Patrick Beverley to Boulazac Basket Dordogne. Yes that Boulazac. No I will not be explaining where that is.
MY BROTHER IN CHRIST HE IS COMING TO THE DUCK FIELDS
Town population: 10,000
Arena capacity: 6,000
Attendance: 97%, one of the best in the league
Read that again. SIXTY PERCENT OF MY TOWN IS IN THAT BUILDING EVERY WEEK. There is no city. There is only the arena. Boulazac does not have a downtown, it has a tip-off. If you’re not at the Palio on a Saturday you are either dead or milking something.
Pat Bev has never played in front of a crowd that KNOWS HIM PERSONALLY. Section C is his baker. The guy screaming at the ref coached his teammate in U15. He’s going to get a technical and 5,800 people are going to be personally disappointed in him like he skipped a family lunch.
He’s about to guard a 6’8” Slovenian named Jean-Bapt who drives a tractor in the offseason. He will point at the scorer’s table. The scorer’s table is a folding table. The scorer is a man named Michel. Michel does not care. Michel has seen worse.
AND HERE’S THE THING.
There is a non-zero chance I run into this man at the local Intermarché. Aisle 4. He’s holding some French Wine bottle. He’s reading the label. He doesn’t know what it is yet. I say “Pat.” He says “what up.” WE HAVE NOW SHAKEN HANDS.
I am ONE PERSON from LeBron James. ONE. I’m in the fraternity at that point. Nike discount. Rich Paul has my number, he’s just busy.
My fiancée says this doesn’t count. My fiancée is currently ZERO degrees from a man who is one degree from LeBron and she does not appreciate what she has.
The loudest 6,000 people in France and a man who was born to be booed by them. Foie gras Finals run. Périgord Warriors. We’re so back and we were never here.