The Side Part: Week 6 – Turn it up high, Reggie
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In the movie Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story, White Goodman (Ben Stiller) is a surly, egocentric, mustachioed, douche of a man, and the owner of Globo Gym, a fitness empire and health monstrosity. He’s doing his best, throughout the movie, to both woo that girl from Hey Dude, and acquire Peter La Fleur’s (Vince Vaughn) gym, Average Joe’s.
Early in the movie, Goodman invites La Fleur over to discuss the potential acquisition and they have a nice, spirited walk and talk through the gym. At the end of their talk, Goodman hops into a tanning bed and says this:
Panel T-shirt Idea
First Panel: Scott Brooks, handlebar mustache on his face, stands next to a tanning bed wearing a purple, Globo Gym singlet. He’s jacked. Around his neck are those tanning bed sunglasses — let’s go ahead and make those yellow. Standing next to him in the same purple singlet is Reggie Jackson. He’s jacked. Reggie holds a basketball.
Second Panel: Brooks is laying down in the tanning bed. Reggie is now holding a tray with a suffocated kumquat and a protein smoothie on it. Brooks drinks the smoothie from the straw.
Third Panel: An oscillating fan is now at Brooks’ feet. Brooks has the sunglasses on. Reggie begins shutting the top of the tanning bed.
Fourth Panel: The tanning bed is shut and Jackson stands near a switch on the wall. A towel hangs from his neck. A talk bubble is above the tanning bed. It reads “Turn it up high, Reggie. I wanna burn.”
* * *
Reggie Jackson has been putting on laser light shows lately. He’s been dropping in floaters from somewhere just south of the Mesosphere and making smoothies out of whatever defenders decide to get between him and buckets. His current line, at a glance, is somewhat modest.
11.2 PPG, 3.8 RPG, 3.5 APG, 0.9 SPG
You’re probably not writing letters home about that. But then here come his Per 36 averages.
16.6 PPG, 5.7 RPG, 5.2 APG, 1.3 SPG
It seems, more and more, that Reggie’s game can be most appreciated by watching his pace. He’s never rushed, never flustered. He’s the basketball Doyle Brunson. He keeps his head and his dribble and he stays attacking, looking, searching for holes. Once he finds them it’s onward and upward to the rim.
Russ’s forays to the rim are the stuff of souped up tractors with wings. He’s just dozing over whatever’s in his way until he sees the whites of the rim’s eyes. Then he spreads his wings all Katniss’ dress in Catching Fire style and takes flight up to the orange to try to break his own wrist and everyone’s souls in the process.
Reggie’s aren’t as “Hulk, smash” as all that. His rubber legs are sneaky and the trampoline he hits as he goes up catches people off guard. He seems to always be going up slowly, like his leaps are the beginnings of rollercoasters that have huge climbs right before huge drops. His game has that hypocritical lull to it. He sings lullabies to you until you knock off. Then he grabs your Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles pillow and smothers your face.
His game has evolved and so too has the experience of watching him. Last year, after Russ’ injury, there was a good deal of worry when he had the ball. He played admirably (Playoff averages of 13.9PPG, 4.9RPG, 3.6APG), certainly, but there was little comfort on the viewing end if he had the ball in his hands late in games.
Now there’s this new ease to him, a calming kind of vibe. And when they put the ball in his hands in the 4th and he starts to put whoever’s guarding him in the torture chamber, it’s a lovely thing to watch. He’s managed to find his lane alongside Durant and Russ and he seems to have a genuine sense of the moment. He knows when to attack, and when to hold back. He knows when to turn it up to high. He knows how to burn.
