Jesse is stretching like an actual athlete. Silas is stretching like a musical theatre major.
“Behold!” Silas bellows, pointing at the board. “Witness the majesty that is…”
He winds up.
He throws.
He misses the entire court by three feet and nearly hits Karl.
“You wanna fight?” Karl bellows playfully.
“It curved!” Silas calls. “The wind is rigged!”
“There is no wind,” Jesse deadpans.
“There’s emotional wind,” Silas insists.
Jesse groans.
I laugh until I have to wipe tears.
Then Mitchell and Freddie are up.
Mitchell lines up like the board owes him money.
Freddie flirts with everyone in a ten-foot radius.
Penny acts as referee even though Pickle stole the actual whistle again.
Mitchell throws… bullseye.
Freddie cheers like he won a Grammy. “That’s my boy!”
Mitchell scowls. “Stop calling me your boy.”
“But you are my boy.”
“I will throw you.”
“You won’t.”
Mitchell sighs. “No. I won’t.”
Their dynamic is better than TV.
Olivia is coaching like her team is competing for the fate of the world.
Leo stands with military-level seriousness.
Karl flexes for the crowd again.
“Form!” Olivia shouts. “Elbow! Follow through! Activate your core!”
Karl winks. “My core is always activated, babe.”
Olivia throws a napkin at him.
I don’t understand any of the strategy. I don’t know what “airmail drag” is. I don’t know why Mitchell keeps muttering about bag friction.
