Toronto Raptors
Toronto Raptors - The Second Rounders
Jun 22, 2017 2:43:46 GMT -5
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Post by Brian Scalabrine on Jun 22, 2017 2:43:46 GMT -5
Toronto, Canada -
With two days before the 2017 D720 draft, Kay Felder, Jake Layman, Ron Baker, and Joel Bolomboy sit together by candlelight in the Raptors locker room. With only two spots open on the roster, and six draft picks coming down the pipeline, the mood is tense.
"Did we do enough?" asks Jake Layman, contemplating both his job security and his very existence. "We have no way to know." responds Felder, "You know he could cut us at any time, he's ruthless."
At this moment, the rookies think of their team-mates who have come and gone. McRae. Young. Yi. Austin. And former forty-sixth pick, A.J. Hammons. A deafening silence fills the air.
When the silence breaks, it is D-League all-star Joel Bolomboy, "I'll say it: I'm better than Meyers. I'm better than Meyers right now."
"Shhhh!" cries Baker, "You know that the mamba has this room bugged."
"But it's true! I'm a better rebounder, defender, if I could just get the chance-"
"You think we don't know that? He nearly maxed Meyers, do you know what he would do to you if he heard you..."
The silence returns. The rookies look to the wall, at the poster of Malcolm Brogdon that reads, "Brogdon 4 ROY."
"It should have been me." says Felder, "He drafted ME first, he drafted me before ALL OF YOU-"
Just then, they hear the heavy footsteps of the man they wish to appease. He stands in the doorway, a menacing shadow obscuring his face, "Gentlemen," he starts, as he crosses toward them with dead eyes and an uncomfortable smile, "I've done a fine job to draft you all. I am proud of each and every one of you. Truly."
"Thank you, Master Scalabrine." they respond in rehearsed, monotone unison.
"I consider myself an excellent drafter. One of the best." he takes another step forward, the candlelight now reflecting sharply off of his pale mask, "And I'm only getting better."
He blows out the candle. As he walks away, his footsteps echo throughout the cold, concrete room that has become their prison. Echoing into the shivers down their spines, and the fear inside their palpitating hearts.
With two days before the 2017 D720 draft, Kay Felder, Jake Layman, Ron Baker, and Joel Bolomboy sit together by candlelight in the Raptors locker room. With only two spots open on the roster, and six draft picks coming down the pipeline, the mood is tense.
"Did we do enough?" asks Jake Layman, contemplating both his job security and his very existence. "We have no way to know." responds Felder, "You know he could cut us at any time, he's ruthless."
At this moment, the rookies think of their team-mates who have come and gone. McRae. Young. Yi. Austin. And former forty-sixth pick, A.J. Hammons. A deafening silence fills the air.
When the silence breaks, it is D-League all-star Joel Bolomboy, "I'll say it: I'm better than Meyers. I'm better than Meyers right now."
"Shhhh!" cries Baker, "You know that the mamba has this room bugged."
"But it's true! I'm a better rebounder, defender, if I could just get the chance-"
"You think we don't know that? He nearly maxed Meyers, do you know what he would do to you if he heard you..."
The silence returns. The rookies look to the wall, at the poster of Malcolm Brogdon that reads, "Brogdon 4 ROY."
"It should have been me." says Felder, "He drafted ME first, he drafted me before ALL OF YOU-"
Just then, they hear the heavy footsteps of the man they wish to appease. He stands in the doorway, a menacing shadow obscuring his face, "Gentlemen," he starts, as he crosses toward them with dead eyes and an uncomfortable smile, "I've done a fine job to draft you all. I am proud of each and every one of you. Truly."
"Thank you, Master Scalabrine." they respond in rehearsed, monotone unison.
"I consider myself an excellent drafter. One of the best." he takes another step forward, the candlelight now reflecting sharply off of his pale mask, "And I'm only getting better."
He blows out the candle. As he walks away, his footsteps echo throughout the cold, concrete room that has become their prison. Echoing into the shivers down their spines, and the fear inside their palpitating hearts.