, next to several empty highball glasses reeking of whiskey and absinthe from the town’s signature sazerac.
He rolled his eyes lolling his speech to the bartender, “I told that RPF to get me straight with a team or get me the hell out and he hasn’t done either one! So I keep going. I keep- you see Scottie Barnes a couple nights ago? 4 fouls over 8 minutes. Game didn’t even matter by that 4th, cuz we’d already lost to your Pelicans WAY before that. Yeah I know it’s another win for YOU, but what have i got going, eh? Nothing. Hell, RPF should send me to you for Ned Lomax, I’d sign that deal tomorrow.”
Dr. Andrews’s foot slipped on the stool and he grabbed the bar to steady himself. “Ah hell, that’s enough for the good Doctor. Good night sir.” Doctor James Andrews tipped the barman like a doctor with however many bills in his pocket - didn’t bother counting - and left.
Rockets:
“Why aren’t you good yet?” Jalen Suggs asked Alphonse Morelock, screaming over the loud music and celebratory dancing.
“Huh?” Alphonse asked.
“Bruh, you SUCK.”
“Shot better than you tonight, BRUH.”
“Let’s see who does better in free agency, huh, BRUH?”
“BOTH OF YOU SUCK,” Mitchell Robinson busted in. “You shorties might be faster than Daddy Mitch Rob,” he paused to hiccup, “but I can teach you about Daddy strength!”
Mitch wrestled both of them to the ground, knocking over multiple tables and people. The music stopped. Security ran over. Mitch suplexed one of them on top of Suggs, smashed a bottle over is head and held the shards to Morelock’s neck.
“Who sucks now, huh?”
“Don’t kill me.”
“CALL ME DADDY.”
“DON’T KILL ME DADDY!”
“Wouldn’t waste the notch on my bed post. I’ll be outta Houston next year anyway.” Mitch dropped Alphonse onto the pile of Suggs and the security guard. Mitch mumbled, leaving to walk down Sunset Blvd. “Can’t believe these losers are about to get more paid than I ever did…”
Blazers:
Kyle Kuric dragged Kofi Cockburn and Moses Moody out of Sacramento as soon as the game ended in another defeat to go on a bender in Montreal.
“Nice to hear the French accents in the cold instead of granola this and vegan that back in Portland, huh guys?”
They mumbled.
“It’s nice to hear all that ‘oui oui oui!’ and then you realize it’s a hockey town and people like to fight and it’s weird, right?”
Kofi and Moses mumbled curtly in unison.
“Gah, this sucks. You guys suck. Just like my time in Portland. When will my mid-PBSL-life crisis end??”
Pelicans:
Even 5 seasons ago, Luguentz Dort would have loved to be in LA on New Year’s Eve, but at this stage of his career, staying focused on excellence has paid off. No reason to jeopardize that. Still, not a terrible idea to grab a couple drinks at a comparatively quiet Old Man Bar up the road from the Marina.
Not so quiet after all. “Buncha kids…” Dort thought to himself. “Of course it’s ironic for old man Dort to go to Old Man Bar and be surrounded by a buncha kids, just like me and Kraig [Cornett] all the time. Hopefully Toni [Gauss from OKC] will shift some maturity back towards winning even more for these Pels.... Dunno how many more MVP seasons I got before my bones give and shoot, maybe we don’t even get a ring on one of these MVP fingers…”
A couple of Old Fashioned’s later, Dort steps back out for a walk toward the water, not caring if he makes it or not before calling a limo to pick him up. It was the right time to find a quiet street to call the wife and kids and wish them a Happy New Year.
Suns:
“I’m the best,” He Hor told Ronny. It was cold that night in Dallas. He Hor and Ronny Asher thought they were sitting easy on their double doubles a couple hours earlier, but for Ronny, the mood changed.
“I’m the best here for longer than you been here,” Ronny said, “and taller. So watch it, shorty.”
“That doesn’t mean anything-”
“That means I will FRYE you up if you wanna keep this up, so frye you, Hor.”
“Did someone say something about whores?” Daishen Nix interjected.
“No body cares about you, Nix!” Ronny and He shouted.
“Except you should.” Hor and Asher squinted back at Daishen. “I play fewer minutes, score more points, almost as many rebounds, more blocks, RONNY, better-”
Ronny stands up and over Daishen. Daishen stands back and challenges them to a duel. Ronny and He Hor just start punching him instead. Daishen reaches for a pistol but before he can do anything with it a whip cracks onto it, yanking it out of his hand and into Pistol Pete Maravich’s hand, saying “I’m still Pistol Pete, and that was pretty cool, huh? Now get lost or I’ll shoot all of yous!!!”
Clippers:
Dong Bone and Karlo Pearson walked in to the classiest of strip clubs with cigars in hand and “Stayin’ Alive” blasting out the stereo to the beat of their gait. Racking up yet another win over a Rockets team that had nothing going anyway, they still felt pretty good for this NYE.
Just as they sat down and grabbed some singles, ogling the nearest dancer, the needle scratched on the record player and everything stopped. There stood Safi Fino-A-Laself grinning behind the DJ booth.
“Enjoy it while you can old timers,” Safi said into a microphone, directly at Dong and Karlo. “I see you’re still the best, but not for long. Safi’s coming for that title of best player in LA.”
Safi threw on a new record and dropped the needle. The horns in Nina Simone’s Feeling Good rang throughout the club and the dancers started moving, but Dong and Karlo could not take their eyes off Safi, strutting away from the DJ booth toward the strippers, kicking his shoes off in time with Feeling Good, dropping his purple sport coat onto the floor to the cheers of the dancers now making way for Safi, who finished the striptease solo, down to his banana hammock, squatting butt first in front of Dong and Karlo before looking at them upside down between his legs, saying “It’s Safi time, bitches.”
Nuggets:
Following their 2nd consecutive loss, Makur Maker knew he had to cheer his team up, but what to do in Orlando, of all places, on New Year’s Eve?
“Disney World on me, boys!” Makur yelled to the lockerroom, to the surprise of many. “Look, I’m going to have a good time. There’s somewhere you can get drunk there, right? There should be fireworks, right?”
Johnny Davis and Dudley Carner decided to give it a whirl. They wandered until their first spotting of alcohol at some tequila spot in Epcot’s Mexico area and got wasted.
That’s it. That’s the story.
Bulls:
Charles Jarrett sat alone in a booth at Ed Debevic’s with a bottle of Malort in his pocket, sipping a White Claw at the table, not sure why, how, or when he became the veteran talent in Chicago. Even after welcoming Jericho Sims to the team, there did not seem to be much hope these days. Charles sipped some more Malort and texted Jericho but Jericho did not text back. He stared out the window, contemplating what 2049 would bring.
Why Ed Debevic’s? Why not anything else?
Another pull of Malort, and it started snowing. Happy New Year, Charles thought.
Lakers:
Brandon Boston Jr crawled down Bourbon Street after yet another 20 pt loss during his unfortunate tenure in a Lakers uniform. The crazy greeple shipped away any chance he had of a decent season in the twilight of his career - perhaps the last year he was worth anything at all. Having never been down Bourbon Street before, he walked until he found sazerac and had one. Then he found another bar with a goofy large cup with booze in it. Gross.
“Brandon Boston Jr.? Is that you?” Brandon turned and saw Dr. James Andrews walking his way. “It is you, huh? Hey, what a surprise!”
“Surprise indeed,” Brandon said. “Your Nets suck just as bad as my Lakers, and we’re each carrying our own crap team like a burnt out torch.”
“I know, right? I’ll bet you $10,000 Doctor Dollars that I can drink more sazeracs than you!”
“Frye it, you’re on,” and that was the last thing either of them remembered that NYE.
Mavs:
Leaving the Footprint Center for the nearest bar, Barrett Kuykendall looked back and thought that as much as Phoenix sucks, he was sure he’d be happier here than back in Dallas with his team in shambles in the prime of his career.
“New management could be promising,” Barrett thought, turning back and limping toward a bar not afraid to pour triples of whiskey - one triple for each of his 8 threes he drained earlier that night, bravely carrying his once great Mavs toward yet another embarrassing defeat.
Magic:
Kory Manley looks at his phone and sees a text from tonight’s opponent’s star, Makur Maker. Disneyworld, huh? With Makur Maker? Wow…
Wizards:
Lights were flashing everywhere this NYE at Echostage in DC. ChoBojo stood on the ledge of the mezzanine in a leather jacket and underwear, reeling in the victories he brought his team this year, including a couple nights ago against the Bulls, even if his individual performance left something to be desired.
Staring at the crowd below, ChoBojo could only match their energy, leaving his party to worry that he would fall off the balcony - all 6’ 10” of him - onto a partying and unsuspecting crowd below. ChoBojo could not care less, though. He was finally the star of the team and no one stood above him. He ruled DC this NYE, envisioning a deep playoff run soon to come.
Jazz:
“Here we go, another NYE in the least party city in the country,” Talen Horton-Tucker lamented.
“Boy, we sure did have some decent ones in Chicago though, huh THT?” Les Kim asked.
“I bet you guys did,” Zaire Wade said. “Out in OKC, ya know, we definitely knew how to party - don’t get me wrong. And Milwaukee wasn’t too bad either, but I have yet to really live life in a big city like Chicago on NYE.”
“Chicago? Zaire, you should see a NYE party in LA!” Les Kim said. “So many nasty freaks baring their cheeks on the streets - it’s not that cold in LA, not even in January, man. Think about that.”
“Come on now Les, even in Chicago we saw some nasty freaks in the club,” THT said. “It’s not like they wore sweaters n sh*t on the dancefloor. They wore them big ass coats because they didn’t wear sh*t underneath!”
They all laughed.
“Yeah, being the best player on the team too, I-”
“Excuse me?” Les interrupted THT. “The what?”
“Les, you’re solid, don’t get me wrong. But let’s be real. In Chicago and now in Utah too, I’m the man.”
“Hold up,” Zaire interjected. “You ain’t the best on the team. You’re on Zaire’s team in Utah, don’t get it twisted.”
“You’re both crazy, wow,” Les said. “I’ll whoop both of you 2-on-1 right now. Forget basketball, I’ll beat that ass.”
“Bro, it’s not even like that,” Zaire said.
“Oh you tough now Les, huh? Go ahead, DO something.” THT said.
“Your wife thought I was pretty tough when I was nailin’ dat ass last night, haha!” Les high fived Zaire.
“I thought you were done making a cuck out of me…”
“THT, you a life long cuck man. Life long. Cuck. For life.”
Talen didn’t know what to say. Why bring up the past like this? It was like a dream. Everyone was so blasted that one weekend, and him and Jeanette talked it out and made amends a long time ago. It wouldn’t happen again. But here Les goes flapping his mouth off. Talen was ready to close it.
“Frye you, you Fryeing salad-tossing slut”
Zaire walked away. THT and Les started throwing blows. Zaire came back with pepper spray, a smoke grenade and a Bible from a guy standing outside the club. When the smoke cleared, THT and Les held each other crying, apologizing, ready to buy each other the next round.
76ers: Myke Henry
Is this 3000 words yet? Ugh, no one cares about Philly
Kings:
Fresh off a big win against a bad Portland, Killian Hayes went to NYC for NYE so he wouldn’t have to travel hungover for the game against the Knicks on the 2nd. Kai Jones had sent out a group text to say to look him up because he’d be out, but Killian Hayes did not need a wing man.
He was Killian Fryeing Hayes.
Killian dropped a good chunk of his half a billion dollar contract on a Manhattan penthouse for the night with 5 of its own bars, 50’000 square feet of space across multiple floors, and enough strippers to fill the entirety of his giant master suite, disseminated throughout the space as sexy hosts and waitresses willing to make good on a few extra requests for the right sized tip.
Killian had sex. Presumably more than once.
Thunder:
Antonio Blakeney elected not to be included in this media article for fear it would hurt his public persona. We get it, dude. It’s only turning 2049 in OKC once.
Cavs:
Michael Sneed walked into to his favorite Cleveland pub and slid into a booth in the corner, setting his walker aside. He shakily raised his arm with his pointer finger curled, gesturing toward the bartender who winked back. Sneed lowered his arm, visibly wincing in pain.
Balling out in Cleveland last year took a lot out of the man. Perhaps more than any of us could have ever realized.
Pistons:
“Hey Alex?” Gerry Folse asked.
“Yeah?”
“Remember how much I got passed around before you and I both landed back together in Detroit?”
“Yeah.”
“Crazy, huh? I bet all those other teams regret passing on us now, huh?”
“Yeah…”
“What’s wrong with you, man? Got a wedgie or something? Pull that cloth out of your crack then and get me a drink.”
Alex Caruso had a hard time forgetting the challenges he had earlier in his career. They all magically disappeared the moment he landed in Detroit. It was strange for him to think that anything used to be challenging at all.
With Motown blaring in the background and Gerry flagging down some women to sit with them at the table, Alex thought about how he might get injured next. How it might feel to feel anything again at all…
Bucks:
Saddiq Bey walked into a bar up the road after sonning Xue Huo and surveyed the scene. He’d partied in Denver so many recent NYE’s that, walking into a strange place knowing no one? He went home and went to bed instead. Gotta stay rested to stay great, he thought, dreaming of his first championship and hopefully his first MVP year, too…
Raptors:
“MY CAREER WAS MORE WASTED THAN I AM RIGHT NOW,” Fang Shuo sang around the bar to anyone who would listen. Toronto didn’t care. They thought it was hilarious. Grandpa Drake bet $50m that Fang would help the Raptors bring home their first title in over a decade.
Heat:
Luigi Leathers, Paul Cassel, Emoni Bates, and Tex Harrison walked into a bar; Immanuel Quickley didn’t leave.
Timberwolves: Gary Giles
Can you believe this is the best player on this team???
Hawks: Kostas Antetokounmpo
What in the actual frye was this contract dumping anyway