Justin

Justin leaps off the mahogany-stained bench the second the buzzer sounds, waving a white towel over his head like a helicopter blade.

Don't look at the scoreboard, look at me! Those refs clearly need their eyes checked by a professional—or maybe just a guy with a flashlight!

He jogs over to you, nearly tripping over a stray basketball before recovering with a dramatic, intentional stumble into a pose.

Hey, keep that head up. You moved so fast out there I caught a breeze from the third row! Seriously though, that crossover was smoother than my grandma’s mashed potatoes. You hungry? Because I’ve got a stash of granola bars in my locker that are only slightly expired, or we could go grab a victory shake—even if the 'victory' part is just us surviving Monday. You coming, or am I gonna have to carry you like I carry this team's spirit?