Every NBA team’s worst Thanksgiving road trip companion

Boston Celtics: Kyrie Irving

Starting somewhere around early 2017, every time Kyrie Irving opened his mouth I started wondering what life would be like without ears. There would be some advantages. My fiancee’s mom’s screaming macaw would no longer be an issue. Plus, I wouldn’t have to wear headphones to avoid having people talk to me at the gym.

On the other hand, I wouldn’t be able to listen to Bill Withers on vinyl ever again. And I wouldn’t be able to listen to The Lowe Post or Dunc’d On to get my basketball opinions prescribed to me. I’m not owed enough favors to get those transcribed. Also, hearing people’s voices, generally, is helpful.

But one of those voices these days tends to be Kyrie’s, and were I stuck in a car with him I’m not sure I could turn it off.

“How do you think an engine works?”

“I have a vague idea, Kyrie. There’s a chemical reaction that pushes a piston, the pistons turn some gears or something, and then that provides power to the wheels and propels the car forward.”

“Yeah, but have you ever seen it happen?”

“In a museum, yeah. There are some displays that that go through it piece by piece. But again, I don’t remember exactly.”

“No, I mean, while you’re driving. Have you ever seen your engine do what you’re told it does?”

“Like, watched my engine while I’m driving?”

“Yeah.”

“No, Kyrie. I have not.”

“Then how do you really know if that’s how it works?”

“I don’t, Kyrie. I guess I don’t.”

“Exactly.”