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Isaiah J. Downing-USA TODAY Sports

Asking good questions as a sports journalist is hard. Athletes and coaches do not want to answer your stupid question, most are not good at at talking, and the combination thereof leads to some dadaist-level conversations in a lot of cases. We once got lost and distracted in the middle of a question, and ended up asking Dan Mullen a time-travel question. It happens, and it happens to everyone.

This is not one of those cases, because Ray Evanovich came to the NBA finals loaded for bear.

First, our man rattled off his whole damn title. Why not? "Radio and Television Hong Kong" makes you sound like you're about to ride into the press conference on the tailfin of a B-24 and ask pressing questions about the Truman administration's trade policies in the Maldives. We never understood why reporters introduce themselves, because the athletes certainly don't, but whatever: he runs that title out like a footman introducing the last Hapsburg.

He's also got Official International Lover hair. Respect to that, Ray, and the belief that every essential white dude fashion look was and is contained in the single film Legends of the Fall.

We're using nothing but similes here because Ray owns metaphors now. We'd have to ask him to use one, and then pay royalties. Similes are trash, but they are free, and we are very cheap. Ray is the landlord for metaphors now. We owe him rent for that previous sentence.

The Cavaliers have effectively frozen the pond for the Splash Brothers in the first three games of the Finals.

OUR MAN FROZE A POND IN YOUR MIND. Most reporters just use words. Ray brought a whole fable to the table. Ray has a parable about life and weather and hardship for you plebes. Look at Purple Shirt behind him. Purple Shirt has left the building. Purple Shirt is Doctor Strange with his body in front of him staring at his glowing spirit fingers.

Purple Shirt's life will never be the same. You can hear his mind whispering to the mop of Official International Lover hair in front of him: Teach. Me. He's going to stare at the postgame media buffet and quietly wonder what he's really staring at when he sees a stale cookie: the energy that is, or the energy of what will be?

Our man understands that greatness begets greatness, which is why Kyrie Irving rose to the occasion. JR Smith looks in every direction for help. LeBron pauses, utterly lost. Only Kyrie Irving rises to the occasion. Only Kyrie Irving understands that poetry demands only poetry in response, and nothing more.

A: "Splash."


LeBron is laughing. But J.R. knows he just watched two men speaking not through words, but soul to soul. Kyrie is transcending conscious thought, and is a medium. His body is servant to the spirit which is servant to the universe. If LeBron touches him at this instant, he will see every galaxy at once, contained in a single grain of sand.