Like the super sleuth Columbo…I stalk the shadows of Wild Thing. Trying to calibrate this new metric I’ve created which is so far fucking superior to anything Nick Gallo or Royce Young ever talk about it’s literally laughable.
Literally laughable.
Jenni Carlson doesn’t even remotely know what I’m trying to communicate. Tramel gets it. He understands my brilliance. He smiles to himself knowingly. He envies me.
It’s my new metric…the Wild Thing Factor or to be brief….the WTF metric.
It’s how I calibrate various factors which to my trained eye tell me if Russell Westbrook will go all werewolf, start growing fur under his Thunder jersey, have his fingernails expand six inches… and start playing basketball like an out of control U10 player at your local YMCA.
Nick Gallo in his wettest dream only wishes he could write something like this just once. He can’t. He’d be fired before the words finished leaving his mouth.
Royce Young knows his millennials couldn’t connect the dots. They struggle with the abstract.
Like tornado forecasters… how do we predict a Wild Thing occurrence? I love the weather. Like Gary England in Boom Town…it fascinates me. I could have very well been one of these guys who chases tornados. I would love doing that for a living. I really would.
The Thunder play the Nets tonight in Brooklyn. Bad team, middle of the week, not much hype for the game, the Thunder are on a roll, everything is going well. Does the Wild thing appear from a dark cloud bank?
I study my charts. I glaze intently into the screen on my Wild Thing Dopler Radar. I recheck and triple check the Wild Thing Jetstream flow. I see no reason for a Wild Thing storm tonight. Not even a 20% chance. I’ve studied Westbrook. If he were smart he’d pick me to be the one who writes the NY Times bestselling nonfiction book on his basketball life. I’m not sure he’s this smart. We’ll see.