If you need more evidence that professional athletes don’t seem to be similar to you and me, look no further than the so-called NBA bubble. To finish its season under the illusion of security, the league has hijacked 22 of its group play station on the Disney World campus in Orlando, Florida. Placing the elite of society in its own miniature village during a pandemic sounds like the prologue to a dystopian novel, yet I’m happy and watched with anything else from the abandoned peasantry.
However, the biggest disparity between the star and the fan has been revealed through player criticism of their dining options. The kitchen itself is quite standard, otherwise it reminds a little of an extravagant lunch. With an all-inclusive menu, the only defect in bubble gastronomy is its unfortunate packaging.
There’s nothing less appetizing than a Styrofoam box. Jon Hamm and Gal Gadot can also become Styrofoam’s spokespersons, and will be the ultimate asexual substance and the least cornea to cheat on a meal. You can also serve me a bowl of perfectly roasted wagyu meat, but if it comes in something that squeaks when it moves, I would also be vulnerable to suffocating Kid Cuisine.
Still, the NBA’s culinary offerings are hardly worthy of the scorn they have received. Houston Rockets forward Ben McLemore shared a video in which he disdainfully remarks, “Not today,” at a neglected steak as if it were a revolting monstrosity like a hairy spider or the Rockets’ 27 consecutive missed 3-pointers in Game 7 of the 2018 Western Conference Finals.
For Joel Embiid, the great man of the Philadelphia 76ers, the difficulty is not quality, but quantity. With 280 pounds of natural almaximum muscle hanging from a 7-foot frame, it probably burns more calories when sneezing than me in a whole day.
While I cannot understand a great friend perceiving Embiid’s physical needs, I can sense his considerations about not having enough strength to compete this year. Unlike the pasta bowls in the olive garden, the recent playoff series of the 76ers have been eliminated in an endless way.
That said, the toughest judgment about the recent Lakers signatory of Los Angeles, J.R. Smith, who in one position has a complex food complex. In 2018, he gave a suspension of a game for throwing soup to the Cavaliers’ then assistant coach, Damon Jones.
Smith recently expressed his displeasure at his hotel’s healthier snacks, and insisted that he and his colleagues, like sports cars, prefer maximum fuel. Suddenly, his beloved would directly drain the clock in game 1 of the 2018 final because mistakenly the concept that his team wins has the ultimate productive meaning. Perhaplaystation Smith only sought to channel his inner Ferrari by blowing high-octane lead fuel in advance.
In the midst of all this negativity, the Miami Heat medium, Leonard Meyers, gave a glimpse of positivity when he tweeted exuberantly: “Mickey Mouse Waffles!” capitalized with a photo of 2 fluffy, gold-creating recreations of the Disney mascot.
Unfortunately, even Leonard’s testimobig apple might not be very reliable because he recently crowned himself “King of the Bubble” after knocking down a 12-ounce Coors Light in 2 seconds. Who knows if Leonard was the best friend who was excited about the taste of waffles or if he was just excited to have a soft, absorbent beer sponge in his abdomen the next time he had to bravely hold his throne?
Everyone has the right to allocate a percentage of their comments on what they eat, however, other Americans who prefer 6,000 calories at noon or who pay thousands of dollars in wine do not seem to be the most trusted critics.
Anyway, I’m going to voraciously consume all similar sports content. Maybe I’m not too different from Smith. Even if I can’t find the garbage he’s given me, that is, attractive, it’s that or nothing, so I guess we’re going to have some crap for a while.
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