In which we read all about George and forget about Roger
And Roger Mason will throw .8 on the shot clock and Roger Mason will throw a three...
Bill Shoning's voice made a cold East Coast office space feel like a cricket filled night.
...it's an airball. End of the first quarter.
* * * * *
"Where was that gun?" Roger Mason thought as he walked to the bench. It was in his bag, he never left it out of his sight.
In the locker room, Roger thought about Gilbert Arenas, his old Wizards teammate who gave him the gun for safe-keeping. Gil was once everywhere. Where was he now? Agent Zero. Glory passes so quick. He picked up the book MIchael Finley left him -- still in the bag. He kept meaning to read it. Roger picked up his mobile instead and tweeted something ...
* * * * *
George handed the gold pistol to Popovich in the parking lot. He told his coach how he swiped it from Roger's gym bag, leaving DeJuan out of it. He only became unnerved when Pop did not erupt in anger.
Instead the coach chuckled, "It wouldn't have done him any good."
George looked his coach right in the eyes and lifted the hoodie of his Spurs practice pullover -- it was a cold night for April -- and started a jog toward the second farthest space in the parking lot.
Pop ran his thumb over the greasy waxed card he kept in coat pocket, the third of those he dealt that night with Manu: five of cups, the hooded man.
"George," Pop yelled before the young guard ran past earshot.
George Hill turned and jogged back toward his coach, eyes unwavering ready for instruction.
"Go out there and put your name in the papers."
Spurs 97, Mavericks 87