Millennials killed team loyalty: A day in the life of Anthony Davis

Anthony Davis hasn’t been inside an Applebee’s in a very long time.

“Maybe in high school,” he says as he spreads avocado over toast, “and I haven’t been inside a Buffalo Wild Wings since college. We watched Vanderbilt win the SEC Tournament there, but my tastes have evolved.” He says this while sitting inside the immaculate kitchen in the apartment he rents; he doesn’t believe in starter homes. “One day I’ll own a German castle, but in like one of the states that doesn’t have a property tax,” he says.

When Elfrid Payton spills a glass of wine, mind you, not beer, Davis reaches for a paper towel. “Napkins are too small,” he claims, “And towels, like cloth towels, are the optimum choice.” No napkins. No hops. No problems.

He wears his New Orleans uniform throughout the interview. A tour of his apartment reveals he doesn’t own any other clothes besides his New Orleans home and away uniforms and a University of Kentucky practice jersey. He shrugs, “I believe in experiences, not merchandise,” which is also why he aims to play for as many teams as possible.

He mentions LeBron James. He makes an analogy between the King and Steve Jobs. He Facetimes with Kevin Durant and Kawhi Leonard. Durant pecks at a breakfast sandwich during the conversation and bemoans the effort cereal takes to pour and eat and clean up after eating. Kawhi laughs. They are all Millennials, and they are all killing it. They have all killed traditional breakfast foods and, even as they laugh, they are killing laughter.

Anthony Davis says he doesn’t know what the future holds, but he’s so glad he never took up golf. He’s a minimalist. He just converted all his DVDs and Blu-Rays to a streamable format. Where would he keep his clubs? He doesn’t even own a motorcycle. He makes a quip about not being Bruce Wayne. He doesn’t seem to notice his eyebrow looks like a bat signal. His age group no longer uses mirrors, just photoshop or whatever’s better than photoshop. Something trending.

He likes Los Angeles, but Boston’s cool too. He says rivalries are best when friendly. He has friends everywhere. “Boogie? Yeah, we’re cool. Kyrie? Yeah, he’s cool too.” Everything is chill. Someone tell Anthony Davis to kill the word cool.

Greek Yogurt is dead. Anthony Davis only eats Phoenician.

In his bathroom, there are no bars of soap, only scented vapors. If he ever gets married, he plans on inventing a new kind of metal or mineral to take the place of diamonds. “I saw Blood Diamond before Leo won an Oscar.” Everyone saw Blood Diamond before Leo won an Oscar. No one still watches Blood Diamond, and who cares about the Oscars? Millennials murdered them years ago.

Anthony Davis doesn’t own a coffee table, but in front of the two lawn chairs that adorn his living room is an open bottle of fabric softener. He makes a point to mention he doesn’t know what fabric softener is but that the bottle makes a great vase for flowers. The flowers currently residing in the bottle of fabric softener are currently dead. A Millennial killed them.

“My next franchise is going to pay me via Venmo or BitCoin or whatever comes next. No more banks. CTC is such a Gen X thing.” Anthony Davis can’t find his wallet because he doesn’t own one.

Walking out his apartment one notices the odd shape of the building. “Used to be a Sears,” he says, which is funny because no Millennial has ever been inside one. His car is lunar-powered; he doesn’t trust oil or solar. “I just think what if you’re living a life where there is no what if.”

And that’s all Anthony Davis is trying to kill with every blocked shot, snared rebound, and offensive dagger.