Welcome to D.C., Scott Brooks

Welcome to D.C., Scott Brooks

by Mike Riggs

WASHINGTON, D.C.–It rains in D.C., and your mood tanks.

You have to wear a a rain jacket that’s too big and you have to take the metro, and neither of those things really keeps you dry. (You’ve yet to buy an umbrella that can shield your big ass.)

A block from work, you are the surliest you will be all day. “Fuck this, fuck this, fuck this,” you think.

Then you look up and see him: Scott Brooks, the new head coach of the Washington Wizards. He is wearing a zip-up fleece and jeans and he’s carrying a large coffee from the place at 7th and E. His short blond hair is matted to his head and his clothes look soggy.

You walk past each other, and immediately the day feels just so much better.

You love the Wizards and you want good things for John Wall; for Colin Cowherd to stop maligning him and for the whole world to recognize that he is a superstar point guard and a good dancer and a good person.

The kind of person who befriends a sick little girl from D.C. and writes her name on his shoes before every game, and then, when she dies, goes off for 26 points and 17 assists against a very bewildered Brooklyn Nets squad, and then cries for his friend in the post-game interview.

And because you adore John Wall, you desperately want Scott Brooks–who helped Russell Westbrook and Kevin Durant grow into the players they are today–to now be the guy who helps John Wall become a true world-beater.
Thinking none of these things, but feeling them deep in your bones, you stop, turn around, and call out Scott Brooks’ name.

You are wearing a Wizards hat. It is wet out and Scott Brooks is clearly in a hurry. Do you look like a crazy person? An asshole? The kind of person who might ask for free tickets or make suggestions about free agency or the starting lineup; things that are egregious even when done in good weather? None of this crosses your mind.

Scott Brooks stops. He turns around, generously waits for you to close the gap. You stick out your hand and he takes it and you say, “I watched your press conference the other day, and I’m glad you’re here.”

“Thank you,” he says. “I appreciate that.”

Then you both go back to acting like it is raining out.

You didn’t used to care very much about basketball, and now you probably care a little too much. But you just met Scott Brooks in the rain and life feels grander for it.

Originally published on Facebook, republished with author’s permission