Typical Day
Jay Screens is cool. Jay Screens is the man. He owns the court, swiping the ball from LeBron, flying down the court, and slamming it home. After his latest highlight-reel play, he’s scored the last 20 points for his team. The crowd goes wild, cheering his name in surround sound. Confetti falls from the rafters. Jay’s favorite song, Survivor’s classic hit, Eye of the Tiger, plays over the speakers. The music gets louder and louder and louder until finally, Jay can’t take it anymore. He opens one eye and greets the reality of the morning light pouring into his bedroom window.
Jay silences the music on his iPhone alarm. It’s 8am, time to start another day.
Jay slowly sits up. His muscles are screaming at him, sore from last night’s game. He looks down to find a giant bruise on his hip—last time he tries to take a charge from a center, he thinks to himself. It’s been an interesting season. The team’s not great and Jay’s been battling several nagging injuries. Needless to say, this is not the year he envisioned having, especially with his contract expiring in the spring. Who knows, maybe this is it for him. He’s been in the league for five years, a good run that many others would kill for. He knows that the average length of an NBA career is only four and a half years, but is he really just average?
Ugh, all of this worrying makes Jay break out in a cold sweat.
Unlike LeBron and Carmelo, Jay doesn’t have huge endorsement deals to supplement his salary. In fact, he only has the one—a small doughnut chain that has a doughnut called “The Big Dunk.” He doesn’t make much from the deal, but if he loses his spot on the team, they probably won’t want to keep him either. He should really count his blessings. At least he's still healthy. His buddy Chuck blew out his ACL last season and the doctors don’t think he’ll be able to play again. Chuck's currently working at his father’s car dealership, a thought that makes Jay shudder in fear.
Jay was a top recruit at the University of Arizona, before being picked in the first round of the NBA draft. But before he even got to the NBA, Jay was a star. He was the best player to come out of his city in years, and everyone predicted a lifetime of stardom and riches. Jay played every minute of every game in high school, not counting the few games he had to sit out due to his temper. He scored more points than anyone in the history of his high school, which was a big deal, considering that his school has produced three other big time NBA players.
But it’s been a rough adjustment to life in the NBA. Jay’s no longer the man, he’s simply Mr. Average. At six feet, nine inches tall and weighing 240 pounds, Jay is the average height and weight for a power forward in the NBA. He’s a veteran of the league, and with his 28th birthday just a couple of months away, he knows he might not have much time left.
Now don’t feel too sorry for Jay. After all, he makes almost $4 million a year playing the sport he loves. He’s also got that doughnut, well, dough, so he’s doing all right. At the same time, it’s tough not to compare himself to other players in the league. Every night when he watches SportsCenter, he’s reminded of the who’s who in the league. And being one of the who’s who comes with a pretty nice payday. Just ask Kobe Bryant, who banks about $64.5 million a year in salary and endorsements.
Jay could sit in bed and worry all morning, but he’s got to get going. He limps into the kitchen and grabs some ice for his back and feet. His back has been bugging him recently, a nice reminder of his age and the wear and tear this sport takes on your body. His feet feel fine, but he hopes the ice will work as a preventive measure, warding off future injury. Jay’s got a long day of practice in front of him, so he loads up with a power packed breakfast. He’s never been accused of not eating enough, and he plows through a meal that includes an egg white and cheese omelet, five slices of bacon, a deck of toast, a couple of cups of coffee, and a healthy dose of extra-strength ibuprofen. He quickly suits up, grabs his gym bag, laces up a pair of his favorite kicks, and heads down to his team’s training facility to work out. If this were a game day, he’d be going straight to the arena to prepare, but his team’s off for the next few days.
Pulling his Escalade into his spot at the training facility, Jay smiles while he greets the regular cast of characters that he sees each and every day. The routine is great, and Jay loves seeing peoples’ faces light up as he approaches.
Jay enters the locker room and finds his team in their normal places. Jason and Jared are playing cards—gin. Sean and Gary are parked in front of the TV, locked in an intense game of Madden. Mark sits in front of his locker, quietly rocking out with the biggest pair of headphones Jay's ever seen.
Jay walks over to his locker and finds he’s got a new neighbor. Oh well, that extra space was nice while it lasted. You’d think they'd have more room for guys who wear size 16 sneakers. Jay sheepishly smiles and introduces himself to the new guy.
“Oh Man, Jay Screens! I know exactly who you are,” squeals the new kid, a seven-footer who doesn't look older than 17.
Jay finds out that Mike, the new guy, is here to replace Ronnie, the team's starting center. Ronnie went down with an ankle injury last night, and apparently it's worse than they thought.
Jay pats the kid on the back, wishes him luck, and makes his way slowly into the trainer’s room. He doesn’t want to get injured, or have his place taken up by a kid who’s barely old enough to vote, so he spends as much time as he can working with the trainers to make sure his body is in tip-top shape.
Once the trainers do their thing, Jay jogs out to the court, where he undergoes an extensive stretching routine. The rest of the guys have slowly filtered out from the locker room and Coach Jones has them running through some plays he wants them to learn. They then transition to some intensive conditioning drills. The workout is grueling and after two-and-a-half hours of non-stop action, Jay is drenched in sweat.
He’s exhausted, but forces himself into the weight room, pumping iron for another hour or so.
On his way to the shower, Coach Jones calls Jay into his office. Jay enters and is shocked to find the general manager and his agent sitting on the couch. As Jay sits, his agent hands him a manila envelope. Jay opens it to find a contract offer for next season. Jay can hardly contain his excitement. It may not be Kobe money, but the peace of mind that comes with a guarantee for next season is just as good.
Jay thanks everyone and heads back to the locker room. The warmer water of the shower feels so soothing over his beat up body, and even though his body aches when he bends down to tie his shoes, he doesn’t mind as much today.
On his way out, the new guy calls out to him, “See you tomorrow, Jay.”
“Guess so,” Jay answers, a small grin on his face as he hobbles to his car. Jay grabs a couple burgers on the way home, and scarfs them down while watching highlights from the day’s games.