Whenever Clint Capela has entered a playoff game for the Houston Rockets this year, I’ve noticed a reoccurring theme internally; I’ve instantly become depressed. No, I don’t dislike Capela, his style of play or even his demeanor on the court, I honestly think it’s a certain level of disdain for myself. Capela, who is 20-years-old just like me, is in the NBA Playoffs going against the best in the world while I sit at home stuffing my face with Dominos pepperoni pizza. Why can’t I trade in a few slices of my pizza for a chance to hoop it up with James Harden?
In all seriousness, Capela has snuck his way into the Rockets’ rotation after being buried on the bench for the bulk of the season, and he’s made some impressive plays for Houston, like throwing down this nice slam on Los Angeles Clippers big man Spencer Hawes.
Maybe a few more slices of pizza and I’ll be gliding through the air like that, cramming the ball down on my friends’ heads in pickup. If not, at least my 20-year-old counterpart Capela is getting it done. Someone has to pick up my slack right?