#my bird hoard is gonna double today

[zeledonia]

THANK YOU FLIGHT RISING I want 836478347 of them

[encyclopika]

18 & 20 For the ask game!!!!!!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH KAT!!! <3 God this is long.

From this writer’s ask game...feel free to send me some asks!!! :D

Gonna link the stories here for reference and for anyone interested in reading!

The Missing Series // Fire and Brimstone

--

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

Yes, ma’am! First I’m going to say that most do not, but the Missing series, particularly all that concerning Asuka and Ai, does in a big way...particularly the completely altered timeline that follows them if she doesn’t go away. You’ve seen the comic, where Ai doesn’t lose her nerve that snowy day and makes it obvious to him she also has stock in a deeper relationship. Yeah, that one. I’m currently working on more short comics from that timeline. Not necessarily a whole story, but snippets from that fluffier timeline. But that also means a few things happen differently - for one, Krow doesn’t join the Ryukyu offices, mostly because, in that timeline, he’s allowed to fulfill his own heroic story faster than he can in Missing. He’s not actually a rescue hero, but he doesn’t have Ai around in the main series to come into that as quickly. 

I also almost went harder on Ochako’s duality in Missing, almost making Uravity a separate entity that was starting to hate Ochako’s bullshit. I honestly hated that and clearly didn’t do that. Instead, the duality is more “in her head” than anything. This idea kinda comes out in Krow and Asuka instead.

Additionally, there was, once upon a time, an alternative “Missing”, in which Deku chooses not to return to Tokyo for the Pyromancer case, and Ochako faces him alone. It gets obnoxiously dark and gritty, to the point where I’ve taken that OnO fuel and split it between Escape Artists and my little-known horror project Downpour I’ve been working on in not-secret. But, yeah, that’s definitely an abandoned plotline...*shudders*.

There are small details here and there that I changed in both Missing and Missing Out that created alts, mostly concerning Deku and how he fights baddies/figures things out, name changes for OCs, The Ring’s and Pyromancer’s whole identities changed, and Irina’s characterization has really gone through the ringer (from being another lovable asshole bird like Krow that simply gets on his nerves, to being a dangerous, but important antagonist). I also had Deku introduce the idea that people’s quirks can kill them in Missing because I intended to explore it more, and I’m not sure if that’s totally abandoned... 

Thanks for asking this one. <3

--

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

Yes. 

All of that. I don’t wanna toot my own horn, but I live for hidden messages, references, callbacks, foreshadowing and symbolism. The Missing series (and to a lesser extent, Fire and Brimstone) is simply overflowing with these things...there’s so much that even with all of the people who have read it, there are still gems and Easter Eggs left to be discovered. And, before I get into it and make this post obscenely long, my reasoning for doing this is simple - I want you to read my fics again...I want to have reread value. 

I’m going to put it under a cut in case anyone wants to discover them for themselves and also general spoils. Here are the ones I’m MOST proud of or that make me laugh or, dare I say it, make me feel smart. This is not an exhaustive list, and of course, I’m not pointing out any future Missing series meta for sake of spoilers.

Titling 

Titles, titles, titles, girl you know I love titles. I’m a title SNOB. And I do A LOT of fun things with titles, such as:

1. Using the title of the fic as a buzz word and callback to the theme. 

I get real obnoxious with this in the Missing series. The overarching theme of Missing is, well, missing people, particularly in the vain of heartache, loss, and longing. And I put it everywhere:

From Missed Chance:

Despite keeping steadfast to her goals and to her future, she knew that for a long time, she'd be missing him.

From Missing:

Today, there would be an update. As much as she wished it weren't so, the only time she saw Deku was when it had to do with Pyromancer or for a brief moment before leaving the police station in the mornings. Any other time, she was missing him.

“I miss you.”

...

“I'm always missing you.” 

That's probably how he wanted it - being Asuka, the one still missing Ai, was too painful.

It couldn't ever be the same again, and Ochako was happy for it, feeling like her life was now so full.

And not a thing was missing.

From Missing Out:

“Miss me?”

“Only a little.”

But even when she was being annoying as hell, I craved her, like I knew I'd miss her. 

Still, after all that time in the cold, her lips seemed like a warm reprieve...if I could have ever gotten there...

I miss her.

I'm always missing her.

^This one’s a double whammy, for obvious reasons.

2. Using chapter titles to run with a theme, too.

This only happens in Missing and Missing Out, but, look:

Chapter titles for Missing are the life of a fire and also follow the level of stress in the fic, as well as Ochako’s feelings: Hot Coals, Rekindling, Reignited, On Fire, Blazing, Inferno, Burn Out, Backdraft

Those words are used in their respective chapters too AND we run through them when Ochako is considering confessing or not in the last chapter.

I pull the same kind of crap in Missing Out, except all the chapter titles are things Ai gave to Asuka. If it’s an object, the object is in the chapter, otherwise, it’s stated in the chapter, too.: A Desperate Lie, Lunch, Skills, Home, No Conditions, Second Chances, Worry, Agony. It’s also in reference to this, because kill me, I guess.

Bonus: Since the story is told from within the theatre of Asuka’s memories, the titles for chapters 7 and 8, “Worry” and “Agony”, are spoiled in Chapter 6 here:

I didn't know I'd missed my last shot at telling her...I didn't know that I really would be missing out on a life with her.

Because everything after this is worry and agony.

BONUS BONUS - THE TITLE OF THE FIC APPEARS HERE TOO BECAUSE I’M OBNOXIOUS.

3. Title allusions and character.

Particularly for “Fire and Brimstone”, the title sounds like it’s just about the main boys, Katsuki = Fire, and Kirishima = Brimstone. BUT BUT BUT it’s also referencing biblical shit, which is appropriate, given it’s an Angel/Demon AU. It refers to God’s wrath when people use it loosely, but it is also the torment in hell for the deadly sin lust. *hint hint nudge nudge*

--

Okay that’s enough about titles. How about the fact that 

Krow is a Crow

So many little crow quirks, lore, and bullshit is put into this character, like wow.

1. The entire concept of his quirk is all about crow lore, in that they are often connected with death in a number of cultures. This is why, although he doesn’t like to explain it, his quirk isn’t literally a sense of smell, but a little more mystical than that. It’s a sense. His quirk also references the Carrion Crow, Corvus corone, for which he’s based, which is a scavenger and is heavily associated with carrion and is native to Japan.

2. The green and purple iridescence of his wings are also referred from the Carrion Crow in particular. 

3. What’s not overly obvious is that crows and ravens have positive lore too - in a number of cultures they are guides and messengers, sometimes to people, sometimes to Gods, which Krow fulfills to both Ochako and Ai (with Ai’s quirk, she could be compared to a goddess, for which he acts as the messenger - this was how she figured their partnership would work). Krow kind of puts this and the negative lore together when he explains his quirk for real in Missing Out:

 As a teenager, I ignored them. Death is everywhere and it usually isn't important. Whatever messages they need sending, I'm not the crow they're looking for.

He also actually has a messenger bag in Missing Out.

4. It’s referenced in Missing and outright admitted in Missing Out that he’s inexplicably attracted to shiny things, which is more or less also crow lore, rather than fact, but still. 

5. Krow’s name “Asuka” is a unisex name that refers to scents, but also birds and flight. There are a bunch of different refs that say differently, but I’m sticking with that. “Dakuro” is Engrish for “Dark”, which, if you really wanna meta, is actually his last name, considering his father is British. “Dakuro” is just how the Japanese people around him pronounce it. XD

6. He admits to collecting random shit he finds aesthetic, in reference to hoarding and collecting as crows do. 

7. Asuka and Ai’s “lunch for quirk fodder” exchange, as well as his giving her the necklace and the box of quirk fodder, is in direct reference to this adorable true story.

8. Asuka speaks more than one language and is capable of mimicry during his “feral response” while fighting the Bear Trap Villain. This is in reference to the fact that crows and ravens are capable of mimicking human speech like parrots.

9. Asuka likes to sit in high places and watch people, and squats in tree for the majority of Missing Out and often bitches about walking anywhere, unless it’s to protect Ai. He has the mentality of a bird. He’s also built like a bird, with hollow bones and air sacs to assist his properly sized wings during flight.

10. He’s actually incredibly intelligent, and uses it to finagle out of tough situations and generally be a trickster, as is crow/raven lore, but crows/ravens are considered the smartest group of birds besides parrots. Unfortunately, this gets balanced out by the fact he’s a teenage human boy, which makes him lazy and capable of dumbass moments. 

11. The murder investigations - there’s a number of instances where Krow can’t help but be drawn to death from his death sense in both Missing and Missing Out. He can’t stop himself from investigating the building Pyro is hiding in, the murder warehouse, and when Ai dies. Crows and ravens will gather around fallen comrades in a mix of mourning and also in an effort to try and figure out what happened and if that threat still pertains to them. 

:3 Birb <3

--

Secret Messages and Tells and Foreshadowing and Symbolism

-In Missed Chance, the duality split of Ochako and Uravity is referenced as happening at a particular moment. Throughout Missing, Uravity is treated as apart from Ochako until the end of Missing where they “agree” on letting Deku help. It’s a duality of self representation.

-At the end of Missing, I’m hoping its clear everyone but Iida was in on leaving the two of them alone. Aoyama initiates it by leaving first.

-There are at least two instances where there’s heavy foreshadowing of the end of chapter 7, once with Aoyama:

“Then where in this overcrowded city?”

“I see. Among the clouds, then.*”

And again with Deku:

“That's a relief. Now, I just need to make sure I don't float myself into the stratosphere and you'll be right!”

-There is SO MUCH symbolism related to flying and birds, I can’t really put it all here, but it’s there. Also so much symbolism to fire in Missing, not only with Pyro’s quirk, but Ochako’s feelings..

-Krow reacts to a memory of Ai before we know she exists (since he’s hiding it) while they are interrogating Necromancer: “That’s not bringing them back. That’s nothing like bringing them back.” He also lets it slip a bit that he’d speaking from experience when ragging on Ochako about Deku. Deku also introduces the idea that people’s quirks can kill them in the same chapter, which is in reference to Ai, but also what ends up happening to Ochako, more or less.

-If you replace Ai’s name with the literal meaning of her name in some sentences of Missing and Missing Out, the UwU angst goes up to an 11. Here’s the one that’s particularly the gut punch:

Ai saved me in every way someone could be saved.

[Love] saved me in every way someone could be saved.

-End of chapter 5 of Missing Out, No Conditions, it should be obvious as hell that if Ai wasn’t in love with Asuka before, she certainly is now. Particularly in the gift box scene, he gives her...butterflies...right? 

-Ai is compared to the winter throughout Missing Out. This is more in reference to what she means to Asuka than anything else. Winter, as a season, is the great equalizer and although things die in the winter, it is also necessary to the bloom in spring. This refers to the shift in Asuka’s life because of her - his villain life ends and his hero life begins. 

-In fact, that whole scene in the snow is based off this gif, particularly the alt comic. It’s of two crows sitting in the snow kissing UwU.

-In both Fire and Brimstone and Missing Out, it should be getting pretty obvious I like to have my winged beasties flutter their wings when they’re in love. 

--

Referencing Literature & Real Life & Pop Culture/Memes

-Pyromancer’s first crime in Alaska is based off the McCarthy, Alaska massacre where a lone gunman gunned down 6 of the 22 residents and injured more. Guy almost killed the entire town. Pyromancer actually did.

-I’ve referred to “The Raven” by Edgar Allen Poe a number of times, particularly in Krow’s famous line

“Nevermore, bitch!”

But I also referenced the Telltale Heart, The Cask of Amontillado, Frankenstein, The Wizard of Oz, and fanfiction in general. 

-There’s a pop culture reference in Fire and Brimstone from Bioshock where Shinso says:

“Would you kindly go repent at the alter? Ashido is waiting.”

And I love it a lot, because in Bioshock SPOILERS, “would you kindly” is the trigger phrase that’s supposedly controlling the player, Jack, to do things for Atlas and in canon, Shinso’s quirk is brainwashing. Mineta upon hearing it just goes “okay” and promptly does what Shinso tells him. Shinso’s brainwashing is also referred to by Mineta just before that:

“Or get brainwashed into believing fairy tales,” Mineta said flatly from beside the Angel.

-There is indeed a motherfucking JoJo’s reference in Missing. And there’s more memes where that came from.

-Krow’s use of “my guy”, “lit” etc etc. is self explanatory. He is a whole ass meme chicken.

-In fact, I call Krow and the other birds of the Missing series “chickens” because of the meme of the girl pointing to a bunch of geese saying “look at all these chickens!” In fact, Irina calls and will call Krow a “cock” in Missing Out and Escape Artists, and it’s kind of a more sinister play on this. Transplant and Keeper, during their convo in Missing Out refer to the women captive under Keeper part of her “henhouse” and that she’d need a “rooster” to go through with her plans. Krow also refers to his fight with Irina as a “cockfight”.

-I’m not religious, but the lore is fun to allude to. The religious references should be clear in Fire & Brimstone, and a lot of the words I use relate to the topic, even casually in the narration, but also when the characters say “like hell!” Also in F&B, the real Angelic hierarchy shapes much of the worldbuilding, as do the references to real life racism, police brutality, and other shit like that.

In Missed Chance, the sun coming through the window puts a “halo” around Deku.

In Missing Out, Krow refers to demons on a number of occasions, sometimes towards himself, his family (which in comes the irony, since they look like Angels), but towards the end, it’s used to explain Ai’s mental illness. There are also these choice lines that entertain the notion of heaven and hell:

  Below us was hell – mothers with agendas, school, dipshits, murderous villains, oh my! But up there? It was just us...

I was under no illusions about a heaven...hell certainly exists back down on the ground but I've been high enough now to rule the other place out. Unless this cold, quiet nothingness is supposed to be the intuitive opposite to the chaotic, unfair bullshit below.

-There’s a lot of references and characters with mental illnesses - psychosis, sociopathy, anxiety, depression and PTSD are all explored. In fact, Krow’s tendency to laugh at everything and get triggered by certain events (all of Missing Out is the result of him triggering himself in order to make Ochako realize her mistake) is a tell-tale sign he suffers greatly from PTSD, and Ai’s mental breakdowns are indicative of the anxiety I myself suffer from. Honestly, I just wanted some fics that look into it. 

-In the same strain, all of the characters in Missing present different coping mechanisms towards what first-responders actively go through irl. Much of that was taken from my own life as someone with police in the family and being married to a firefighter/EMT.  

--

Okay, that’s enough. Hope you enjoyed...I certainly had fun outlining all of it XD

[in-my-thinking]

'80s lads weekend. Part 2. Saturday calling.

This Is the second part of what I aim to be a 3 part composition, covering a Friday, Saturday & Sunday with a group of Yorkshire lads in the ‘80s.

Part 1 is a few posts down on this blog and should be read first .

Contains foul language and some content may offend.

………………………….

More join the crowd as we stand waiting in’t rain Buses are shit dirty and slow but cheaper than train We all pile on pushing past conductor up winding stairs Rowdy lighting woodbines nobody likes us but we don’t care Down to back seat those sat there already move, no questions Stop after stop goes by we get louder, get off at city station Today’s a big game win and we’re certs to go up Best season ever so far as we’re still too in FA cup. Visiting team Millwall known for being nasty on and off the field Fans are really tough bastards fight til the end never yield As we head down a back street we come across worst situation Hoards of cockney scum coming towards us, they’ll fight no hesitation We’re all decked out in team colours, white yellow blue We all look around trying to find escape route From behind there’s shouting and swearing so we all turn around A big crew of Yorkshire lads the rumble’s definitely going down Shit scared now we run trying to give this skirmish the hop Run down a side street quickly into a corner shop Doors quickly bolted and we are inside now watching But before it gets serious horses come in fast galloping Wait a few minutes make sure everything settles Then down to the ground through creaking turnstiles Shouting and singing everyone’s on their feet standing The crowd like the game is pulsing and swaying Getting squashed against railings I now need a leak Why is my bladder so fucking weak No way out to the toilet so what’s to do man Slip him out and it’s soon running into empty beer can All done and tucked back in full can gets launched in the air Some poor bastard won’t be happy but I don’t care Second half of game’s not very good but it’s really second place Soon be final whistle and once more to get shit faced Games over, a win, two more points move up the table Time to get back to home town avoiding trouble if we’re able Luckily we manage to get home without any fraction Saturday night now time for more action Night starts slowly at first just chilling playing pool Loudest we get is arguing about offside rule The crew is now changing as for some their bed calls But others still join us who can’t stand to watch football By 10 o'clock our crowds grown and again we’re all buzzing But dressed as we are no chance of night clubbing Not to worry there’s always somewhere in this crazy town Where no matter your clobber the drinks still go down So across town we walk tho don’t have far to go Soon at the bottom of steps of Bulls Eye Disco Bouncers give us the once over but still let us in Swigging ale all day we’re full so it’s now vodka or gin It’s not long before it kicks off was bound to happen I grab some birds arse and my face she now slapping Bouncer piles in then thinks I called him a cock Now I’m doubled over trapped in a head lock I can feel myself bouncing thinking fuck this hurts Then I’m out on the pavement covered in blood & dirt Blue lights blazing I’m on my way to A and E Suspected broken collar bone and badly cut knees Arrive at emergency unit confused and on my jack jones Waiting for X-ray to confirm my broken bones Few minutes later feel nudge in the back Two mates followed ambulance by hailing a cab Waiting room packed full no seats but they don’t care A few minutes later racing hospital corridors in wheelchairs Finally doctor says results come through Badly bruised clavicle but not much he can do Just strap and stitch me tight give me some pills Got a feeling tomorrow I’m gonna be seriously ill Back of taxi head hanging of window gasping fresh air On way to my mates house gonna have crash there Can’t risk going home looking and feeling like this Fat bastard will just add more with big heavy fists Though I ache all over from what can’t be called a fight As my head hits the sofa cushions I’m out like a light ……………….

[ryderdolittle-blog]

A Turtle, a Hare, and a Lioness

Who: Mason McCarthy and Ryder Lynn, with Margaret McCarthy

Where: The McCarthy Compound

When: Morning in the Pacific timezone

Why: Mason takes Ryder out to his family’s Compound to receive an apology from Margaret McCarthy on behalf of her husband. Mason gets a surprise from his mother, while Ryder mainly tries to act normal and not nervous.

Mason had rolled out of bed at seven A.M, his time, just to try and get finish getting ready for Ryder's arrival. With everything else - new year's, Sebastian's visit to the Compound, preparation for the McCarthy Yule Ball - he'd hardly had time to overanalyze. After a quick breakfast and a quick double-check of the satellite house his mother has insisted on him preparing for Ryder 'just in case', it was nearly time. He knelt down to Sabia as he approached the family portal, scratching behind her ears. "Now, Ryder understands you, Sabia Ríoghnach McCarthy." She flicked an ear and yawned. "So please be nice. Today will be hard enough without having to explain that my familiar is still holding a grudge." Mason rested his head against hers for a moment, let her nose at his cheek, and then stood, smoothed his shirt and his jeans, and stepped through the portal back to school. He glanced at his watch - he was right on time, for once in his life...

Ryder As soon as Ryder woke up, he went back to listening to articles about the McCarthy parents. His nerves were evident, especially to his empath roommate. After changing into a button up shirt and a nice pair of pants, Ryder grabbed his coat and headed out to meet Mason at the portals. “Don’t be nervous. This’ll be fine. Mason will be there. They might even be nice and not totally intimidating like every picture makes them look,” Ryder muttered to himself along the way. When he reached the portals, he saw Mason waiting and waved his hand. “Hey,” he greeted. “Sorry I’m a little late, I couldn’t decide if I needed to wear a tie or not,” he admitted, fixing his hair with his hand.

Mason smiled, shaking his head. "Nah, man, you look fine. Great, even. No tie necessary. My mom's not a big fan of unnecessary formality," he explained. He took a breath, battled down the urge to try and get Ryder to just forget the whole thing, and plastered a smile to his face. "It's gonna be fine." He was trying to convince himself as much as he was Ryder. There was no use lollygagging, though, it would just make them more nervous, so he turned and reactivated the portal. He stepped through and rejoined Sabia, a stern behave sent her way as Ryder followed him. "Welcome to The Compound."

Ryder took in Mason’s body language, noting the fake smile and the way he lied with his reassurance. “Right, it’ll be fine,” he repeated. He stepped through the portal after Mason, inhaling the forest air with a deep breath. “Woah,” he breathed out as he took it all in. It was like its own mini campus. Ryder looked to Sabia and cocked his head curiously like a canine would. “Hello,” he said, rolling his shoulders back to stand up straight.

Mason Sabia flicked her ear - she has never spoken to a witch other than her own. She wasn't sure how she felt about it, but her pup had told her to be nice. 'Hello.' she answered evenly, a soft little growl of a noise. She stood up and approached him, sniffing him cautiously. He smelled like many other animals, which confused her, but he smelled nervous, too, so she decided to simply circle him once and return to Mason's side. "This is Sabia," Mason said, absently scratching behind her ear. "C'mon. We can take the long way." Mason smiled, a realer smile now that he was home. It was happening, and there was nothing he could do to stop it, so he might as well enjoy it. "If you have stuff," Mason said as they began walking on a wooded path. "We can drop it off on the way," Mason said, nodding to one of the tiny satellite houses tucked into the woods. "Yours is up a ways," he said, "and you don't have to use it at all if you don't want to." Mason tucked his hands in his pockets and tried to calm his erratic heartbeat - Ryder Lynn was here, at the Compound, and his brain couldn't quite comprehend it, even with him standing right next to him. "The portal's the most direct way in and out," Mason said, "'cause we have wardwalls at our property line. That's how we had to bring Quinn in."

Ryder “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sabia,” he said before focusing back on Mason. “The long way sounds good to me,” he chuckled. He moved so that he could walk side by side with Mason. As he listened closely, he could hear the birds calling to each other and singing. “I’ve just brought myself,” he shrugged, hoping that was fine. Shit, maybe he should’ve brought a gift or something. But no, he was here for an apology. “Quinn was here too?” he asked, surprised.

Mason "Yeah," Mason said, smile turning a little softer. "Three whole days. Can you believe that?" He could tell so few people about his relationship with Quinn - he couldn't help it. "It was kinda the best Yulemas gift ever, honestly." He shook his head, refocusing, though his smile was still in place. "The house might be kinda chaotic. More chaotic than usual," Mason warned, "'Cause we're getting ready for this end of Yule party we have? So don't be freaked if it's kinda loud, but once you're--we're--in with Margaret that won't hardly matter." Mason shrugged one shoulder. He came to a stop at the crest of a hill - he could see the main house from here, but it was still quiet enough that he could pretend they were in the middle of nowhere. He looked from the house to Ryder; he hesitated for only a moment before he nudged Ryder's arm with his. "It really is gonna be fine, Ry. I promise."

Ryder “That’s great, Mase. I’m glad you were able to bring her out here,” he said. When he looked around, it was hard to imagine Quinn here but he had a feeling that she had loved the trip. “I can handle a little chaos,” he nodded. As they reached the crest, Ryder looked out over the expanse of the compound before them. He wasn’t in New York anymore, that was for damn sure. In the back of his mind, he wished that Marley was able to see this. She would love it. At Mason’s nudge, Ryder brought his thoughts down from the cloud and looked to his friend. “I know,” he said. “You’ll be there to kick me if I say anything stupid,” he chuckled. “Or maybe Sabia would be so kind as to lend a helping hand.”

Mason "Hear that, Sabi? He thinks you're kind." Sabia chuffed at him. 'I do not have hands,' she pointed out to the both of them with a light huff. Mason laughed. "I'm not gonna kick you, but I'll try to...guide the conversation when I can." He started walking again, smiling to himself when Sabia darted out in front of them, chasing a chipmunk off the path. "Anything you for sure want to say? Or not say?"

Ryder “A helping paw then,” Ryder amended. “I haven’t really planned anything out,” he admitted. “All I know is that I’m going to accept the apology and thank them for inviting me out here. Is there anything that I for sure should not say?”

Mason shrugged one shoulder. "I guess the stuff you normally wouldn't say," Mason said, half-teasing and half-serious. He really hoped he didn't need to give Ryder a crash course in how to talk to adults. "Um, don't bring up the Puckerman clan, probably. You don't wanna get into Guild politics with her." Mason chuckled, then paused and looked back at him. "Unless you do. In which case...well, still avoid the Puckermans, but don't be afraid to ask questions, I guess? Don't get mad if she doesn't answer them, or doesn't answer them directly. My parents--they're big fans of the 'figure it out yourself' approach to just about everything." Mason smiled wryly; they were passing the training ring, the smith, the crafting center. In the distance, to the north, Mason could hear the horses whinnying - he almost asked what they were saying, but decided against the distraction, for the moment. The main building was closer now - Mason could see family members hanging extra lights from the tall trees that surrounded it, laughing and joking and cursing when they tripped or miscast something. "Don't let them pull you in," Mason advised lowly, a mischievous smile on his face. He moved his arm around Ryder's shoulders, a signal to the family to leave them alone, and continued, "Or else next thing you know you'll be placing bets on Kelley and Kyle's mud wrestling."

Ryder nodded as he walked alongside Mason. He really didn’t want to get into politics with her, but it seemed inevitable. Did Margaret know about Lynn’s Emporium? It seemed likely. His head popped up when he heard horses calling to each other, making him smile. When they reached other people, Ryder sent a friendly wave. “I’ll keep that in mind. I can only stay until about 2 your time,” he warned. “Then I’ve got to get back to campus."

Mason smiled as the hoarde of McCarthys waved back, though the blush colored his cheeks as they began heckling him - at least until Hal tried to whistle and dropped the log he was carrying on Ethan's foot. He shook his head, though a fond smile was on his face. "I'll let her know. I wouldn't--I can't imagine it taking that long," Mason added, opening the door to let Ryder in. He led him through the back hall - they had to pass the Great Hall to get to Margaret's office on the second floor, but Mason knew that the instant someone saw them inside, they'd either be tasked to do something or interrogated within an inch of their lives. The house itself was tall and warm, with a combination of flame and electric lights along the walls - for when the technology went wonky, they said, but Mason figured it was probably more for the aesthetic than anything. Along the wall behind the great staircase were portraits of McCarthys past - matriarchs all. Sometimes with their husbands. There was a place ready for Madison, but Mason didn't see himself on that wall - no place for the extra twin. The house was covered with bright Yule decorations, about half illusioned by Margaret herself, and the rest painstakingly hung by the family. Mason's fingers brushed along a trail of evergreen that someone had wound around the banisters, trying to calm his nerves. They were close now. Please, please, let this go well. "Mine and Madi's rooms are up further," Mason explained, mostly to fill the silence he'd accidentally let drag on. "The library's downstairs, past the hall and the kitchens." Ryder didn't need to know any of this, he realized dimly as they approached the closed office door. Shut up, Mason. "Y'don't have to call her Director," Mason added, glancing at the door. "Mrs. McCarthy should be fine. Ready?"

Ryder didn’t bother to hold back his awe once they entered the house. (Could it even be called a house?) But he remembered to close his mouth after a minute of gaping like a fish. Giant portraits showed all the strong women of the past who had lead the family and the Guild. Suddenly, Ryder felt foolish in his Walmart button down and pants. Still, he held his shoulders back and stood tall so that his body language would only read as confident. While humans didn’t always notice it, they talked through body language just as much as animals did. “I can’t even imagine growing up in a place like this,” he admitted. “I mean I literally grew up in a hut.” Something Mason didn’t need to know but Ryder had said it anyways. When they reached the door, Ryder quickly brushed his hands off on his legs before nodding. “Ready.”

Mason smiled a little wryly. "Yeah, well, sometimes I think I woulda traded anything for a hut." Mason ducked his head and didn't let the conversation continue - if it was a conversation Ryder wanted to have, they could have it somewhere other than in front of his mother's study. He raised his hand to knock just as her voice called -- Come in and Mason bit back a curse. Every single time. He opened the door and smiled a little hesitantly, letting Ryder fall in line with him. He automatically fell into the at-rest position, hands folded at the base of his spine, automatically stood a little straighter, a little taller. "This is Ryder Lynn," Mason introduced, without gesturing or moving much at all. "Ryder, this is Margaret Willow McCarthy." Mason swallowed and willed himself not to bend beneath the look his mother was giving him - he never knew what it meant, never knew how her mind was working.

Margaret studied her son for a long moment - his poker face was terrible - and then moved her gaze to the other boy in front of her. This was not a meeting with the Fabray girl; by all accounts, it was a meeting beneath her pay grade, and she was sure that most Bloodlines would have brushed it off, if indeed they'd cared at all. But this was different; it was personal. "So we finally meet, Mr. Lynn," Margaret said, standing easily. She didn't offer to shake his hand - instead, she moved over to her drink cabinet, looking over her shoulder at him. "Would you care for tea? Or perhaps something stronger? Whiskey helps the nerves."

Mason kept his mouth shut only through force of will; he had never been offered whiskey for his nerves...

Ryder saw the change in Mason as soon as it happened. His entire demeanor changed, making Ryder’s brow furrow. But he did what he could to fix his expression before walking in. “Thank you for inviting me out here, Mrs. McCarthy,” he said with a nod of his head. When he looked at her, all he could think was that she looked exactly like so many of the photos that high-profile magic magazines had published of her. When she offered him tea, Ryder smiled politely. “Tea would be fine, thanks,” he answered. “And sugar if you have any.” He knew from various cultures how rude it would’ve been to decline a show of hospitality. Hell, even animals knew that.

Margaret nodded and fixed it quickly, handing him the cup and saucer before gesturing for him to take a seat; she fixed herself a cup and briefly considered simply leaning against her desk - about as casual as she was willing to get in front of her son - but she decided that was probably too close for comfort for the poor boy, who looked like he'd been shoved onto stage without a script. Margaret took her place behind the desk, expression changing as her eyes flicked to Mason for the briefest moment. He kept his eyes fixed somewhere above her head, and he'd scarcely moved since introducing them. Good. She didn't want him in the room, but the boy did; how Mason could ever be something like a comfort was beyond her. "So." Margaret began, looking back at Ryder after a moment. "I don't know what my son told you, nor how he convinced you to join me today, but please know I do appreciate this, Mr. Lynn. I hope it doesn't cut into your winter holiday plans too terribly." Margaret stirred her tea, carefully considering her words. There were benefits to making it quick, to getting it over with, but...well, perhaps there was more to be gained than simply clearing her familial conscious. "Although I can't understand why you would develop feelings for my son," Margaret began, "the fact of the matter is that you did, at least until we made your feelings our business." Margaret sighed. "You must understand, Mr. Lynn, when it comes to my children, I believe that the best way for them to learn is to make their own mistakes. If they wished to touch the stove, I did not stop them - they would touch it anyway." Margaret's eyes flicked to Mason again. "As evidenced by my son's later indiscretion with the Fae--"

Mason "Marley," Mason finally ground out, reflexively, voice as hard as nails. "Her name is Marley Rose."

Margaret The look Margaret gave him could have cut diamonds. "As I was saying. We never should have influenced your relationship with my son. It should have been his decision to stand by, or not." Mason shifted slightly. Tense. Margaret rolled her eyes. "Oh for the love of the Aether, Mason Larch, relax, would you?"

Mason let out a breath and did relax, just slightly. "Yes, Mother. I apologize."

Margaret refocused on Ryder. "The fact of the matter is, Mr. Lynn, we apologize, for whatever...hurt feelings, for lack of a better term, our influence may have caused."

Ryder “Thanks,” he said, taking the cup and moving to take one of the offered seats. He really hoped that was fake leather beneath his butt. He doubted it though. Taking all the lessons he had learned from Grunkle John about how to deal with people, he did his best to appear at ease. He just raised the glass to his lips and mimicked taking a drink before putting it back down on the saucer. Ryder sat forward to place it on her desk then just as she began to speak. “Well, I gave up half of my last real day of break, but it was worth it to be out here in Oregon. And to see Mason,” he added, looking over his shoulder and wishing Mason would come sit with him instead of looking so uncomfortable. Ryder turned his attention back to Margaret. “Marley Rose,” he corrected at just about the same time as Mason. If she was going to talk about her, then Margaret was going to use her name. With the end of her apology, Ryder sat forward. “Thank you for your apology, Mrs. McCarthy,” he said seriously. “And for making the time to see me. But it was my understanding that your husband was the one who.. ‘influenced’ Mason against going on a date with me, not you. So I’m sorry, but I’m confused why you’re the one speaking to me.”

Margaret quirked her brow slightly - so he knew the Fae as well. Interesting. The name was scribbled in a book somewhere; she made a mental note to revisit the information she had. There had to be more to this girl. "I am speaking to you, Mr. Lynn, because my husband does not speak for this family. I do. Eventually, my daughter will, and her daughters, and so on, until we are all but dust returned to this earth beneath us. My husband, while a fine Slayer, and a fine father," was that a snort from Mason, or just a slightly louder breath? "is not a McCarthy, save for in name. He is unfamiliar with how we raise our children." Margaret paused for the briefest of moments. "And anyway. As a bisexual woman myself, the matter felt altogether more important than a meeting with my husband to discuss his failings, no?"

Mason gaped at his mother. Absolutely gaped. "As--what?"

Margaret quirked an eyebrow, a sly smile on her face as she leaned back in her seat. She crossed her fingers over her stomach. "I believe you were listening, Mason Larch."

Mason "I, no, I was, but--" Mason looked at Ryder, like he could somehow explain what was going on. "You--why didn't--"

Margaret shrugged languidly. "You never asked." She said simply. "Did you not think it strange I raised no questions when you called me about this one?" Margaret nodded to Ryder, still bemused. "Truly, I had hoped you would have figured it out by now. Perhaps that was a misplaced hope." As it so often was when it came to her son. "Please, excuse my son, Mr. Lynn. I'm sure, by now, you know...how he can be."

Mason was too surprised to even be insulted.

Margaret "Furthermore, I wanted to inform you--however moot the point may be by now--should you wish to..." Margaret gestured vaguely. "Have a relationship, with either of my children, we will not stop you. At least, not immediately." She added, with a wry chuckle. "You are all so young. The fun that can be had in one's youth can be the very thing that gives one strength in the later years, and while I'm...sure that my son has learned something from this...ordeal," Margaret said with a shake of her head. "I am not so sure that he couldn't have learned something from the opposite result as well." Margaret shrugged one shoulder and looked back at Ryder. "Tell me about yourself, Mr. Lynn. It is not common I have an unknown quantity sitting on the other side of this desk. My son managed to stutter out that you are an animal witch, no?"

Ryder “That’s something I’m familiar with,” Ryder said, actually smiling. “There were a few tribes led by matriarchs in Kenya. And they seemed to live in greater peace than the others.” When she spoke of her husband, Ryder came to think that their marriage had been arranged. “I suppose so,” he nodded, picking up his tea and actually taking a drink now that he’d seen her do the same. Please don’t be poisoned, he thought. From Mason’s reaction, it became clear that he hadn’t known about his mother’s sexuality. Huh. He turned back to Margaret and his jaw clenched at her insult to her son. No wonder Mason hadn’t wanted Ryder to meet them. He wasn’t getting any warm and fuzzy vibes from this woman. And then she was offering him permission to date her children?? WHAT EVEN WAS THIS?! He cleared his throat and set down his tea again. “Thank you, I guess, but I’m already dating someone,” he said, sitting back once more. “I am an animal witch. You already know I’m a New Age. Like Mason, this is my first year at NYADA. The first time that I’ve been in school for witchcraft. But it’s been a productive time so far. My friend, Elliott Gilbert, and me started a club for L. Naturae rights that Mason and Madison are part of. It’s called the LN Witch Alliance.”

Margaret nodded matter of factly as Ryder spoke - of course the tribeswomen were more capable leaders than the men. "It's no matter to me," Margaret said, waving off his thanks. Who Madison chose to spend her time with was a great deal more of her concern than where Mason was concerned, but even so - it wasn't as though this boy was seeking either of her children's hand or something equally absurd. Relieved to be off the subject of romance, Margaret nodded and took another sip of her tea, studying him. "I have heard of Elliott Gilbert." Had she. "Save me the soundbite, Mr. Lynn; what do you see this club accomplishing? Truly. Do you seek a position on the L. Naturae Protection Committee?" Margaret paused for a moment, tilting her head at him just slightly. "Or do you see yourself taking over the family business?"

Mason tensed slightly. Family business? What? Even if he wanted to stop whatever game his mother was about to play, he couldn't - his mind was still reeling, and he was a thousand miles away. "Ryder wants to be a Cryptozoologist, Mother," Mason offered, voice soft and hesitant.

Margaret "I don't recall asking you, Mason Larch. Mr. Lynn, I've gathered, is entirely capable of speech. Consider this your last warning before I remove you from my sight."

Mason "Yes, Mother." Mason's fingers curled on themselves behind his back, jaw clenched. Why, why, why did he have to open his mouth? Get a grip, McCarthy...

Ryder couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips, another thing he’d gotten from Quinn, when Margaret moved right over the LNWA. “I’m afraid I’ll have to cut our meeting short if Mason is no longer in the room with us,” he said. “But as for your question, I’ve got a few plans for my future. I like to keep my options open. For the club, I want to help increase the amount of freedoms the LN students have at NYADA. I’m only thinking about the school at the moment,” he explained. “And as for the family business, you must be aware that I’m the only… ‘heir’ who could take over. But my great uncle is in great health and his mind is sharp as one of your whetstones.” He looked over his shoulder at Mason, then back to her. “Mason’s right though. I have a passion for Cryptozoology thanks to experiences I’ve had at NYADA. I spent time with the chimera in the forest. And now in their new settlement,” he said. “Were you the one in charge of killing some of them?” he asked plainly.

Mason thought, for just a moment, that he read surprise on his mother's face - but it was gone a moment later. "Mr. Lynn, I should hope that after a semester at as prestigious a school as the New York Academy of Divine Arcanum, one does not have to leave the room to <<vanish from my sight>>."

Margaret As she spoke, a sigil emblazoned itself on the floor beneath Mason's feet, glowing with the bright color of Margaret's sigil. Mason let out a startled squeak - he was gone. Invisible. "Mother!" he exclaimed - he could still make noise, that he could see, so he closed his eyes; looking through himself was too bizarre, and he needed to focus. "<<I banish this illusion.>>" he said, imagining himself real and solid and visible, heard. It wasn't so hard - after all, being seen was all he'd ever wanted. When he opened his eyes, his body was exactly where it should be. Margaret seemed unperturbed; maybe even bemused. He took a few steps forward, resting his hands on the empty seat next to Ryder. He couldn't sit down, she hadn't invited him to - hadn't given him any indication that he could enter the conversation. Had in fact made it very clear that the opposite was expected. But he'd promised Ryder he'd help when he could. His hands tightened on the chair, and he didn't look away from his mother's gaze.

Mason "What Ryder meant to ask, Mother," Mason said slowly, "is for clarification on the Guild's definition of 'monster'," he said carefully. "Especially given that--that chimera don't come from the--"

Margaret "You do not need to educate me on chimera, Mason," Margaret interrupted, though without the level of venom her voice had previously held. She returned her gaze to Ryder, eyes glinting. "For the moment, I will look past your..." Margaret considered, a slight smile on her face. "bluntness. What freedoms would you grant the L. Naturae, Mr. Lynn? What protections for them and Witchkind would you have in place? NYADA has already become a great deal more...progressive, than it was in my day. It is out on a limb, and if it steps wrong, it may break. Are you aware that your club may be adding to the weight of an already fragile bough?"

Ryder clenched his jaw as he looked to Mason and then saw only invisibility. There were so many things he wanted to say at that moment, but knew it wouldn’t help at all. He had poked at a nerve. Turning back to her, Ryder crossed his legs and rested his left ankle on top of his right knee. “Should I do my own invisibility spell?” he smiled. “Or are we going to move on?” He inwardly relaxed when Mason moved closer and spoke, making himself heard once more. His smile grew at her avoiding his question, apparently that was another nerve. Then he fixed his expression once more. “You don’t need to tell me that as if I don’t know,” Ryder said, sitting forward. “Both me and Elliott were attacked on campus, and it would be stupid of us not to see the connection to the LNWA. But we both are going to move forward with it. And the first thing that we want to see is the freedom for L. Naturae to choose the classes they take and not be closed off to only the Naturalization program. Mason came up with the idea.”

Mason 'Mason came up with the idea.' It echoed dully - credit wasn't something he'd been wired to even think about, least of all to his mother. He swallowed back his surprise and nodded. "They're not talking about eliminating the Naturalization Program," Mason added, "just...expanding it. So that it's actually effective, instead of something to make Witches feel better about themselves. A Shedim learning how to do taxes doesn't have anything to do with helping them be a naturalized, effective member of society. It makes them angry, Mother."

Margaret studied the boys thoughtfully; it was perhaps the most she'd heard her son say about much of anything; furthermore, the suggestion that Mason not only supported but originated that sort of expansion was...both surprising and slightly concerning. She hadn't ever known him to have his own ideas about much of anything. "I was not simply speaking of the potential harm to your person, or that of Mr. Gilbert's person," Margaret explained, absolutely ignoring Mason's explanation - she wasn't the one they needed to convince in the slightest, but she supposed it was somewhat beneficial to have a lead on what may or may not shape their future. "I was referring to the harm to NYADA's person. But that is neither here nor there, I suppose - if you think you know what you are doing, far be it from me to stop you." There was a wry smile on her face as she leaned forward in her seat. "Has there been any progress made on your assault, Mr. Lynn? My son told me he was helping you, but was...purposefully vague about the details."

Ryder “I promise to keep that in mind as we move forward with the club, Mrs. McCarthy,” he said with a nod to her. Ryder relaxed a little and moved a hand through his hair. “On one of the attackers, yes. But not on the students that helped him. Then again, I’ve got the impression that they were working under the student who attacked me, Josh Coleman.” He briefly wondered if there was any danger in her knowing the name, but figured there wasn’t. “Thanks for your concern, by the way.”

Margaret "Quite." Margaret affixed him with a sharp gaze. Why children were handling this she was unsure, but the Director of the Slayer's Guild couldn't meddle in NYADA's affairs. Probably. "I'm sure the Security Office is working to find those who attacked you and hold them responsible for their reprehensible actions, Mr. Lynn." She was not at all sure of that; if this was tied to the LNWA, it was bigger than it appeared. "Do pass my greetings on to your great-uncle, will you? While, officially, I have never heard of Lynn's Emporium and Oddities..." Margaret trailed off with a faint smile. "Unofficially, it has provided several of my Slayers with unexpectedly valuable advantages in the past. Perhaps you will turn out similarly." Margaret shrugged. Perhaps, more likely, he would not - but she allowed the hesitant smile to remain on Mason's face all the same. "I must say, Mr. Lynn, I'm not sure what I expected to come from this introduction of ours, but...you may return to NYADA knowing that you've certainly...made an impression." Margaret stood and Mason straightened back up, folding his arms behind his back. "My son has prepared one of our satellite houses for you, Mr. Lynn, if you wish to stay at The Compound this evening. Good afternoon, Mr. Lynn."

Mason "Thank you, Mother," Mason said, vaguely amazed. Lynn's Emporium and Oddities? Just another thing on the long list of sentences that didn't make any sense, that made his head feel like it was going to explode. His mother wasn't straight. Ryder had told his mother Coleman's name. His mother gave him and Ryder permission to date--but Ryder was already seeing someone. Ryder was already seeing someone. Was that true or was he just saying that as a handy excuse to get Margaret to stop meddling? Mason moved back to the door and stood by it, waiting for Ryder to lead the way out.

Ryder shook his head and let out a quiet chuckle at that. “I doubt that, but we can hope they’ll get better at doing their jobs,” he said. He nodded at her request. “I’ll be sure to let him know. He’s got a fondness for loyal customers.” Not that Ryder had known about this but the discovery didn’t surprise him. Once she stood, Ryder did the same and didn’t bother to offer his hand. “I won’t be able to stay, but thank you for the invitation. I hope you and your family enjoy your Yule,” he said, “Good afternoon, Mrs. McCarthy.” With a smile, he stepped around his chair and turned to walk out of the room ahead of Mason. He didn’t stop walking until he was halfway down the stairs, waiting for Mason to catch up to him. “Dude, I almost pissed myself,” he whispered as soon as Mason was close enough.

Mason lingered in the room for a moment after Ryder left, half awaiting instruction or scolding; Margaret was already returning to her papers in front of her, like she'd forgotten he was there. When she looked up at him, her gaze was hard, though her voice was detached. "Well? Go." Mason nodded quickly and jogged to catch up to Ryder. He shoved his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking, but as Ryder spoke he couldn't help the half-strangled laugh. "You and me both, Ry," he promised weakly, shoving open the back door. He took a deep breath of the fresh air and instantly made a bee-line for Sabia, who was sitting beneath one of the huge pine trees, waiting. He knelt and hugged her to his chest, explaining to her in flashes what had happened. His voice was muffled by her fur when he spoke. "I'm sorry I couldn't--help more. I thought you did amazing."

Ryder moved to stay near Mason, walking out and back into the forest that surrounded the house. While he was trying to think of what to say, he watched Mason go right to his familiar. Ryder hung back and buttoned his coat back up around him. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry for how she treats you,” he said honestly. “I mean - shit, Mase, that was just so rude of her. No offense."

Mason shrugged one shoulder, even as Sabia woofed her emphatic agreement. "Yeah," he said noncommittally, a slight frown on his face. He knew, he did, that his family wasn't like other people's. Rude wasn't how he'd describe it, but it seemed as good a word as any. "It's okay, though," he said, a little more resolutely, looking back at Ryder now. "It's not like how she treats me was--was the point of that." He rests his head against Sabia's for another moment, then stands again, shaking his head. "I don't...I don't even know where to start." Mason swallowed. It felt like his brain was on overload. "Do you still wanna wander in the forest or d'you just wanna get outta here? I wouldn't blame you," he added quickly. Sabia whined lowly, leaning heavily against him. "But--but things tend to make more sense when...when there's some distance."

Ryder While he wanted to protest that it definitely wasn’t okay, it was clear that that wasn’t what Mason wanted to talk about. He checked his watch and made sure he still had time to spare. “Just take me to see some animals,” he said, sending a friendly smile to Sabia.

Mason "Okay," Mason smiled a little, glad for the company; he started walking down a path in the woods. "The horses are this way, 'n' I figure some of the others will find us on the way." He stayed quiet for a little while, mind going back over the conversation. "You did really well, Ry." He finally said, voice still soft. "I'm--I was impressed. I think she was too. I could barely tell at all you wanted to pee your pants." Mason smiled a little.

Ryder followed along beside Mason with his hands in his pockets. His thoughts were back on the conversation he’d just had and all the questions that had come from it. It still confused him why she had asked certain things. But now it made sense why Grunkle John had been okay with him going. “Really? That’s a relief,” he said with a laugh.

Mason chuckled and nodded. Relief was one of the many things he was feeling. "I can't believe....Well, I can't believe a lot of things that just happened." Mason ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath. After a moment of hesitation, Mason decided any attempt to be subtle was just not going to work. "Are you really seeing someone or was that just to make her drop it?" He kept himself from asking if it was a certain fae they had in common; if it was, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Ryder “I’m just happy I got through it without making her hate me. Or maybe I did and didn’t notice,” he said, brow furrowing as he thought about that. He looked over at Mason’s question. “Yeah, I am. I’ve got a date with him tonight.”

Mason "Oh," Mason said, nodding. "Cool. Congrats, dude. Have fun." He didn't say who it was and Mason decided to respect that; turtles and rabbits and the pack of sparrows flying over their heads, twittering to each other. Whoever he was it wasn't Marley, and after this weekend, that was relieving if only because it was one less thing for him to worry about dealing with. Any reason it might be relieving beyond that was...not the point. "As for her hating you or not..." Mason shrugged one shoulder. "Try not to worry about it too much, either way. If nothing else, she's got her...y'know, her hands-off policy. And better things to worry about. It's not like you have to worry about the Director targeting you personally for vengeance over a tense meeting that was about an apology anyway." Mason shrugged. "Or if you do, you know you have me and Mads on your side about it." They finally approached the paddock and Mason leaned against the fence - it was a ginormous, grassy enclosure, and Mason could see a few of the other horses grazing in the distance. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled long and high and sure enough, a few moments later, a black stallion came trotting over the hill toward them. "His name's Dubhán," Mason said, a smile on his face. "It means black in Celtic. I was not the most imaginative kid." Mason chuckled and brushed a hand down Dubhán's neck. "I might not know how to drive a car without crashing or getting all the way off the road, but at least I can ride a horse."

Ryder “Thanks, Mase,” he said, deciding to leave off who it was. Besides, he knew that Mason only wanted to know that it wasn’t Marley. “I don’t really care if she does hate me or not. I just figure it would’ve been a lot tenser in that room if she had.” And he didn’t like it when people hated him while barely knowing him. When they reached the horses, Ryder rested his hands on the fence. He’d always liked horses, how intuitive they were. He held his hand out and let Dubhán get used to his scent. “Hello,” he greeted in horse, moving his head. After a short conversation that was mainly done through small movements and huffs of breath, Ryder turned back to Mason. “He’s a great horse,” he complimented with a smile. “And a happy one."

Mason rested his head on his hand as Ryder talked--was that the right word?--with his horse. Man, that was so cool. "Well, good. If I could bring him to school with me I would, but Spence had enough trouble handling Sabia. I don't think he'd be too wild about a horse bunking up." Mason laughed and shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "Thanks," Mason said after letting out a breath. "I mean. For, like." Mason brushed his fingers along the woodgrain of the fence, cleared his throat, and tried again. "I don't know if my mother cares about whether or not I'm in the LNWA or whether or not I have ideas that make sense to other people or...if she has other more important things to worry about," Mason said, still mostly addressing the fence. "But. It was nice. It was nice of you to--say that stuff. About me, to her." Mason glanced up at him and offered a little smile. "So. Thanks."

Ryder climbed up onto the first wrung of the fence and reached his hand out to stroke along Dubhán’s neck. When he looked out at the other horses, he felt at peace again despite the stress of the conversation. Once Mason explained what he meant, Ryder smiled back at him. “You’re welcome,” he said. He stepped back down and dusted off his hands. “I’m actually glad I came out here. I wasn’t sure if I would be, but it was worth the trip,” he nodded. “And hey, maybe it won’t be my last time out here. Who knows?”

Mason couldn't help but smile as he spoke - he had no idea what was waiting for him back at the main house, how his mother was actually feeling, but he had to admire Ryder's optimism. "I'm glad you came too." Mason's smile grew, finding himself nodded. "Yeah, maybe," he agreed. "And maybe then you won't be rushing off for a daaate," he teased, stepping back from the fence. "C'mon. Whoever's lucky enough to date you'll be pissed if I hold you captive out there. The time difference doesn't include post-Margaret decompression time, and trust me, once you're back on campus, you'll need it." Mason chuckled and tucked his hands in his pockets. "Let's get you home."

[amtushinfosolutionspage]

Jimmy Butler Has Something To Say

Jimmy Butler’s cell phone is shaking. We’re plopped down in the last row of his home theatre on a couch that feels like a velvet sponge, a blanket covers his outstretched legs.

Butler leans over, looks down, smiles. He picks the phone up, shakes his head, then turns it around to reveal who’s on the other end. Coach Thibs. “See?” Butler says. “It’s crazy, right? He’s always on my phone.”

Everything about Butler’s place in this exact moment and time can and should be described as “crazy.” From the majestic hillside villa tucked away in Malibu—a remote paradise where the 27-year-old lives with a tight crew of friends, family, and paid aides (a photographer is sleeping in the guest house)—to the sudden reunion with Tom Thibodeau, the tireless coach who helped turn Butler into one of the least probable success stories in NBA history, to the Chicago Bulls needlessly trading Butler earlier this summer…the list can go on forever.

Butler’s origin story is absurd. Small town Texas kids with no scholarship offers out of high school don’t become NBA role players, much less superstars. They aren’t oddball country music-loving characters who pal around with famous actors. And they certainly don’t accomplish all they have while going out of their way to stand tall as a positive figure off the court. Butler won the NBA Cares Community Assist Award last April, and says he aspires to use his broadening platform to navigate the contentious social issues that plague the country. But his rags to riches past and lavish present are not as moving as what promises to lie ahead.

Butler was voted onto his first All-NBA team last season, with scoring, assist, and rebound averages usually associated with someone headed to the Hall of Fame. (Butler tallied more Win Shares last year than Larry Bird when he won his first MVP). But there’s still room for improvement, and next season Butler will be surrounded by players with enough talent to relieve some of the pressure he’s felt in years past.

It’s been an intense, course-altering summer for Butler, whose reward for establishing himself as one of the world’s 15 best basketball players was the trade, three months ago, from Chicago to the Minnesota Timberwolves, a franchise that’s perpetually struggling to stand on its own two feet. But Butler—alongside Karl-Anthony Towns and Andrew Wiggins, two Rookie of the Year winners who can fill an ocean with their talent and upside—is poised to change all that.

Coach Thibs is always calling Butler—and always calling his number. Photo: Russ Isabella-USA TODAY Sports

Already one of, if not the, most physically fit individuals in a league overcrowded by the most athletic specimens on earth, Butler dedicated his summer to figuring out a way to get into even more ridiculous shape—the better to handle one of the NBA’s toughest workloads. (According to NBA.com, he ran more miles per game than all but two other players during 2016-17, and led the entire league in each of the previous two seasons.)

“The man, simply, is addicted to working,” says Butler’s personal skills trainer Chris Johnson.

His weekly schedule consists of approximately nine hundred thousand hours of on-court basketball drills, spliced with a grueling workout plan that made my eyes water when I first heard it. Without an alarm, Butler is out of bed by 5:45 AM and on the court by 6:00.

“He’s a serial killer’s dream. He does the same shit every fucking day.”

Meals hardly deviate. It’s scrambled egg whites, turkey bacon, turkey sausage, and a protein shake for breakfast. Lunch is Chipotle, with plain white rice, double chicken, light lettuce, and half a cup of vinaigrette (no cilantro). At night, his chef will prepare a dish around fish or chicken. He hasn’t had red meat in years and steers clear of alcohol.

When Butler isn’t drenched in sweat, most of his free time is either spent in his theatre watching the same movies over and over (Friday is a favorite), or escaping into never-ending games of Spades or dominoes. Yoga is on the docket. Nightclubs are not.

“He’s a serial killer’s dream,” says Butler’s personal strength trainer Travelle Gaines, who counts NFL superstars like Antonio Brown and Demaryius Thomas as clients. “He does the same shit every fucking day.”

Butler is shirtless in tan pants and Jordan slides when we first meet outside his pool house. “Want a beer?” He reaches into a brown Albertson’s bag and removes a cold can of Michelob Ultra. His hair is braided tight like a crown, and it’s impossible not to notice how much his chest looks like gladiator armor. This is also a reminder that our interview (and a photo shoot he’s doing) have pushed Butler out of his usual routine, but he doesn’t seem too worried about it.

“I’ll just make it all up in a short period tonight and be really tired in the morning when I wake up and start my schedule all over again, but it’s part of it,” he says.

The mood when Butler enters a room somehow relaxes and tightens at the exact same time. His personality glides from standup comedian to superintendent. He’s genuinely curious, cerebral, and a little mischievous. Ultimately, everything, from his schedule to his diet to the people he chooses to spend every waking minute around, is about efficiency. Even in this wonderland, with potted lemon trees at every turn, a hoard of wicker patio furniture, and a Southern California sun that dares anyone under it to do nothing but sip gin and tonics on end, Butler’s playfulness has limitations.

“I’m confrontational. I feed off of confrontation. It makes me go.”

The conversation turns to his work ethic. He understands not everyone is as driven as he is, but can’t comprehend the thought of someone (especially another NBA player) not doing all they can to reach their full potential. It bugs him, even though he knows it shouldn’t.

“I think it’s wrong for me to think that people want what I want because in reality they don’t. Some people are OK with getting drafted. Some people are OK with playing two years in the league, four years in the league, six years in the league. Some people are OK with just scoring a basket in an NBA game. I’m not OK with any of that. I’m not satisfied until I win a championship,” he says. “I want everybody to work the way that I work and it’s wrong for me to think like that because people don’t do it! But in my mind I’m just like why? Why don’t you want to chase greatness the way that I do?”

Last January, after a humiliating loss in Atlanta that saw the Bulls blow a 10 point lead with three minutes left, Butler was fined for publicly dragging his teammates through the mud. After he was traded, former NBA player Antoine Walker called Butler a “bad locker room guy.” A recent report suggested the Boston Celtics had concerns about trading for the three-time All-Star because Butler might clash with Gordon Hayward, who they eventually signed in free agency.

Butler has little patience for people less driven than he is. Photo: Mike DiNovo-USA TODAY Sports.

“Even as a first-semester freshman, he wasn’t gonna let guys drift through practice,” says Mike Marquis, Butler’s coach at Tyler Junior College. “He is very, very competitive, and he is great when he finds an enemy. I think that’s one of his charms. He knows how to psychologically find an enemy and attack it.”

I ask Butler if he’s a difficult person to be around.

“Yes,” he says.

But it’s not as simple as that. Difficult is in the eye of the beholder, just like laziness.

“But then again it’s bad on my part because I know better,” Butler says. “It’s kind of contradicting itself. It’s like, ‘Well Jimmy you know better, don’t do that.’ But then the other half is just like, ‘Well, if you can do it everybody can do it.’ But then it goes back again. ‘You know that it don’t work like that, right? Yeah, I know, but I think that it can so everybody needs to work like this.'”

“I think it takes a very special person to deal with Jimmy Butler,” says Gaines. “He’s actually too smart for his own good.”

Once the photo shoot ends, we migrate down to the main house. Ready to play Spades, Butler is hunched over a square folding table that’s been pummeled by thousands of domino tiles. He’s flanked by Phil Ducasse, his newly appointed personal photographer, Ifeyani Koggu, a former Arkansas State guard who Butler introduces as his brother, and Mike Smith, Butler’s mentee, of sorts, from Chicago who’s about to enter his sophomore season at Columbia. A chandelier the size of a kiddie pool hangs overhead. Boxes of Size 14 retro Jordans are stacked against the dining room wall, with loose jewelry and designer clothes casually spread across the table and floor.

Nearly two hours later the card game ends and Butler recedes to his theatre. He acknowledges that his whirlwind ascent altered relationships and transfigured his behavior in Chicago, but doesn’t feel taken for granted by the Bulls organization. Still, an old truism lingers: the one about how those who start in the mailroom can never shake how co-workers perceive them no matter how high they climb within the company. There’s a sense, from the outside looking in, that the Bulls didn’t appreciate how awesome Butler truly is.

He didn’t crack 400 minutes his rookie year. By his third season—his first of three straight appearances on the NBA’s All-Defensive second team—Butler averaged a team-high 38.7 minutes per game. That year he averaged 13.1 points. Two seasons later he was up to 20.9.

“I think they maybe expected me to stay the same, and I don’t think that that’s right. Like, I have changed. I will tell you that. But I think that I’ve changed for the better,” he says. “When I say for the better, whenever I was a rookie, averaging 0.8 points per game or whatever it might be, it wouldn’t matter if I scored that 0.8 because it wasn’t going to win or lose us a game. Now, you go forward a couple years when I’m averaging 20 points per game, that’s more than likely gonna cost us a game. It’s gonna be the difference between winning or losing. Am I right? So now I don’t give a damn about pressure, but if someone’s going to take the blame for something, who they gonna point to? Me. So yeah, I’ve changed, because I want to fucking win. I want to show that I can win. So the way I go about things, it’s not gonna be the way I went about things when I was a rookie, [when] I’m not gonna say anything. Now I’ve got something to fucking say.”

This is what he has to say. Or at least some of it:

“I’m confrontational. I feed off of confrontation. It makes me go. Not everybody’s like that. [Bulls head coach Fred Hoiberg] is not that coach, and there’s nothing wrong with that. There are different coaching styles and people are gonna say—which is what they did say—’It’s gonna be Jimmy’s team or it’s gonna be Fred’s team.’ Two total opposite ends of the spectrum. They’re either gonna try to win it now or they’re gonna go young. And you see which way they went with it. Completely fine. Yo, it’s y’all’s business. It’s y’all’s organization. It’s cool. And now I’m in Minnesota and couldn’t be happier.”

Despite elevating his game to an all-time high last year, too often he was forced to be MacGyver, constantly scraping for useful contributions from his scanty supporting cast while refusing to let constant double and triple teams minimize his impact. The Bulls struggled to boil water whenever he rested on the bench.

Chicago ranked 28th in three-point rate and 24th in three-point percentage yet Butler still dragged them to the playoffs. The floor opened up a tiny bit when Nikola Mirotic played the four, but aging, antiquated guards like Dwyane Wade and Rajon Rondo too often made the offense feel claustrophobic. It wasn’t an ideal environment for a wing scorer to thrive, but somehow Butler did.

From 2015 to 2017, the percentage of Butler’s two-point field goals that were unassisted increased by just over 20 percent, but his True Shooting percentage didn’t fall. He finished with more Win Shares than LeBron James, Russell Westbrook, and Kawhi Leonard last year, and was third in “Real Plus-Minus Wins,” a stat that estimates how many wins a player contributes to his team’s season total, behind only LeBron James and Steph Curry.

“You can’t put somebody in a box and then have them think outside the box. Jimmy thinks like there’s no box, so he has no ceiling. Every day we wake up to break boundaries,” Johnson says. “I’m able to develop him as a point guard, as a shooting guard, as a small forward, as a power forward, and as a center. He’s a basketball player. He’s a scorer. He’s not a shooter. He’s not just a primary driver. He can do pretty much anything that is asked of him from his coaches because he allowed me to prepare him for every single situation. The only person who can stop Jimmy is Jimmy. He don’t have a flaw.”

Even for a person as motivated as he is, Butler’s journey to the NBA was a miraculous tightrope walk. There were no AAU connections or free sneakers. Butler is from Tomball, Texas, a slight town about 30 miles outside Houston. After his mother kicked him out of the house when he was 13, Butler couchsurfed through his teenage years before finding relative stability when his friend’s mother agreed to take him in. The story has been told often, but remains too incredible to be sensationalized.

For the typical prospect, coming to average 20 points in the NBA is less likely than purchasing a winning Powerball ticket. For Butler, it was less likely than holding said ticket while riding in the backseat of a limousine with Beyonce, eloping in Vegas.

Butler didn’t receive any scholarship offers out of high school, but he did get noticed by a scout named Alan Branch. Branch identified qualities his colleagues missed, and started to chirp in the direction of any coaches who’d listen. You guys are missing a steal. But no offers were made even after Butler played well in a couple spring tournaments. Nobody thought he was Division-I material.

“The biggest thing I can say is he wasn’t flashy, he wasn’t a freak talent, and he was in the bushes,” Branch says.

So instead of preparing for his first year at a school like Texas Christian University or Morehead State, Branch introduced Butler to Coach Marquis at Tyler Junior College, about three hours north of Tomball. He spent a day working out in their gym, scrimmaged with some of their players and local high-school competition, and was offered a spot right away.

“Mike never saw him shoot the basketball,” Branch said. “Jimmy played like four or five possessions, made the right passes, got a rebound. He was just solid. You could just see the IQ.”

It’s impossible to know what would’ve happened had Branch never brought Butler to Marquis’s attention. There were other junior colleges in the area that might have granted Butler a chance to walk on, but a few critical variables would’ve spun in unpredictable directions had he played anywhere else. To start, Tyler was very good, and good teams draw Division-I eyeballs.

Up until that point in his career, Butler mostly operated in the frontcourt. He crashed the glass, defended well, and offered a tenaciousness that probably wouldn’t have the same effect against bigger, stronger competition. But thanks to the team’s roster construction, Marquis shifted Butler to the perimeter on a full-time basis, forcing him to showcase a more appealing and varied skill-set.

“I didn’t think people would draft him out of junior college after one year, but I thought he was draftable,” Marquis said. “I called [Bulls general manager] Gar Forman, who I had known since he was coaching at Iowa State and New Mexico State, and said there’s something special about Jimmy. If they just continued to watch his progress, they’d really, really like him.”

Far and away the longest lasting benefit from his time in Tyler was who he met while there. Butler’s roommate that season was a 6’7″ wing named Joe Fulce, who was recruited to play for Marquette University by the school’s then-assistant coach Buzz Williams.

“Every time I went to go see Joe, of course, I would say hello to Jimmy,” Williams says.

Fulce—who’s now a graduate assistant coach under Williams at Virginia Tech—and Butler were like a pair of Siamese fighting fish (who also happened to be friends). They competed in everything and played countless games of one on one, after practice, before games; even at random times in the middle of the night—whenever Butler wasn’t hypnotized by his eight hundredth viewing of The Lion King.

“I don’t know how many times I’d either wake up in the morning or wake up at night and his ass is sitting in bed, eating some snacks, with his feet crossed, with a cowboy hat on, watching the damn Lion King with some country music softly playing,” Fulce said to VICE Sports. “His ass is weird.” (Butler still really loves country music.)

Butler led Tyler in scoring and guided them to a 24-5 record. All the while, Fulce relentlessly pitched Williams on his roommate’s all-around potential. A little while later Williams became Marquette’s head coach. Butler was the first player he signed. His letter of intent was famously faxed over from a nearby McDonald’s, and his first day on campus doubled as the first day of school. Butler still had Fulce as his roommate, but never visited Milwaukee beforehand.

“I think from day one until the day he graduated, he became much more confident in who he was on and off the floor,” Williams says. “I think he became less distrustful. His personality showed more often. He was much more comfortable. Obviously, that was an extended period of time where his environment and the people in his environment were stable.”

In three years, Butler never dropped a class, skipped a meeting with his tutor, or showed up late to a weightlifting session. In large part due to Butler being Williams’s first signing, there was inescapable pressure on them both to perform. And through some tough times early on, a mutually beneficial bond was formed.

“What can I say, in some ways I’m proud of it and in other ways I’m not proud of it,” Williams says. “I was hard on him. I was hard on him in every way. I never gave him any relief in any facet of his life, and to his credit he never wanted one. I think as our time together transpired, he expected that. He wanted that. He wanted that as an example to everybody else on the team.”

Butler says the lessons learned in three years at Marquette still resonate, and his relationship with Williams remains strong. Now the head coach at Virginia Tech, Williams gave Butler a journal during his second year in the league. He still writes in it.

Next year, the journal will be different. He’ll be in a new city, with a new team, and a new set of expectations—at least externally. Internally, Butler still has a bottomless urge to be great. He’s forever that serial killer’s dream. He rolls out of bed each morning focused and ready to go for a 90-minute session with Johnson. It’s the first of two workouts they fight through every day. They start by zooming in on ball-handling, finishing, floaters, runners, one-legged jumpers, off-balance jumpers, side pick-and-rolls, middle pick-and-rolls, pick-and-roll passing, and so on and so forth.

He’s already one of the craftiest and effective downhill playmakers in basketball, but for Butler to truly max out his potential in the coming seasons, that jumper needs to stabilize. Last year, he knocked down 36.7 percent of his threes, which is right around league average and an improvement on the previous season. But a higher percentage of his field goal attempts were launched from the inefficient mid-range, where he only canned 38.2 percent. On the whole, that’s not an atrocious number, but it badly trails positional peers like Kawhi Leonard, Paul George, and Kevin Durant.

Later in the day, the second session with Johnson is devoted to shot mechanics—how he can better himself shooting on the move and off the bounce. They study preferable ways for him to create separation and sharpen his technique on fadeaways. Every workout is filmed, allowing Butler and Johnson to obsess over ball and hand placement. They really dig into the finer details that are necessary to make him a more potent all-around weapon.

After the morning workout, Butler rewards himself with a five-minute break and then embarks on a soul-crippling hour with Gaines. Gaines and Johnson work with other professional athletes but have still met with Butler almost every day for the past four years. They will continue to do so in Minnesota. When Butler goes on vacation, be it to Europe, Canada, Mexico, or Mars, Gaines and Johnson come along for the ride.

“I’m not cheap,” Gaines says. “But he pays whatever it costs and whatever it takes to keep his body right.”

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday are reserved for corrective exercises, movement prep, movement training, and strength training. Tuesdays and Thursdays are for conditioning work and agility training. Saturdays and Sundays are strictly conditioning. Sometimes they race on the beach or hop on a football field to sprint 110 yards at a time.

Sometimes they’ll get back on an actual basketball court just to embrace the delightful sensation that a gasser can have on the human body. Gassers are timed sprints where, starting on the baseline, Butler has 17 seconds to go half the court and back, then dart to the opposite end line before returning to where he started. “We’ll do 10 to 15 of those,” Gaines said. It sounds like torture, but for Butler the entire process is more vital than oxygen.

There are obvious reasons to think the hard work will continue to pay off. This year, Butler may find that instead of doing more with less, he’ll have the chance to do more with more. In Minnesota, defenses will have to worry about Towns, Wiggins, and Jeff Teague, the kind of score-first point guard Butler hasn’t played with since Derrick Rose’s body broke down. He’ll be able to allocate more energy towards the defensive end—Butler failed to make an All-Defensive team for the first time in three years last season. Despite just four percent body fat hanging from his 230-pound frame, Butler still gets tired every once in a while.

If he can hunt for more open opportunities behind the three-point line instead of settling on tough, contested heaves, he can be one of the most efficient players in the entire NBA.

That won’t necessarily be easy. The Timberwolves actually finished behind Chicago in three-point rate last season. And given how their roster is built, Thibodeau will likely lean on dated lineups that can be exploited when up against modernized rotations. Gorgui Dieng and Taj Gibson will platoon the power forward position, even though they’re both better suited as backup fives. Life on the court may be cluttered once again.

But if Towns leaps forward on the defensive end, Thibs could deploy more versatile units that will accentuate Butler’s strengths. The floor will open up and, if that’s the case, it’s hard to see how he won’t be a legitimate MVP candidate. According to Synergy Sports, Butler ranked in the 77th percentile as a pick-and-roll ball-handler last year. He was 95th in transition, 92nd in spot-up situations, and 91st in the post.

The Timberwolves boast a core that can, in Towns’s words, evolve into a dynasty. Butler likes the fit and is confident he can teach Thibodeau’s system to younger teammates who struggled to grasp it last season. But he’s also understandably cautious when it comes to attaching any bold claims to a group that ranked 26th in defense last year.

“I don’t like the word ‘Super Team’,” he says. “I think everybody’s human. That’s [what] people label Golden State. They’re a really really, really good basketball team. Super team?…On any given time they can be beat, too. It’s all about who’s playing basketball the best at the right time.”

Towns and Wiggins can fill an ocean with their upside. Photo: Chris Humphreys-USA TODAY Sports.

Dethroning the Warriors is goal number one. But even if the Timberwolves fall short, Butler will certainly use his time in Minneapolis to expand his fame over the next few years. With the league’s popularity increasing every day in countries all over the world, a genuine superstar’s brand is worth exponentially more than the $19.3 million Minnesota owes Butler this season. Off-court opportunities are constantly nipping at his attention. Three years ago, he took a 75 percent pay cut to go from adidas to Jordan, joining Blake Griffin, Carmelo Anthony, Kawhi Leonard, Russell Westbrook, and over a dozen other NBA stars. (During our day together, Butler poked fun at a camera operator wearing adidas tennis shoes.)

Bonobos, a menswear company that was recently bought by Walmart, made Butler their brand ambassador last August. And just this month he released his own signature underwear line with PSD, a company Kyrie Irving and Chandler Parsons are also affiliated with. (Butler’s photographer Phil envisions a coffee table book. “If Kim Kardashian can do it,” he says. “Why can’t Jimmy?”)

Last year, he dipped his toe in Hollywood by appearing in Office Christmas Party, a comedy his life guru Mark Wahlberg helped put him in. Butler met Wahlberg in 2013 while the actor was filming a Transformers movie in Chicago. They’ve been close friends ever since, with Butler citing the 46-year-old’s vigorous work ethic as one of the biggest inspirations in his life.

“He’s already one of the best at what he does, but he works as though he’s not. The guy wakes up at 3:30, 4:00 AM to work out. Then he’ll go take his mind off of stuff and play some golf,” Butler says. “He eats healthy and spends time with his family and he’s reading scripts and he’s in meetings and he’s on phone calls. Before you know it, it’s time to do it all over again the next day.” (Butler’s all-time favorite Wahlberg movie is Shooter. “Bob Lee Swagger is that dude,” he says.)

Butler played himself in Office Christmas Party, alongside Jason Bateman and Olivia Munn. He wasn’t stiff in his only scene; the film’s two directors, Josh Gordon and Will Speck, were impressed by his initial foray into a brand new field. “LeBron surprised everyone in Trainwreck by being so fully formed as an actor,” Gordon told VICE Sports. “If Jimmy wanted to [act in the future], he could do it. He’s got that kind of charisma. It’s up to him.”

Butler isn’t sure how much longer he wants to be an NBA player, but hopes to squeeze in at least seven years, two championships, and widespread respect as one of his era’s greatest stars before his body cries uncle. (No big deal.) If he opts out of his player option in 2019, the former Most Improved Player can experience unrestricted free agency for the very first time; just about every team that can afford a max contract will be interested. Even though that level of courtship is something Butler has never gone through before, he’s yet to think about what it’ll feel like.

“I’ll tell you one thing. I’m gonna go or I’m gonna be or I’m gonna stay wherever I’m wanted, man. Because that’s all anybody ever wants,” he says. “To be appreciated.”

Jimmy Butler Has Something To Say syndicated from http://ift.tt/2ug2Ns6

[flauntpage]

Jimmy Butler Has Something To Say

Jimmy Butler's cell phone is shaking. We're plopped down in the last row of his home theatre on a couch that feels like a velvet sponge, a blanket covers his outstretched legs.

Butler leans over, looks down, smiles. He picks the phone up, shakes his head, then turns it around to reveal who's on the other end. Coach Thibs. "See?" Butler says. "It's crazy, right? He's always on my phone."

Everything about Butler's place in this exact moment and time can and should be described as "crazy." From the majestic hillside villa tucked away in Malibu—a remote paradise where the 27-year-old lives with a tight crew of friends, family, and paid aides (a photographer is sleeping in the guest house)—to the sudden reunion with Tom Thibodeau, the tireless coach who helped turn Butler into one of the least probable success stories in NBA history, to the Chicago Bulls needlessly trading Butler earlier this summer...the list can go on forever.

Butler's origin story is absurd. Small town Texas kids with no scholarship offers out of high school don't become NBA role players, much less superstars. They aren't oddball country music-loving characters who pal around with famous actors. And they certainly don't accomplish all they have while going out of their way to stand tall as a positive figure off the court. Butler won the NBA Cares Community Assist Award last April, and says he aspires to use his broadening platform to navigate the contentious social issues that plague the country. But his rags to riches past and lavish present are not as moving as what promises to lie ahead.

Butler was voted onto his first All-NBA team last season, with scoring, assist, and rebound averages usually associated with someone headed to the Hall of Fame. (Butler tallied more Win Shares last year than Larry Bird when he won his first MVP). But there's still room for improvement, and next season Butler will be surrounded by players with enough talent to relieve some of the pressure he's felt in years past.

It's been an intense, course-altering summer for Butler, whose reward for establishing himself as one of the world's 15 best basketball players was the trade, three months ago, from Chicago to the Minnesota Timberwolves, a franchise that's perpetually struggling to stand on its own two feet. But Butler—alongside Karl-Anthony Towns and Andrew Wiggins, two Rookie of the Year winners who can fill an ocean with their talent and upside—is poised to change all that.

Coach Thibs is always calling Butler—and always calling his number. Photo: Russ Isabella-USA TODAY Sports

Already one of, if not the, most physically fit individuals in a league overcrowded by the most athletic specimens on earth, Butler dedicated his summer to figuring out a way to get into even more ridiculous shape—the better to handle one of the NBA's toughest workloads. (According to NBA.com, he ran more miles per game than all but two other players during 2016-17, and led the entire league in each of the previous two seasons.)

"The man, simply, is addicted to working," says Butler's personal skills trainer Chris Johnson.

His weekly schedule consists of approximately nine hundred thousand hours of on-court basketball drills, spliced with a grueling workout plan that made my eyes water when I first heard it. Without an alarm, Butler is out of bed by 5:45 AM and on the court by 6:00.

"He's a serial killer's dream. He does the same shit every fucking day."

Meals hardly deviate. It's scrambled egg whites, turkey bacon, turkey sausage, and a protein shake for breakfast. Lunch is Chipotle, with plain white rice, double chicken, light lettuce, and half a cup of vinaigrette (no cilantro). At night, his chef will prepare a dish around fish or chicken. He hasn't had red meat in years and steers clear of alcohol.

When Butler isn't drenched in sweat, most of his free time is either spent in his theatre watching the same movies over and over (Friday is a favorite), or escaping into never-ending games of Spades or dominoes. Yoga is on the docket. Nightclubs are not.

"He's a serial killer's dream," says Butler's personal strength trainer Travelle Gaines, who counts NFL superstars like Antonio Brown and Demaryius Thomas as clients. "He does the same shit every fucking day."

Butler is shirtless in tan pants and Jordan slides when we first meet outside his pool house. "Want a beer?" He reaches into a brown Albertson's bag and removes a cold can of Michelob Ultra. His hair is braided tight like a crown, and it's impossible not to notice how much his chest looks like gladiator armor. This is also a reminder that our interview (and a photo shoot he's doing) have pushed Butler out of his usual routine, but he doesn't seem too worried about it.

"I'll just make it all up in a short period tonight and be really tired in the morning when I wake up and start my schedule all over again, but it's part of it," he says.

The mood when Butler enters a room somehow relaxes and tightens at the exact same time. His personality glides from standup comedian to superintendent. He's genuinely curious, cerebral, and a little mischievous. Ultimately, everything, from his schedule to his diet to the people he chooses to spend every waking minute around, is about efficiency. Even in this wonderland, with potted lemon trees at every turn, a hoard of wicker patio furniture, and a Southern California sun that dares anyone under it to do nothing but sip gin and tonics on end, Butler's playfulness has limitations.

"I'm confrontational. I feed off of confrontation. It makes me go."

The conversation turns to his work ethic. He understands not everyone is as driven as he is, but can't comprehend the thought of someone (especially another NBA player) not doing all they can to reach their full potential. It bugs him, even though he knows it shouldn't.

"I think it's wrong for me to think that people want what I want because in reality they don't. Some people are OK with getting drafted. Some people are OK with playing two years in the league, four years in the league, six years in the league. Some people are OK with just scoring a basket in an NBA game. I'm not OK with any of that. I'm not satisfied until I win a championship," he says. "I want everybody to work the way that I work and it's wrong for me to think like that because people don't do it! But in my mind I'm just like why? Why don't you want to chase greatness the way that I do?"

Last January, after a humiliating loss in Atlanta that saw the Bulls blow a 10 point lead with three minutes left, Butler was fined for publicly dragging his teammates through the mud. After he was traded, former NBA player Antoine Walker called Butler a "bad locker room guy." A recent report suggested the Boston Celtics had concerns about trading for the three-time All-Star because Butler might clash with Gordon Hayward, who they eventually signed in free agency.

Butler has little patience for people less driven than he is. Photo: Mike DiNovo-USA TODAY Sports.

"Even as a first-semester freshman, he wasn't gonna let guys drift through practice," says Mike Marquis, Butler's coach at Tyler Junior College. "He is very, very competitive, and he is great when he finds an enemy. I think that's one of his charms. He knows how to psychologically find an enemy and attack it."

I ask Butler if he's a difficult person to be around.

"Yes," he says.

But it's not as simple as that. Difficult is in the eye of the beholder, just like laziness.

"But then again it's bad on my part because I know better," Butler says. "It's kind of contradicting itself. It's like, 'Well Jimmy you know better, don't do that.' But then the other half is just like, 'Well, if you can do it everybody can do it.' But then it goes back again. 'You know that it don't work like that, right? Yeah, I know, but I think that it can so everybody needs to work like this.'"

"I think it takes a very special person to deal with Jimmy Butler," says Gaines. "He's actually too smart for his own good."

Once the photo shoot ends, we migrate down to the main house. Ready to play Spades, Butler is hunched over a square folding table that's been pummeled by thousands of domino tiles. He's flanked by Phil Ducasse, his newly appointed personal photographer, Ifeyani Koggu, a former Arkansas State guard who Butler introduces as his brother, and Mike Smith, Butler's mentee, of sorts, from Chicago who's about to enter his sophomore season at Columbia. A chandelier the size of a kiddie pool hangs overhead. Boxes of Size 14 retro Jordans are stacked against the dining room wall, with loose jewelry and designer clothes casually spread across the table and floor.

Nearly two hours later the card game ends and Butler recedes to his theatre. He acknowledges that his whirlwind ascent altered relationships and transfigured his behavior in Chicago, but doesn't feel taken for granted by the Bulls organization. Still, an old truism lingers: the one about how those who start in the mailroom can never shake how co-workers perceive them no matter how high they climb within the company. There's a sense, from the outside looking in, that the Bulls didn't appreciate how awesome Butler truly is.

He didn't crack 400 minutes his rookie year. By his third season—his first of three straight appearances on the NBA's All-Defensive second team—Butler averaged a team-high 38.7 minutes per game. That year he averaged 13.1 points. Two seasons later he was up to 20.9.

"I think they maybe expected me to stay the same, and I don't think that that's right. Like, I have changed. I will tell you that. But I think that I've changed for the better," he says. "When I say for the better, whenever I was a rookie, averaging 0.8 points per game or whatever it might be, it wouldn't matter if I scored that 0.8 because it wasn't going to win or lose us a game. Now, you go forward a couple years when I'm averaging 20 points per game, that's more than likely gonna cost us a game. It's gonna be the difference between winning or losing. Am I right? So now I don't give a damn about pressure, but if someone's going to take the blame for something, who they gonna point to? Me. So yeah, I've changed, because I want to fucking win. I want to show that I can win. So the way I go about things, it's not gonna be the way I went about things when I was a rookie, [when] I'm not gonna say anything. Now I've got something to fucking say."

This is what he has to say. Or at least some of it:

"I'm confrontational. I feed off of confrontation. It makes me go. Not everybody's like that. [Bulls head coach Fred Hoiberg] is not that coach, and there's nothing wrong with that. There are different coaching styles and people are gonna say—which is what they did say—'It's gonna be Jimmy's team or it's gonna be Fred's team.' Two total opposite ends of the spectrum. They're either gonna try to win it now or they're gonna go young. And you see which way they went with it. Completely fine. Yo, it's y'all's business. It's y'all's organization. It's cool. And now I'm in Minnesota and couldn't be happier."

Despite elevating his game to an all-time high last year, too often he was forced to be MacGyver, constantly scraping for useful contributions from his scanty supporting cast while refusing to let constant double and triple teams minimize his impact. The Bulls struggled to boil water whenever he rested on the bench.

Chicago ranked 28th in three-point rate and 24th in three-point percentage yet Butler still dragged them to the playoffs. The floor opened up a tiny bit when Nikola Mirotic played the four, but aging, antiquated guards like Dwyane Wade and Rajon Rondo too often made the offense feel claustrophobic. It wasn't an ideal environment for a wing scorer to thrive, but somehow Butler did.

From 2015 to 2017, the percentage of Butler's two-point field goals that were unassisted increased by just over 20 percent, but his True Shooting percentage didn't fall. He finished with more Win Shares than LeBron James, Russell Westbrook, and Kawhi Leonard last year, and was third in "Real Plus-Minus Wins," a stat that estimates how many wins a player contributes to his team's season total, behind only LeBron James and Steph Curry.

"You can't put somebody in a box and then have them think outside the box. Jimmy thinks like there's no box, so he has no ceiling. Every day we wake up to break boundaries," Johnson says. "I'm able to develop him as a point guard, as a shooting guard, as a small forward, as a power forward, and as a center. He's a basketball player. He's a scorer. He's not a shooter. He's not just a primary driver. He can do pretty much anything that is asked of him from his coaches because he allowed me to prepare him for every single situation. The only person who can stop Jimmy is Jimmy. He don't have a flaw."

Even for a person as motivated as he is, Butler's journey to the NBA was a miraculous tightrope walk. There were no AAU connections or free sneakers. Butler is from Tomball, Texas, a slight town about 30 miles outside Houston. After his mother kicked him out of the house when he was 13, Butler couchsurfed through his teenage years before finding relative stability when his friend's mother agreed to take him in. The story has been told often, but remains too incredible to be sensationalized.

For the typical prospect, coming to average 20 points in the NBA is less likely than purchasing a winning Powerball ticket. For Butler, it was less likely than holding said ticket while riding in the backseat of a limousine with Beyonce, eloping in Vegas.

Butler didn't receive any scholarship offers out of high school, but he did get noticed by a scout named Alan Branch. Branch identified qualities his colleagues missed, and started to chirp in the direction of any coaches who'd listen. You guys are missing a steal. But no offers were made even after Butler played well in a couple spring tournaments. Nobody thought he was Division-I material.

"The biggest thing I can say is he wasn't flashy, he wasn't a freak talent, and he was in the bushes," Branch says.

So instead of preparing for his first year at a school like Texas Christian University or Morehead State, Branch introduced Butler to Coach Marquis at Tyler Junior College, about three hours north of Tomball. He spent a day working out in their gym, scrimmaged with some of their players and local high-school competition, and was offered a spot right away.

"Mike never saw him shoot the basketball," Branch said. "Jimmy played like four or five possessions, made the right passes, got a rebound. He was just solid. You could just see the IQ."

It's impossible to know what would've happened had Branch never brought Butler to Marquis's attention. There were other junior colleges in the area that might have granted Butler a chance to walk on, but a few critical variables would've spun in unpredictable directions had he played anywhere else. To start, Tyler was very good, and good teams draw Division-I eyeballs.

Up until that point in his career, Butler mostly operated in the frontcourt. He crashed the glass, defended well, and offered a tenaciousness that probably wouldn't have the same effect against bigger, stronger competition. But thanks to the team's roster construction, Marquis shifted Butler to the perimeter on a full-time basis, forcing him to showcase a more appealing and varied skill-set.

"I didn't think people would draft him out of junior college after one year, but I thought he was draftable," Marquis said. "I called [Bulls general manager] Gar Forman, who I had known since he was coaching at Iowa State and New Mexico State, and said there's something special about Jimmy. If they just continued to watch his progress, they'd really, really like him."

Far and away the longest lasting benefit from his time in Tyler was who he met while there. Butler's roommate that season was a 6'7" wing named Joe Fulce, who was recruited to play for Marquette University by the school's then-assistant coach Buzz Williams.

"Every time I went to go see Joe, of course, I would say hello to Jimmy," Williams says.

Fulce—who's now a graduate assistant coach under Williams at Virginia Tech—and Butler were like a pair of Siamese fighting fish (who also happened to be friends). They competed in everything and played countless games of one on one, after practice, before games; even at random times in the middle of the night—whenever Butler wasn't hypnotized by his eight hundredth viewing of The Lion King.

"I don't know how many times I'd either wake up in the morning or wake up at night and his ass is sitting in bed, eating some snacks, with his feet crossed, with a cowboy hat on, watching the damn Lion King with some country music softly playing," Fulce said to VICE Sports. "His ass is weird." (Butler still really loves country music.)

Butler led Tyler in scoring and guided them to a 24-5 record. All the while, Fulce relentlessly pitched Williams on his roommate's all-around potential. A little while later Williams became Marquette's head coach. Butler was the first player he signed. His letter of intent was famously faxed over from a nearby McDonald's, and his first day on campus doubled as the first day of school. Butler still had Fulce as his roommate, but never visited Milwaukee beforehand.

"I think from day one until the day he graduated, he became much more confident in who he was on and off the floor," Williams says. "I think he became less distrustful. His personality showed more often. He was much more comfortable. Obviously, that was an extended period of time where his environment and the people in his environment were stable."

In three years, Butler never dropped a class, skipped a meeting with his tutor, or showed up late to a weightlifting session. In large part due to Butler being Williams's first signing, there was inescapable pressure on them both to perform. And through some tough times early on, a mutually beneficial bond was formed.

"What can I say, in some ways I'm proud of it and in other ways I'm not proud of it," Williams says. "I was hard on him. I was hard on him in every way. I never gave him any relief in any facet of his life, and to his credit he never wanted one. I think as our time together transpired, he expected that. He wanted that. He wanted that as an example to everybody else on the team."

Butler says the lessons learned in three years at Marquette still resonate, and his relationship with Williams remains strong. Now the head coach at Virginia Tech, Williams gave Butler a journal during his second year in the league. He still writes in it.

Next year, the journal will be different. He'll be in a new city, with a new team, and a new set of expectations—at least externally. Internally, Butler still has a bottomless urge to be great. He's forever that serial killer's dream. He rolls out of bed each morning focused and ready to go for a 90-minute session with Johnson. It's the first of two workouts they fight through every day. They start by zooming in on ball-handling, finishing, floaters, runners, one-legged jumpers, off-balance jumpers, side pick-and-rolls, middle pick-and-rolls, pick-and-roll passing, and so on and so forth.

He's already one of the craftiest and effective downhill playmakers in basketball, but for Butler to truly max out his potential in the coming seasons, that jumper needs to stabilize. Last year, he knocked down 36.7 percent of his threes, which is right around league average and an improvement on the previous season. But a higher percentage of his field goal attempts were launched from the inefficient mid-range, where he only canned 38.2 percent. On the whole, that's not an atrocious number, but it badly trails positional peers like Kawhi Leonard, Paul George, and Kevin Durant.

Later in the day, the second session with Johnson is devoted to shot mechanics—how he can better himself shooting on the move and off the bounce. They study preferable ways for him to create separation and sharpen his technique on fadeaways. Every workout is filmed, allowing Butler and Johnson to obsess over ball and hand placement. They really dig into the finer details that are necessary to make him a more potent all-around weapon.

After the morning workout, Butler rewards himself with a five-minute break and then embarks on a soul-crippling hour with Gaines. Gaines and Johnson work with other professional athletes but have still met with Butler almost every day for the past four years. They will continue to do so in Minnesota. When Butler goes on vacation, be it to Europe, Canada, Mexico, or Mars, Gaines and Johnson come along for the ride.

"I'm not cheap," Gaines says. "But he pays whatever it costs and whatever it takes to keep his body right."

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday are reserved for corrective exercises, movement prep, movement training, and strength training. Tuesdays and Thursdays are for conditioning work and agility training. Saturdays and Sundays are strictly conditioning. Sometimes they race on the beach or hop on a football field to sprint 110 yards at a time.

Sometimes they'll get back on an actual basketball court just to embrace the delightful sensation that a gasser can have on the human body. Gassers are timed sprints where, starting on the baseline, Butler has 17 seconds to go half the court and back, then dart to the opposite end line before returning to where he started. "We'll do 10 to 15 of those," Gaines said. It sounds like torture, but for Butler the entire process is more vital than oxygen.

There are obvious reasons to think the hard work will continue to pay off. This year, Butler may find that instead of doing more with less, he'll have the chance to do more with more. In Minnesota, defenses will have to worry about Towns, Wiggins, and Jeff Teague, the kind of score-first point guard Butler hasn't played with since Derrick Rose's body broke down. He'll be able to allocate more energy towards the defensive end—Butler failed to make an All-Defensive team for the first time in three years last season. Despite just four percent body fat hanging from his 230-pound frame, Butler still gets tired every once in a while.

If he can hunt for more open opportunities behind the three-point line instead of settling on tough, contested heaves, he can be one of the most efficient players in the entire NBA.

That won't necessarily be easy. The Timberwolves actually finished behind Chicago in three-point rate last season. And given how their roster is built, Thibodeau will likely lean on dated lineups that can be exploited when up against modernized rotations. Gorgui Dieng and Taj Gibson will platoon the power forward position, even though they're both better suited as backup fives. Life on the court may be cluttered once again.

But if Towns leaps forward on the defensive end, Thibs could deploy more versatile units that will accentuate Butler's strengths. The floor will open up and, if that's the case, it's hard to see how he won't be a legitimate MVP candidate. According to Synergy Sports, Butler ranked in the 77th percentile as a pick-and-roll ball-handler last year. He was 95th in transition, 92nd in spot-up situations, and 91st in the post.

The Timberwolves boast a core that can, in Towns's words, evolve into a dynasty. Butler likes the fit and is confident he can teach Thibodeau's system to younger teammates who struggled to grasp it last season. But he's also understandably cautious when it comes to attaching any bold claims to a group that ranked 26th in defense last year.

"I don't like the word 'Super Team'," he says. "I think everybody's human. That's [what] people label Golden State. They're a really really, really good basketball team. Super team?...On any given time they can be beat, too. It's all about who's playing basketball the best at the right time."

Towns and Wiggins can fill an ocean with their upside. Photo: Chris Humphreys-USA TODAY Sports.

Dethroning the Warriors is goal number one. But even if the Timberwolves fall short, Butler will certainly use his time in Minneapolis to expand his fame over the next few years. With the league's popularity increasing every day in countries all over the world, a genuine superstar's brand is worth exponentially more than the $19.3 million Minnesota owes Butler this season. Off-court opportunities are constantly nipping at his attention. Three years ago, he took a 75 percent pay cut to go from adidas to Jordan, joining Blake Griffin, Carmelo Anthony, Kawhi Leonard, Russell Westbrook, and over a dozen other NBA stars. (During our day together, Butler poked fun at a camera operator wearing adidas tennis shoes.)

Bonobos, a menswear company that was recently bought by Walmart, made Butler their brand ambassador last August. And just this month he released his own signature underwear line with PSD, a company Kyrie Irving and Chandler Parsons are also affiliated with. (Butler's photographer Phil envisions a coffee table book. "If Kim Kardashian can do it," he says. "Why can't Jimmy?")

Last year, he dipped his toe in Hollywood by appearing in Office Christmas Party, a comedy his life guru Mark Wahlberg helped put him in. Butler met Wahlberg in 2013 while the actor was filming a Transformers movie in Chicago. They've been close friends ever since, with Butler citing the 46-year-old's vigorous work ethic as one of the biggest inspirations in his life.

"He's already one of the best at what he does, but he works as though he's not. The guy wakes up at 3:30, 4:00 AM to work out. Then he'll go take his mind off of stuff and play some golf," Butler says. "He eats healthy and spends time with his family and he's reading scripts and he's in meetings and he's on phone calls. Before you know it, it's time to do it all over again the next day." (Butler's all-time favorite Wahlberg movie is Shooter. "Bob Lee Swagger is that dude," he says.)

Butler played himself in Office Christmas Party, alongside Jason Bateman and Olivia Munn. He wasn't stiff in his only scene; the film's two directors, Josh Gordon and Will Speck, were impressed by his initial foray into a brand new field. "LeBron surprised everyone in Trainwreck by being so fully formed as an actor," Gordon told VICE Sports. "If Jimmy wanted to [act in the future], he could do it. He's got that kind of charisma. It's up to him."

Butler isn't sure how much longer he wants to be an NBA player, but hopes to squeeze in at least seven years, two championships, and widespread respect as one of his era's greatest stars before his body cries uncle. (No big deal.) If he opts out of his player option in 2019, the former Most Improved Player can experience unrestricted free agency for the very first time; just about every team that can afford a max contract will be interested. Even though that level of courtship is something Butler has never gone through before, he's yet to think about what it'll feel like.

"I'll tell you one thing," he says. "I'm gonna go or I'm gonna be or I'm gonna stay wherever I'm wanted, man. Because that's all anybody ever wants," he says. "To be appreciated."

Jimmy Butler Has Something To Say published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

[whatisgameofthrones]

Season 7 Episode 6 Recap

I’m uploading this late because I got home from Gencon on Sunday. I was home by the time the episode aired, but I was way too tired to watch it. Instead, I laid on the couch and watched rhythm game videos for like two hours. By the way, at Gencon I saw a bunch of things like coasters that said “I Drink and I Know Things” in the Game of Thrones font. As I am sure somebody has said this, it must mean that at least one of the characters drinks and also knows things. I can relate to this quote because I am currently drinking wine.

Previously

The redhead’s father was a traitor, so she must prove herself. I don’t know who she is. Arya found that paper. Dennis is unlike her father. Jon Snow received a sword. The roving gang of Some Guys looked in that fire. Have we seen those dudes again? I forget. Jon and his friends are in some sort of cold place.

Introduction/Theme song

So the introduction definitely changed. Kings Landing. Dragonstone, which I think was the place that had all of the dragonstone. Winterfell. That looks like the castle where Jon Snow and the Starks are from. The Wall. Eastwatch, which is part of the wall. I think that’s the cold place where Jon is. Some place that either wasn’t labelled or maybe I just missed the label.

The actual show

Jon and his buddies are still cold. They’re talking about the differences between the north side and south sides. The one guy was sold to a witch. He’s all like, “You guys sold me to a witch,” and everybody else is like, “Stop complaining,” but he’s like, “You literally sold me to a witch and she stole my blood.”

Jon shows the one guy his sword. “Your father gave me this sword in the show intro. He put a wolf on it instead of a bear. I like wolves. Do you want it, though?” The guy doesn’t.

Arya tells stories about how their father used to watch them from the watchin’ balcony where everybody watches things. I’m just going to start calling this place “Winterfell”. Don’t correct me if I’m wrong. Anyway, she tells her sister a story like, “One time I was bad at archery, and dad was watching me. Now he’s dead.” The story needs some workshopping. She then reads the paper that she found before, which was written by her sister about their father’s death. They argue about which one of them is cooler and tougher. I forget the one sister’s name. I know it was written on that paper. Sansa? Arya says something about Sansa and a guy named Joffrey. It’s probably “Geoffrey” like the Toys R Us giraffe, but she pronounces it “Joffrey”.

Jon and his buddies are still walking. It seems like it took them no time to reach this place; now it’s taking forever to get to wherever they’re going now. Everybody’s cold and tired and they start hitting on each other. Eye patch bro tries to give a motivational speech about how he fights for his life. But Jon is like “But everybody dies” and the guy is like “Oh right. It’s not a very good motivational speech I guess.”

Oh, these are the roving gang of Some Guys. I didn’t recognize them because nearly everybody looks and dresses the same.

Peter Dinklage and Dragontales are hanging out by the fire. By the way, I didn’t get around to trying the Game of Thrones card game at Gencon. However, I heard that one of the guys that worked on it also worked on Twilight Imperium, which is cool. Wait, did Peter Dinklage just say his father was Joffrey? For a room that’s completely open to sunlight on one side and has a fire on the other, it sure is dark in here. Peter Dinklage gets all Sun Tzu about understanding your enemy. Peter Dinklage says something about planning for the long term, and Dragontales responds by saying that they should have planned for the short term, but she does it in a way that makes it sound like she’s making a short joke. I’d say that’s a low blow, but that also sounds like a short joke.

We’re back with Jon and Some Guys. In the dense cold the one guy grunts and points at an AT-AT. Nevermind, it’s just a bear. They get in a circle because bears are afraid of circles. Or so they thought. Two guys with +1 longswords try to attack the bear, as flaming longswords do an extra 1d6 fire damage. The bear attacks a bunch of them. They cauterize the one guy’s wounds with one of the flaming longswords, which is a really creative use of magic items.

Sansa is whining to that priest looking dude. Did I ever give him a nickname?

Yep, Jon and Some Guys are still walking. Just… walking and talking. At work today at least 4 people were bugging me about putting a new post up. I made a deal with my one coworker that I promised to watch the episode tonight if he would watch the first episode of the Ducktales reboot. If you’re reading this, you know who you are, and you better be prepared to talk about Ducktales. (The reboot is really good, by the way.)

It looks like Voldemort has stumbled upon the Some Guys fire. They Some Guys attack and… win. I think? Like, Voldemort get stabbed and he shatters into ice, and then all of the other zombie guys also just collapse. Except for that one. That’s it, right? Like, end of show, the Ice King Voldemort is dead. They notice that they’re about to get swarmed so they start running. Yep, then they get swarmed. I’m just now noticing how great a Game of Thrones themed Dead of Winter would probably be. At least, I think it could be cool. There was a GoT Catan at Gencon, which didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. Okay, I’ll stop talking about Gencon, maybe. The main guys make their way to a frozen lake. They get caught in the middle, but this holds off the hoards of zoms. Meanwhile, their one friend runs until he falls flat on his face. But he was right in front of the door! He’s good though, and he’s like “send a raven”. Back on Some Guys island their one friend dies. Jon Snow pours out a forty of the body of his dead homie, and they set his body on fire. I don’t quite know why. That seems like a worse way to dispose of him than to just let his body freeze. Oh, by the way, they still have the one zom with them, but it’s tied up. Also, they’re still surrounded. And up on that hill is Voldemort. I guess he’s not dead. Or maybe he got better. Maybe it was another Voldemort?

Sansa gets invited to Kings Landing. Apparently there’s a guy named Littlefinger. I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to this scene because my friend texted me. They were actually walking by our house and saw that we were watching Game of Thrones.

Peter Dinklage is really worried that Dragontales will die. He brought this up before. He’s like, “Who’s gonna have all your stuff? Can I have your stuff?” Dragontales flies away. On a dragon. It’s not like she can just fly, though that would be cool, too.

Some Guys start passing the time by throwing rocks at zombies, like you do. The one Zom realizes that he can just walk across the lake. The rest of the zoms are like “Oh, yeah. Why didn’t we do this earlier?” The zombies start attacking from all sides, but slowly because these are important characters and at least some of them have to live a few more episodes. I guess this is less like Dead of Winter and more like Zombicide. I like tabletop games. Jon Snow shoves a guy off a ledge into a pit of zoms. I think it was by accident. This activates sad slow motion combat. Oh, and now there are dragons. Dragontales is here! Dragons are powerful because they have flying, which in this case is a much more effective form of evasion than the zombies with snow covered landwalk. That’s another gaming joke. Gencon was fun, okay? Dragontales is here to save Jon Snow. But then Voldemort shows up with his pointy stick, and throws the stick at a dragon. Not the dragon that they were going to ride, but one of the other ones. The dragon dies to direct damage. Now I’m sad because dragons are like birds. Wow, everybody else was trying to kill dragons with big weapons, but nobody bothered to figure out their greatest weakness: pointy sticks. Voldemort tries to throw another pointy stick at the dragon they’re riding, but Dragontales is smart enough to serpentine. Oh, and they took off without Jon Snow. He was too busy drowning in freezing cold water. A guy on a horse shows up with a +1 flaming flail. I think it’s Jon Snow’s uncle? Anyway, Jon takes off on the horse and the other guy fights off the rest of the… oh nevermind. He’s dead.

Now where are they? Is this the place in the wall from the intro? Eastwatch? Dragontales sees Jon approach on this horse. They all board a boat. I don’t know whose boat this is or where it came from. I thought Dragontales only got around by riding dragons.

Sansa finds her sister’s collection of realistic masks. She’s like, “Where did you get these?” and Arya is all mysterious about it. But they’re curiously well-made masks. Sansa doubles down on the masks and gets real stern. “What’s with these faces? Have you been snorting masks again? I told you to stop hanging out with those Spirit Halloween employees.” Arya gets real creepy like she’s about to steal Sansa’s face, but then she doesn’t. The face harvest will wait for another day.

Back aboard the boat Dragontales and Jon Snow talk about how they’re going to fight the (K)night king. Jon calls Dragontales “Danny”. Do you think his name is Jon Snow because he’s always cold? Hahahaha. Like, snow is cold. Hahahahahahaha. That’s hilarious. Here comes cold Jon; he sure does like the snow. Hahahahahaha.

The zoms dredge the dragon from the lake. Oh shit, are they going to zombify the dragon? Dragon zombie? That’d be cool. Oh shit, I think they just did. Voldemort put his hand on the dragon and it opened its eye. And its eye is blue. Now the army of the dead has a blue-eyes white dragon. More gaming jokes.

Next time

Soldiers. Boats. Soldiers. Horses. Soldiers. Horses. Boats. Castles. Soldiers. Castles.

[amtushinfosolutionspage]

Jimmy Butler Has Something To Say

Jimmy Butler’s cell phone is shaking. We’re plopped down in the last row of his home theatre on a couch that feels like a velvet sponge, a blanket covers his outstretched legs.

Butler leans over, looks down, smiles. He picks the phone up, shakes his head, then turns it around to reveal who’s on the other end. Coach Thibs. “See?” Butler says. “It’s crazy, right? He’s always on my phone.”

Everything about Butler’s place in this exact moment and time can and should be described as “crazy.” From the majestic hillside villa tucked away in Malibu—a remote paradise where the 27-year-old lives with a tight crew of friends, family, and paid aides (a photographer is sleeping in the guest house)—to the sudden reunion with Tom Thibodeau, the tireless coach who helped turn Butler into one of the least probable success stories in NBA history, to the Chicago Bulls needlessly trading Butler earlier this summer…the list can go on forever.

Butler’s origin story is absurd. Small town Texas kids with no scholarship offers out of high school don’t become NBA role players, much less superstars. They aren’t oddball country music-loving characters who pal around with movie stars. And they certainly don’t accomplish all they have while going out of their way to stand tall as a positive figure off the court. Butler won the NBA Cares Community Assist Award last April, and says he aspires to use his broadening platform to navigate the contentious social issues that plague the country. But his rags to riches past and lavish present are not as moving as what promises to lie ahead.

Butler was voted onto his first All-NBA team last season, with scoring, assist, and rebound averages usually associated with someone headed to the Hall of Fame. (Butler tallied more Win Shares last year than Larry Bird when he won his first MVP). But there’s still room for improvement, and next season Butler will be surrounded by players with enough talent to relieve some of the pressure he’s felt in years past.

It’s been an intense, course-altering summer for Butler, whose reward for establishing himself as one of the world’s 15 best basketball players was the trade, three months ago, from Chicago to the Minnesota Timberwolves, a franchise that’s perpetually struggling to stand on its own two feet. But Butler—alongside Karl-Anthony Towns and Andrew Wiggins, two Rookie of the Year winners who can fill an ocean with their talent and upside—is poised to change all that.

Coach Thibs is always calling Butler—and always calling his number. Photo: Russ Isabella-USA TODAY Sports

Already one of, if not the, most physically fit individuals in a league overcrowded by the most athletic specimens on earth, Butler dedicated his summer to figuring out a way to get into even more ridiculous shape—the better to handle one of the NBA’s toughest workloads. (According to NBA.com, he ran more miles per game than all but two other players during 2016-17, and led the entire league in each of the previous two seasons.)

“The man, simply, is addicted to working,” says Butler’s personal skills trainer Chris Johnson.

His weekly schedule consists of approximately nine hundred thousand hours of on-court basketball drills, spliced with a grueling workout plan that made my eyes water when I first heard it. Without an alarm, Butler is out of bed by 5:45 AM and on the court by 6:00.

“He’s a serial killer’s dream. He does the same shit every fucking day.”

Meals hardly deviate. It’s scrambled egg whites, turkey bacon, turkey sausage, and a protein shake for breakfast. Lunch is Chipotle, with plain white rice, double chicken, light lettuce, and half a cup of vinaigrette (no cilantro). At night, his chef will prepare a dish around fish or chicken. He hasn’t had red meat in years and steers clear of alcohol.

When Butler isn’t drenched in sweat, most of his free time is either spent in his theatre watching the same movies over and over (Friday is a favorite), or escaping into never-ending games of Spades or dominoes. Yoga is on the docket. Nightclubs are not.

“He’s a serial killer’s dream,” says Butler’s personal strength trainer Travelle Gaines, who counts NFL superstars like Antonio Brown and Demaryius Thomas as clients. “He does the same shit every fucking day.”

Butler is shirtless in tan pants and Jordan slides when we first meet outside his pool house. “Want a beer?” He reaches into a brown Albertson’s bag and removes a cold can of Michelob Ultra. His hair is braided tight like a crown, and it’s impossible not to notice how much his chest looks like gladiator armor. This is also a reminder that our interview (and a photo shoot he’s doing) have pushed Butler’s out of his usual routine, but he doesn’t seem too worried about it.

“I’ll just make it all up in a short period tonight and be really tired in the morning when I wake up and start my schedule all over again, but it’s part of it,” he says.

The mood when Butler enters a room somehow relaxes and tightens at the exact same time. His personality glides from standup comedian to superintendent. He’s genuinely curious, cerebral, and a little mischievous. Ultimately, everything, from his schedule to his diet to the people he chooses to spend every waking minute around, is about efficiency. Even in this wonderland, with potted lemon trees at every turn, a hoard of wicker patio furniture, and a Southern California sun that dares anyone under it to do nothing but sip gin and tonics on end, Butler’s playfulness has limitations.

“I’m confrontational. I feed off of confrontation. It makes me go.”

The conversation turns to his work ethic. He understands not everyone is as driven as he is, but can’t comprehend the thought of someone (especially another NBA player) not doing all they can to reach their full potential. It bugs him, even though he knows it shouldn’t.

“I think it’s wrong for me to think that people want what I want because in reality they don’t. Some people are OK with getting drafted. Some people are OK with playing two years in the league, four years in the league, six years in the league. Some people are OK with just scoring a basket in an NBA game. I’m not OK with any of that. I’m not satisfied until I win a championship,” he says. “I want everybody to work the way that I work and it’s wrong for me to think like that because people don’t do it! But in my mind I’m just like why? Why don’t you want to chase greatness the way that I do?”

Last January, after a humiliating loss in Atlanta that saw the Bulls blow a 10 point lead with three minutes left, Butler was fined for publicly dragging his teammates through the mud. After he was traded, former NBA player Antoine Walker called Butler a “bad locker room guy.” A recent report suggested the Boston Celtics had concerns about trading for the three-time All-Star because Butler might clash with Gordon Hayward, who they eventually signed in free agency.

Butler has little patience for people less driven than he is. Photo: Mike DiNovo-USA TODAY Sports.

“Even as a first-semester freshman, he wasn’t gonna let guys drift through practice,” says Mike Marquis, Butler’s coach at Tyler Junior College. “He is very, very competitive, and he is great when he finds an enemy. I think that’s one of his charms. He knows how to psychologically find an enemy and attack it.”

I ask Butler if he’s a difficult person to be around.

“Yes,” he says.

But it’s not as simple as that. Difficult is in the eye of the beholder, just like laziness.

“But then again it’s bad on my part because I know better,” Butler says. “It’s kind of contradicting itself. It’s like, ‘Well Jimmy you know better, don’t do that.’ But then the other half is just like, ‘Well, if you can do it everybody can do it.’ But then it goes back again. ‘You know that it don’t work like that, right? Yeah, I know, but I think that it can so everybody needs to work like this.'”

“I think it takes a very special person to deal with Jimmy Butler,” says Gaines. “He’s actually too smart for his own good.”

Once the photo shoot ends, we migrate down to the main house. Ready to play Spades, Butler is hunched over a square folding table that’s been pummeled by thousands of domino tiles. He’s flanked by Phil Ducasse, his newly appointed personal photographer, Ifeyani Koggu, a former Arkansas State guard who Butler introduces as his brother, and Mike Smith, Butler’s mentee, of sorts, from Chicago who’s about to enter his sophomore season at Columbia. A chandelier the size of a kiddie pool hangs overhead. Boxes of Size 14 retro Jordans are stacked against the dining room wall, with loose jewelry and designer clothes casually spread across the table and floor.

Nearly two hours later the card game ends and Butler recedes to his theatre. He acknowledges that his whirlwind ascent altered relationships and transfigured his behavior in Chicago, but doesn’t feel taken for granted by the Bulls organization. Still, an old truism lingers: the one about how those who start in the mailroom can never shake how co-workers perceive them no matter how high they climb within the company. There’s a sense, from the outside looking in, that the Bulls didn’t appreciate how awesome Butler truly is.

He didn’t crack 400 minutes his rookie year. By his third season—his first of three straight appearances on the NBA’s All-Defensive second team—Butler averaged a team-high 38.7 minutes per game. That year he averaged 13.1 points. Two seasons later he was up to 20.9.

“I think they maybe expected me to stay the same, and I don’t think that that’s right. Like, I have changed. I will tell you that. But I think that I’ve changed for the better,” he says. “When I say for the better, whenever I was a rookie, averaging 0.8 points per game or whatever it might be, it wouldn’t matter if I scored that 0.8 because it wasn’t going to win or lose us a game. Now, you go forward a couple years when I’m averaging 20 points per game, that’s more than likely gonna cost us a game. It’s gonna be the difference between winning or losing. Am I right? So now I don’t give a damn about pressure, but if someone’s going to take the blame for something, who they gonna point to? Me. So yeah, I’ve changed, because I want to fucking win. I want to show that I can win. So the way I go about things, it’s not gonna be the way I went about things when I was a rookie, [when] I’m not gonna say anything. Now I’ve got something to fucking say.”

This is what he has to say. Or at least some of it:

“I’m confrontational. I feed off of confrontation. It makes me go. Not everybody’s like that. [Bulls head coach Fred Hoiberg] is not that coach, and there’s nothing wrong with that. There are different coaching styles and people are gonna say—which is what they did say—’It’s gonna be Jimmy’s team or it’s gonna be Fred’s team.’ Two total opposite ends of the spectrum. They’re either gonna try to win it now or they’re gonna go young. And you see which way they went with it. Completely fine. Yo, it’s y’all’s business. It’s y’all’s organization. It’s cool. And now I’m in Minnesota and couldn’t be happier.”

Despite elevating his game to an all-time high last year, too often he was forced to be MacGyver, constantly scraping for useful contributions from his scanty supporting cast while refusing to let constant double and triple teams minimize his impact. The Bulls struggled to boil water whenever he rested on the bench.

Chicago ranked 28th in three-point rate and 24th in three-point percentage yet Butler still dragged them to the playoffs. The floor opened up a tiny bit when Nikola Mirotic played the four, but aging, antiquated guards like Dwyane Wade and Rajon Rondo too often made the offense feel claustrophobic. It wasn’t an ideal environment for a wing scorer to thrive, but somehow Butler did.

From 2015 to 2017, the percentage of Butler’s two-point field goals that were unassisted increased by just over 20 percent, but his True Shooting percentage didn’t fall. He finished with more Win Shares than LeBron James, Russell Westbrook, and Kawhi Leonard last year, and was third in “Real Plus-Minus Wins,” a stat that estimates how many wins a player contributes to his team’s season total, behind only LeBron James and Steph Curry.

“You can’t put somebody in a box and then have them think outside the box. Jimmy thinks like there’s no box, so he has no ceiling. Every day we wake up to break boundaries,” Johnson says. “I’m able to develop him as a point guard, as a shooting guard, as a small forward, as a power forward, and as a center. He’s a basketball player. He’s a scorer. He’s not a shooter. He’s not just a primary driver. He can do pretty much anything that is asked of him from his coaches because he allowed me to prepare him for every single situation. The only person who can stop Jimmy is Jimmy. He don’t have a flaw.”

Even for a person as motivated as he is, Butler’s journey to the NBA was a miraculous tightrope walk. There were no AAU connections or free sneakers. Butler is from Tomball, Texas, a slight town about 30 miles outside Houston. After his mother kicked him out of the house when he was 13, Butler couchsurfed through his teenage years before finding relative stability when his friend’s mother agreed to take him in. The story has been told often, but remains too incredible to be sensationalized.

For the typical prospect, coming to average 20 points in the NBA is less likely than purchasing a winning Powerball ticket. For Butler, it was less likely than holding said ticket while riding in the backseat of a limousine with Beyonce, eloping in Vegas.

Butler didn’t receive any scholarship offers out of high school, but he did get noticed by a scout named Alan Branch. Branch identified qualities his colleagues missed, and started to chirp in the direction of any coaches who’d listen. You guys are missing a steal. But no offers were made even after Butler played well in a couple spring tournaments. Nobody thought he was Division-I material.

“The biggest thing I can say is he wasn’t flashy, he wasn’t a freak talent, and he was in the bushes,” Branch says.

So instead of preparing for his first year at a school like Texas Christian University or Morehead State, Branch introduced Butler to Coach Marquis at Tyler Junior College, about three hours north of Tomball. He spent a day working out in their gym, scrimmaged with some of their players and local high-school competition, and was offered a spot right away.

“Mike never saw him shoot the basketball,” Branch said. “Jimmy played like four or five possessions, made the right passes, got a rebound. He was just solid. You could just see the IQ.”

It’s impossible to know what would’ve happened had Branch never brought Butler to Marquis’s attention. There were other junior colleges in the area that might have granted Butler a chance to walk on, but a few critical variables would’ve spun in unpredictable directions had he played anywhere else. To start, Tyler was very good, and good teams draw Division-I eyeballs.

Up until that point in his career, Butler mostly operated in the frontcourt. He crashed the glass, defended well, and offered a tenaciousness that probably wouldn’t have the same effect against bigger, stronger competition. But thanks to the team’s roster construction, Marquis shifted Butler to the perimeter on a full-time basis, forcing him to showcase a more appealing and varied skill-set.

“I didn’t think people would draft him out of junior college after one year, but I thought he was draftable,” Marquis said. “I called [Bulls general manager] Gar Forman, who I had known since he was coaching at Iowa State and New Mexico State, and said there’s something special about Jimmy. If they just continued to watch his progress, they’d really, really like him.”

Far and away the longest lasting benefit from his time in Tyler was who he met while there. Butler’s roommate that season was a 6’7″ wing named Joe Fulce, who was recruited to play for Marquette University by the school’s then-assistant coach Buzz Williams.

“Every time I went to go see Joe, of course, I would say hello to Jimmy,” Williams says.

Fulce—who’s now a graduate assistant coach under Williams at Virginia Tech—and Butler were like a pair of Siamese fighting fish (who also happened to be friends). They competed in everything and played countless games of one on one, after practice, before games; even at random times in the middle of the night—whenever Butler wasn’t hypnotized by his eight hundredth viewing of The Lion King.

“I don’t know how many times I’d either wake up in the morning or wake up at night and his ass is sitting in bed, eating some snacks, with his feet crossed, with a cowboy hat on, watching the damn Lion King with some country music softly playing,” Fulce said to VICE Sports. “His ass is weird.” (Butler still really loves country music.)

Butler led Tyler in scoring and guided them to a 24-5 record. All the while, Fulce relentlessly pitched Williams on his roommate’s all-around potential. A little while later Williams became Marquette’s head coach. Butler was the first player he signed. His letter of intent was famously faxed over from a nearby McDonald’s, and his first day on campus doubled as the first day of school. Butler still had Fulce as his roommate, but never visited Milwaukee beforehand.

“I think from day one until the day he graduated, he became much more confident in who he was on and off the floor,” Williams says. “I think he became less distrustful. His personality showed more often. He was much more comfortable. Obviously, that was an extended period of time where his environment and the people in his environment were stable.”

In three years, Butler never dropped a class, skipped a meeting with his tutor, or showed up late to a weightlifting session. In large part due to Butler being Williams’s first signing, there was inescapable pressure on them both to perform. And through some tough times early on, a mutually beneficial bond was formed.

“What can I say, in some ways I’m proud of it and in other ways I’m not proud of it,” Williams says. “I was hard on him. I was hard on him in every way. I never gave him any relief in any facet of his life, and to his credit he never wanted one. I think as our time together transpired, he expected that. He wanted that. He wanted that as an example to everybody else on the team.”

Butler says the lessons learned in three years at Marquette still resonate, and his relationship with Williams remains strong. Now the head coach at Virginia Tech, Williams gave Butler a journal during his second year in the league. He still writes in it.

Next year, the journal will be different. He’ll be in a new city, with a new team, and a new set of expectations—at least externally. Internally, Butler still has a bottomless urge to be great. He’s forever that serial killer’s dream. He rolls out of bed each morning focused and ready to go for a 90-minute session with Johnson. It’s the first of two workouts they fight through every day. They start by zooming in on ball-handling, finishing, floaters, runners, one-legged jumpers, off-balance jumpers, side pick-and-rolls, middle pick-and-rolls, pick-and-roll passing, and so on and so forth.

He’s already one of the craftiest and effective downhill playmakers in basketball, but for Butler to truly max out his potential in the coming seasons, that jumper needs to stabilize. Last year, he knocked down 36.7 percent of his threes, which is right around league average and an improvement on the previous season. But a higher percentage of his field goal attempts were launched from the inefficient mid-range, where he only canned 38.2 percent. On the whole, that’s not an atrocious number, but it badly trails positional peers like Kawhi Leonard, Paul George, and Kevin Durant.

Later in the day, the second session with Johnson is devoted to shot mechanics—how he can better himself shooting on the move and off the bounce. They study preferable ways for him to create separation and sharpen his technique on fadeaways. Every workout is filmed, allowing Butler and Johnson to obsess over ball and hand placement. They really dig into the finer details that are necessary to make him a more potent all-around weapon.

After the morning workout, Butler rewards himself with a five-minute break and then embarks on a soul-crippling hour with Gaines. Gaines and Johnson work with other professional athletes but have still met with Butler almost every day for the past four years. They will continue to do so in Minnesota. When Butler goes on vacation, be it to Europe, Canada, Mexico, or Mars, Gaines and Johnson come along for the ride.

“I’m not cheap,” Gaines says. “But he pays whatever it costs and whatever it takes to keep his body right.”

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday are reserved for corrective exercises, movement prep, movement training, and strength training. Tuesdays and Thursdays are for conditioning work and agility training. Saturdays and Sundays are strictly conditioning. Sometimes they race on the beach or hop on a football field to sprint 110 yards at a time.

Sometimes they’ll get back on an actual basketball court just to embrace the delightful sensation that a gasser can have on the human body. Gassers are timed sprints where, starting on the baseline, Butler has 17 seconds to go half the court and back, then dart to the opposite end line before returning to where he started. “We’ll do 10 to 15 of those,” Gaines said. It sounds like torture, but for Butler the entire process is more vital than oxygen.

There are obvious reasons to think the hard work will continue to pay off. This year, Butler may find that instead of doing more with less, he’ll have the chance to do more with more. In Minnesota, defenses will have to worry about Towns, Wiggins, and Jeff Teague, the kind of score-first point guard Butler hasn’t played with since Derrick Rose’s body broke down. He’ll be able to allocate more energy towards the defensive end—Butler failed to make an All-Defensive team for the first time in three years last season. Despite just four percent body fat hanging from his 230-pound frame, Butler still gets tired every once in a while.

If he can hunt for more open opportunities behind the three-point line instead of settling on tough, contested heaves, he can be one of the most efficient players in the entire NBA.

That won’t necessarily be easy. The Timberwolves actually finished behind Chicago in three-point rate last season. And given how their roster is built, Thibodeau will likely lean on dated lineups that can be exploited when up against modernized rotations. Gorgui Dieng and Taj Gibson will platoon the power forward position, even though they’re both better suited as backup fives. Life on the court may be cluttered once again.

But if Towns leaps forward on the defensive end, Thibs could deploy more versatile units that will accentuate Butler’s strengths. The floor will open up and, if that’s the case, it’s hard to see how he won’t be a legitimate MVP candidate. According to Synergy Sports, Butler ranked in the 77th percentile as a pick-and-roll ball-handler last year. He was 95th in transition, 92nd in spot-up situations, and 91st in the post.

The Timberwolves boast a core that can, in Towns’s words, evolve into a dynasty. Butler likes the fit and is confident he can teach Thibodeau’s system to younger teammates who struggled to grasp it last season. But he’s also understandably cautious when it comes to attaching any bold claims to a group that ranked 26th in defense last year.

“I don’t like the word ‘Super Team’,” he says. “I think everybody’s human. That’s [what] people label Golden State. They’re a really really, really good basketball team. Super team?…On any given time they can be beat, too. It’s all about who’s playing basketball the best at the right time.”

Towns and Wiggins can fill an ocean with their upside. Photo: Chris Humphreys-USA TODAY Sports.

Dethroning the Warriors is goal number one. But even if the Timberwolves fall short, Butler will certainly use his time in Minneapolis to expand his fame over the next few years. With the league’s popularity increasing every day in countries all over the world, a genuine superstar’s brand is worth exponentially more than the $19.3 million Minnesota owes Butler this season. Off-court opportunities are constantly nipping at his attention. Three years ago, he took a 75 percent pay cut to go from adidas to Jordan, joining Blake Griffin, Carmelo Anthony, Kawhi Leonard, Russell Westbrook, and over a dozen other NBA stars. (During our day together, Butler poked fun at a camera operator wearing adidas tennis shoes.)

Bonobos, a menswear company that was recently bought by Walmart, made Butler their brand ambassador last August. And just this month he released his own signature underwear line with PSD, a company Kyrie Irving and Chandler Parsons are also affiliated with. (Butler’s photographer Phil envisions a coffee table book. “If Kim Kardashian can do it,” he says. “Why can’t Jimmy?”)

Last year, he dipped his toe in Hollywood by appearing in Office Christmas Party, a comedy his life guru Mark Wahlberg helped put him in. Butler met Wahlberg in 2013 while the actor was filming a Transformers movie in Chicago. They’ve been close friends ever since, with Butler citing the 46-year-old’s vigorous work ethic as one of the biggest inspirations in his life.

“He’s already one of the best at what he does, but he works as though he’s not. The guy wakes up at 3:30, 4:00 AM to work out. Then he’ll go take his mind off of stuff and play some golf,” Butler says. “He eats healthy and spends time with his family and he’s reading scripts and he’s in meetings and he’s on phone calls. Before you know it, it’s time to do it all over again the next day.” (Butler’s all-time favorite Wahlberg movie is Shooter. “Bob Lee Swagger is that dude,” he says.)

Butler played himself in Office Christmas Party, alongside Jason Bateman and Olivia Munn. He wasn’t stiff in his only scene; the film’s two directors, Josh Gordon and Will Speck, were impressed by his initial foray into a brand new field. “LeBron surprised everyone in Trainwreck by being so fully formed as an actor,” Gordon told VICE Sports. “If Jimmy wanted to [act in the future], he could do it. He’s got that kind of charisma. It’s up to him.”

Butler isn’t sure how much longer he wants to be an NBA player, but hopes to squeeze in at least seven years, two championships, and widespread respect as one of his era’s greatest stars before his body cries uncle. (No big deal.) If he opts out of his player option in 2019, the former Most Improved Player can experience unrestricted free agency for the very first time; just about every team that can afford a max contract will be interested. Even though that level of courtship is something Butler has never gone through before, he’s yet to think about what it’ll feel like.

“I’ll tell you one thing,” he says. “I’m gonna go or I’m gonna be or I’m gonna stay wherever I’m wanted, man. Because that’s all anybody ever wants,” he says. “To be appreciated.”

Jimmy Butler Has Something To Say syndicated from http://ift.tt/2ug2Ns6

[flauntpage]

Jimmy Butler Has Something To Say

Jimmy Butler's cell phone is shaking. We're plopped down in the last row of his home theatre on a couch that feels like a velvet sponge, a blanket covers his outstretched legs.

Butler leans over, looks down, smiles. He picks the phone up, shakes his head, then turns it around to reveal who's on the other end. Coach Thibs. "See?" Butler says. "It's crazy, right? He's always on my phone."

Everything about Butler's place in this exact moment and time can and should be described as "crazy." From the majestic hillside villa tucked away in Malibu—a remote paradise where the 27-year-old lives with a tight crew of friends, family, and paid aides (a photographer is sleeping in the guest house)—to the sudden reunion with Tom Thibodeau, the tireless coach who helped turn Butler into one of the least probable success stories in NBA history, to the Chicago Bulls needlessly trading Butler earlier this summer...the list can go on forever.

Butler's origin story is absurd. Small town Texas kids with no scholarship offers out of high school don't become NBA role players, much less superstars. They aren't oddball country music-loving characters who pal around with movie stars. And they certainly don't accomplish all they have while going out of their way to stand tall as a positive figure off the court. Butler won the NBA Cares Community Assist Award last April, and says he aspires to use his broadening platform to navigate the contentious social issues that plague the country. But his rags to riches past and lavish present are not as moving as what promises to lie ahead.

Butler was voted onto his first All-NBA team last season, with scoring, assist, and rebound averages usually associated with someone headed to the Hall of Fame. (Butler tallied more Win Shares last year than Larry Bird when he won his first MVP). But there's still room for improvement, and next season Butler will be surrounded by players with enough talent to relieve some of the pressure he's felt in years past.

It's been an intense, course-altering summer for Butler, whose reward for establishing himself as one of the world's 15 best basketball players was the trade, three months ago, from Chicago to the Minnesota Timberwolves, a franchise that's perpetually struggling to stand on its own two feet. But Butler—alongside Karl-Anthony Towns and Andrew Wiggins, two Rookie of the Year winners who can fill an ocean with their talent and upside—is poised to change all that.

Coach Thibs is always calling Butler—and always calling his number. Photo: Russ Isabella-USA TODAY Sports

Already one of, if not the, most physically fit individuals in a league overcrowded by the most athletic specimens on earth, Butler dedicated his summer to figuring out a way to get into even more ridiculous shape—the better to handle one of the NBA's toughest workloads. (According to NBA.com, he ran more miles per game than all but two other players during 2016-17, and led the entire league in each of the previous two seasons.)

"The man, simply, is addicted to working," says Butler's personal skills trainer Chris Johnson.

His weekly schedule consists of approximately nine hundred thousand hours of on-court basketball drills, spliced with a grueling workout plan that made my eyes water when I first heard it. Without an alarm, Butler is out of bed by 5:45 AM and on the court by 6:00.

"He's a serial killer's dream. He does the same shit every fucking day."

Meals hardly deviate. It's scrambled egg whites, turkey bacon, turkey sausage, and a protein shake for breakfast. Lunch is Chipotle, with plain white rice, double chicken, light lettuce, and half a cup of vinaigrette (no cilantro). At night, his chef will prepare a dish around fish or chicken. He hasn't had red meat in years and steers clear of alcohol.

When Butler isn't drenched in sweat, most of his free time is either spent in his theatre watching the same movies over and over (Friday is a favorite), or escaping into never-ending games of Spades or dominoes. Yoga is on the docket. Nightclubs are not.

"He's a serial killer's dream," says Butler's personal strength trainer Travelle Gaines, who counts NFL superstars like Antonio Brown and Demaryius Thomas as clients. "He does the same shit every fucking day."

Butler is shirtless in tan pants and Jordan slides when we first meet outside his pool house. "Want a beer?" He reaches into a brown Albertson's bag and removes a cold can of Michelob Ultra. His hair is braided tight like a crown, and it's impossible not to notice how much his chest looks like gladiator armor. This is also a reminder that our interview (and a photo shoot he's doing) have pushed Butler's out of his usual routine, but he doesn't seem too worried about it.

"I'll just make it all up in a short period tonight and be really tired in the morning when I wake up and start my schedule all over again, but it's part of it," he says.

The mood when Butler enters a room somehow relaxes and tightens at the exact same time. His personality glides from standup comedian to superintendent. He's genuinely curious, cerebral, and a little mischievous. Ultimately, everything, from his schedule to his diet to the people he chooses to spend every waking minute around, is about efficiency. Even in this wonderland, with potted lemon trees at every turn, a hoard of wicker patio furniture, and a Southern California sun that dares anyone under it to do nothing but sip gin and tonics on end, Butler's playfulness has limitations.

"I'm confrontational. I feed off of confrontation. It makes me go."

The conversation turns to his work ethic. He understands not everyone is as driven as he is, but can't comprehend the thought of someone (especially another NBA player) not doing all they can to reach their full potential. It bugs him, even though he knows it shouldn't.

"I think it's wrong for me to think that people want what I want because in reality they don't. Some people are OK with getting drafted. Some people are OK with playing two years in the league, four years in the league, six years in the league. Some people are OK with just scoring a basket in an NBA game. I'm not OK with any of that. I'm not satisfied until I win a championship," he says. "I want everybody to work the way that I work and it's wrong for me to think like that because people don't do it! But in my mind I'm just like why? Why don't you want to chase greatness the way that I do?"

Last January, after a humiliating loss in Atlanta that saw the Bulls blow a 10 point lead with three minutes left, Butler was fined for publicly dragging his teammates through the mud. After he was traded, former NBA player Antoine Walker called Butler a "bad locker room guy." A recent report suggested the Boston Celtics had concerns about trading for the three-time All-Star because Butler might clash with Gordon Hayward, who they eventually signed in free agency.

Butler has little patience for people less driven than he is. Photo: Mike DiNovo-USA TODAY Sports.

"Even as a first-semester freshman, he wasn't gonna let guys drift through practice," says Mike Marquis, Butler's coach at Tyler Junior College. "He is very, very competitive, and he is great when he finds an enemy. I think that's one of his charms. He knows how to psychologically find an enemy and attack it."

I ask Butler if he's a difficult person to be around.

"Yes," he says.

But it's not as simple as that. Difficult is in the eye of the beholder, just like laziness.

"But then again it's bad on my part because I know better," Butler says. "It's kind of contradicting itself. It's like, 'Well Jimmy you know better, don't do that.' But then the other half is just like, 'Well, if you can do it everybody can do it.' But then it goes back again. 'You know that it don't work like that, right? Yeah, I know, but I think that it can so everybody needs to work like this.'"

"I think it takes a very special person to deal with Jimmy Butler," says Gaines. "He's actually too smart for his own good."

Once the photo shoot ends, we migrate down to the main house. Ready to play Spades, Butler is hunched over a square folding table that's been pummeled by thousands of domino tiles. He's flanked by Phil Ducasse, his newly appointed personal photographer, Ifeyani Koggu, a former Arkansas State guard who Butler introduces as his brother, and Mike Smith, Butler's mentee, of sorts, from Chicago who's about to enter his sophomore season at Columbia. A chandelier the size of a kiddie pool hangs overhead. Boxes of Size 14 retro Jordans are stacked against the dining room wall, with loose jewelry and designer clothes casually spread across the table and floor.

Nearly two hours later the card game ends and Butler recedes to his theatre. He acknowledges that his whirlwind ascent altered relationships and transfigured his behavior in Chicago, but doesn't feel taken for granted by the Bulls organization. Still, an old truism lingers: the one about how those who start in the mailroom can never shake how co-workers perceive them no matter how high they climb within the company. There's a sense, from the outside looking in, that the Bulls didn't appreciate how awesome Butler truly is.

He didn't crack 400 minutes his rookie year. By his third season—his first of three straight appearances on the NBA's All-Defensive second team—Butler averaged a team-high 38.7 minutes per game. That year he averaged 13.1 points. Two seasons later he was up to 20.9.

"I think they maybe expected me to stay the same, and I don't think that that's right. Like, I have changed. I will tell you that. But I think that I've changed for the better," he says. "When I say for the better, whenever I was a rookie, averaging 0.8 points per game or whatever it might be, it wouldn't matter if I scored that 0.8 because it wasn't going to win or lose us a game. Now, you go forward a couple years when I'm averaging 20 points per game, that's more than likely gonna cost us a game. It's gonna be the difference between winning or losing. Am I right? So now I don't give a damn about pressure, but if someone's going to take the blame for something, who they gonna point to? Me. So yeah, I've changed, because I want to fucking win. I want to show that I can win. So the way I go about things, it's not gonna be the way I went about things when I was a rookie, [when] I'm not gonna say anything. Now I've got something to fucking say."

This is what he has to say. Or at least some of it:

"I'm confrontational. I feed off of confrontation. It makes me go. Not everybody's like that. [Bulls head coach Fred Hoiberg] is not that coach, and there's nothing wrong with that. There are different coaching styles and people are gonna say—which is what they did say—'It's gonna be Jimmy's team or it's gonna be Fred's team.' Two total opposite ends of the spectrum. They're either gonna try to win it now or they're gonna go young. And you see which way they went with it. Completely fine. Yo, it's y'all's business. It's y'all's organization. It's cool. And now I'm in Minnesota and couldn't be happier."

Despite elevating his game to an all-time high last year, too often he was forced to be MacGyver, constantly scraping for useful contributions from his scanty supporting cast while refusing to let constant double and triple teams minimize his impact. The Bulls struggled to boil water whenever he rested on the bench.

Chicago ranked 28th in three-point rate and 24th in three-point percentage yet Butler still dragged them to the playoffs. The floor opened up a tiny bit when Nikola Mirotic played the four, but aging, antiquated guards like Dwyane Wade and Rajon Rondo too often made the offense feel claustrophobic. It wasn't an ideal environment for a wing scorer to thrive, but somehow Butler did.

From 2015 to 2017, the percentage of Butler's two-point field goals that were unassisted increased by just over 20 percent, but his True Shooting percentage didn't fall. He finished with more Win Shares than LeBron James, Russell Westbrook, and Kawhi Leonard last year, and was third in "Real Plus-Minus Wins," a stat that estimates how many wins a player contributes to his team's season total, behind only LeBron James and Steph Curry.

"You can't put somebody in a box and then have them think outside the box. Jimmy thinks like there's no box, so he has no ceiling. Every day we wake up to break boundaries," Johnson says. "I'm able to develop him as a point guard, as a shooting guard, as a small forward, as a power forward, and as a center. He's a basketball player. He's a scorer. He's not a shooter. He's not just a primary driver. He can do pretty much anything that is asked of him from his coaches because he allowed me to prepare him for every single situation. The only person who can stop Jimmy is Jimmy. He don't have a flaw."

Even for a person as motivated as he is, Butler's journey to the NBA was a miraculous tightrope walk. There were no AAU connections or free sneakers. Butler is from Tomball, Texas, a slight town about 30 miles outside Houston. After his mother kicked him out of the house when he was 13, Butler couchsurfed through his teenage years before finding relative stability when his friend's mother agreed to take him in. The story has been told often, but remains too incredible to be sensationalized.

For the typical prospect, coming to average 20 points in the NBA is less likely than purchasing a winning Powerball ticket. For Butler, it was less likely than holding said ticket while riding in the backseat of a limousine with Beyonce, eloping in Vegas.

Butler didn't receive any scholarship offers out of high school, but he did get noticed by a scout named Alan Branch. Branch identified qualities his colleagues missed, and started to chirp in the direction of any coaches who'd listen. You guys are missing a steal. But no offers were made even after Butler played well in a couple spring tournaments. Nobody thought he was Division-I material.

"The biggest thing I can say is he wasn't flashy, he wasn't a freak talent, and he was in the bushes," Branch says.

So instead of preparing for his first year at a school like Texas Christian University or Morehead State, Branch introduced Butler to Coach Marquis at Tyler Junior College, about three hours north of Tomball. He spent a day working out in their gym, scrimmaged with some of their players and local high-school competition, and was offered a spot right away.

"Mike never saw him shoot the basketball," Branch said. "Jimmy played like four or five possessions, made the right passes, got a rebound. He was just solid. You could just see the IQ."

It's impossible to know what would've happened had Branch never brought Butler to Marquis's attention. There were other junior colleges in the area that might have granted Butler a chance to walk on, but a few critical variables would've spun in unpredictable directions had he played anywhere else. To start, Tyler was very good, and good teams draw Division-I eyeballs.

Up until that point in his career, Butler mostly operated in the frontcourt. He crashed the glass, defended well, and offered a tenaciousness that probably wouldn't have the same effect against bigger, stronger competition. But thanks to the team's roster construction, Marquis shifted Butler to the perimeter on a full-time basis, forcing him to showcase a more appealing and varied skill-set.

"I didn't think people would draft him out of junior college after one year, but I thought he was draftable," Marquis said. "I called [Bulls general manager] Gar Forman, who I had known since he was coaching at Iowa State and New Mexico State, and said there's something special about Jimmy. If they just continued to watch his progress, they'd really, really like him."

Far and away the longest lasting benefit from his time in Tyler was who he met while there. Butler's roommate that season was a 6'7" wing named Joe Fulce, who was recruited to play for Marquette University by the school's then-assistant coach Buzz Williams.

"Every time I went to go see Joe, of course, I would say hello to Jimmy," Williams says.

Fulce—who's now a graduate assistant coach under Williams at Virginia Tech—and Butler were like a pair of Siamese fighting fish (who also happened to be friends). They competed in everything and played countless games of one on one, after practice, before games; even at random times in the middle of the night—whenever Butler wasn't hypnotized by his eight hundredth viewing of The Lion King.

"I don't know how many times I'd either wake up in the morning or wake up at night and his ass is sitting in bed, eating some snacks, with his feet crossed, with a cowboy hat on, watching the damn Lion King with some country music softly playing," Fulce said to VICE Sports. "His ass is weird." (Butler still really loves country music.)

Butler led Tyler in scoring and guided them to a 24-5 record. All the while, Fulce relentlessly pitched Williams on his roommate's all-around potential. A little while later Williams became Marquette's head coach. Butler was the first player he signed. His letter of intent was famously faxed over from a nearby McDonald's, and his first day on campus doubled as the first day of school. Butler still had Fulce as his roommate, but never visited Milwaukee beforehand.

"I think from day one until the day he graduated, he became much more confident in who he was on and off the floor," Williams says. "I think he became less distrustful. His personality showed more often. He was much more comfortable. Obviously, that was an extended period of time where his environment and the people in his environment were stable."

In three years, Butler never dropped a class, skipped a meeting with his tutor, or showed up late to a weightlifting session. In large part due to Butler being Williams's first signing, there was inescapable pressure on them both to perform. And through some tough times early on, a mutually beneficial bond was formed.

"What can I say, in some ways I'm proud of it and in other ways I'm not proud of it," Williams says. "I was hard on him. I was hard on him in every way. I never gave him any relief in any facet of his life, and to his credit he never wanted one. I think as our time together transpired, he expected that. He wanted that. He wanted that as an example to everybody else on the team."

Butler says the lessons learned in three years at Marquette still resonate, and his relationship with Williams remains strong. Now the head coach at Virginia Tech, Williams gave Butler a journal during his second year in the league. He still writes in it.

Next year, the journal will be different. He'll be in a new city, with a new team, and a new set of expectations—at least externally. Internally, Butler still has a bottomless urge to be great. He's forever that serial killer's dream. He rolls out of bed each morning focused and ready to go for a 90-minute session with Johnson. It's the first of two workouts they fight through every day. They start by zooming in on ball-handling, finishing, floaters, runners, one-legged jumpers, off-balance jumpers, side pick-and-rolls, middle pick-and-rolls, pick-and-roll passing, and so on and so forth.

He's already one of the craftiest and effective downhill playmakers in basketball, but for Butler to truly max out his potential in the coming seasons, that jumper needs to stabilize. Last year, he knocked down 36.7 percent of his threes, which is right around league average and an improvement on the previous season. But a higher percentage of his field goal attempts were launched from the inefficient mid-range, where he only canned 38.2 percent. On the whole, that's not an atrocious number, but it badly trails positional peers like Kawhi Leonard, Paul George, and Kevin Durant.

Later in the day, the second session with Johnson is devoted to shot mechanics—how he can better himself shooting on the move and off the bounce. They study preferable ways for him to create separation and sharpen his technique on fadeaways. Every workout is filmed, allowing Butler and Johnson to obsess over ball and hand placement. They really dig into the finer details that are necessary to make him a more potent all-around weapon.

After the morning workout, Butler rewards himself with a five-minute break and then embarks on a soul-crippling hour with Gaines. Gaines and Johnson work with other professional athletes but have still met with Butler almost every day for the past four years. They will continue to do so in Minnesota. When Butler goes on vacation, be it to Europe, Canada, Mexico, or Mars, Gaines and Johnson come along for the ride.

"I'm not cheap," Gaines says. "But he pays whatever it costs and whatever it takes to keep his body right."

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday are reserved for corrective exercises, movement prep, movement training, and strength training. Tuesdays and Thursdays are for conditioning work and agility training. Saturdays and Sundays are strictly conditioning. Sometimes they race on the beach or hop on a football field to sprint 110 yards at a time.

Sometimes they'll get back on an actual basketball court just to embrace the delightful sensation that a gasser can have on the human body. Gassers are timed sprints where, starting on the baseline, Butler has 17 seconds to go half the court and back, then dart to the opposite end line before returning to where he started. "We'll do 10 to 15 of those," Gaines said. It sounds like torture, but for Butler the entire process is more vital than oxygen.

There are obvious reasons to think the hard work will continue to pay off. This year, Butler may find that instead of doing more with less, he'll have the chance to do more with more. In Minnesota, defenses will have to worry about Towns, Wiggins, and Jeff Teague, the kind of score-first point guard Butler hasn't played with since Derrick Rose's body broke down. He'll be able to allocate more energy towards the defensive end—Butler failed to make an All-Defensive team for the first time in three years last season. Despite just four percent body fat hanging from his 230-pound frame, Butler still gets tired every once in a while.

If he can hunt for more open opportunities behind the three-point line instead of settling on tough, contested heaves, he can be one of the most efficient players in the entire NBA.

That won't necessarily be easy. The Timberwolves actually finished behind Chicago in three-point rate last season. And given how their roster is built, Thibodeau will likely lean on dated lineups that can be exploited when up against modernized rotations. Gorgui Dieng and Taj Gibson will platoon the power forward position, even though they're both better suited as backup fives. Life on the court may be cluttered once again.

But if Towns leaps forward on the defensive end, Thibs could deploy more versatile units that will accentuate Butler's strengths. The floor will open up and, if that's the case, it's hard to see how he won't be a legitimate MVP candidate. According to Synergy Sports, Butler ranked in the 77th percentile as a pick-and-roll ball-handler last year. He was 95th in transition, 92nd in spot-up situations, and 91st in the post.

The Timberwolves boast a core that can, in Towns's words, evolve into a dynasty. Butler likes the fit and is confident he can teach Thibodeau's system to younger teammates who struggled to grasp it last season. But he's also understandably cautious when it comes to attaching any bold claims to a group that ranked 26th in defense last year.

"I don't like the word 'Super Team'," he says. "I think everybody's human. That's [what] people label Golden State. They're a really really, really good basketball team. Super team?...On any given time they can be beat, too. It's all about who's playing basketball the best at the right time."

Towns and Wiggins can fill an ocean with their upside. Photo: Chris Humphreys-USA TODAY Sports.

Dethroning the Warriors is goal number one. But even if the Timberwolves fall short, Butler will certainly use his time in Minneapolis to expand his fame over the next few years. With the league's popularity increasing every day in countries all over the world, a genuine superstar's brand is worth exponentially more than the $19.3 million Minnesota owes Butler this season. Off-court opportunities are constantly nipping at his attention. Three years ago, he took a 75 percent pay cut to go from adidas to Jordan, joining Blake Griffin, Carmelo Anthony, Kawhi Leonard, Russell Westbrook, and over a dozen other NBA stars. (During our day together, Butler poked fun at a camera operator wearing adidas tennis shoes.)

Bonobos, a menswear company that was recently bought by Walmart, made Butler their brand ambassador last August. And just this month he released his own signature underwear line with PSD, a company Kyrie Irving and Chandler Parsons are also affiliated with. (Butler's photographer Phil envisions a coffee table book. "If Kim Kardashian can do it," he says. "Why can't Jimmy?")

Last year, he dipped his toe in Hollywood by appearing in Office Christmas Party, a comedy his life guru Mark Wahlberg helped put him in. Butler met Wahlberg in 2013 while the actor was filming a Transformers movie in Chicago. They've been close friends ever since, with Butler citing the 46-year-old's vigorous work ethic as one of the biggest inspirations in his life.

"He's already one of the best at what he does, but he works as though he's not. The guy wakes up at 3:30, 4:00 AM to work out. Then he'll go take his mind off of stuff and play some golf," Butler says. "He eats healthy and spends time with his family and he's reading scripts and he's in meetings and he's on phone calls. Before you know it, it's time to do it all over again the next day." (Butler's all-time favorite Wahlberg movie is Shooter. "Bob Lee Swagger is that dude," he says.)

Butler played himself in Office Christmas Party, alongside Jason Bateman and Olivia Munn. He wasn't stiff in his only scene; the film's two directors, Josh Gordon and Will Speck, were impressed by his initial foray into a brand new field. "LeBron surprised everyone in Trainwreck by being so fully formed as an actor," Gordon told VICE Sports. "If Jimmy wanted to [act in the future], he could do it. He's got that kind of charisma. It's up to him."

Butler isn't sure how much longer he wants to be an NBA player, but hopes to squeeze in at least seven years, two championships, and widespread respect as one of his era's greatest stars before his body cries uncle. (No big deal.) If he opts out of his player option in 2019, the former Most Improved Player can experience unrestricted free agency for the very first time; just about every team that can afford a max contract will be interested. Even though that level of courtship is something Butler has never gone through before, he's yet to think about what it'll feel like.

"I'll tell you one thing," he says. "I'm gonna go or I'm gonna be or I'm gonna stay wherever I'm wanted, man. Because that's all anybody ever wants," he says. "To be appreciated."

Jimmy Butler Has Something To Say published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv