TEAM DREAMS: Get to know the Sacramento Kings
Now a basketball team!
Yes, that’s right: for the first time in a decade, Sacramento has a basketball team! It’s not a good team, but it’s at least a coherently rebuilding one, with a few old guys to tell scary stories around the fire and plenty of youngsters to scream at, at every turn. These Kings won’t be perfect, and they will lose to the Suns, but they will help you find real, lasting happiness at least two or three times a game. There’s that there. More importantly, there’s Jack Cooley there.
GET TO KNOW THE SACRAMENTO KINGS
Bogdan Bogdanovic. Bogdan Bogdanovic, who is what would come out if you put Bojan Bogdanovic in a Cronenberg machine and pressed the “goddamn beautiful” button, begs the question: what if instead of the Jeff Koons takeoff on the Marlins home run sculpture in front of the Golden 1 Center, they had a massive rainbow statue of Bogdan Bogdanovic? We’re only a few years away from finding out.
Skal Labissiere is a Calipari-tainted teen dream who we may not love at first. But we can relate to him because Skal, like us, fucking hates the Red Cross.
Buddy Hield. If you put Buddy Hield in the Cronenberg machine and pressed the same button, Buddy Hield would come out. Buddy Hield is perfect.
George Hill. You hope that George Hill, a sort of joyless Mike Conley, contributes just enough to keep the Kings from being unenjoyably shitty. Anything beyond that would detract, aesthetically and spiritually, from the watching experience. The best thing you can say about George Hill is that he’s not George Karl — unless you’re on “basketball twitter,” in which case you cannot possibly praise George Hill enough…unless you’re on “weird basketball twitter,” in which case George Hill is boring again. Then you have to like Terry Rozier.
Zach Randolph. Jettisoned from Memphis because some asshole in 2016 bet 94 million dollars that Chandler Parsons would grit and grind, Zach Randolph will play out his career the same way he started it, as a man on a journey and as a great name for your bong.
The ghost of reggie evans. The ghost of reggie evans will still indiscriminately grab your scrotum. The ghost of reggie evans fucking sucks!
Tyreke Evans. MAN, remember Tyreke Evans? They don’t have him anymore.
Justin Jackson. Another good chap, here. High fun quotient because you can yell FLOATER!!!! whenever he touches the ball. Also: he sucks at basketball.
De’Aaron Fox. If the Lakers are going to be good again, then at least the Kings get to stress them out. De’Aaron Fox will haunt Lonzo Ball’s soul for eternity, which is much longer than the Lakers will be good for.
Willie Cauley Stein is both the finest poet in the Pacific Division and the tallest guy at Warped Tour 2007.
Harry Giles. Well hey, degenerative knees are the goddamn worst. It’s like, when Gordon Hayward snaps his leg, the whole league is thoughts and prayers, but who thinks and prays for Harry Giles? Harry Giles is in a much more dire situation. Thoughts and prayers for Harry.
Garrett Temple. 2017’s answer to Jordan Farmar, or the store brand version of George Hill, Garrett “Bartholomew” Temple is a guy that five people in internet history have really liked, albeit with transparently ashamed qualifying language.
Vince Carter. Blimey, the Kings have Vince Carter!! Fuck yeah! This team owns!
Giorgios Papagiannis. 1) More Rodin than Giacommetti. 2) Earlier this year, I tweeted an idiotic pizza pun relating to this player that got retweeted by Darren Rovell, and I bet you also have things you hate about yourself. 3) “Giorgios Papagiannis” is how you say George Hill in Greek.
Kosta Koufos. Gang loyalties forced Costa Coufos to change the spelling of his name. Sorry, running dry here.
Frank Mason and Malachi Richardson. Some more young guys, with some NBA2K-generated ass names.