Look, John Wall’s the last person in the league that I’d ever mess with. I don’t care who you are, what your background is, whether you’re fresh out like Gucci, or whatever. Because let’s remember Example A:
Factual statement: I don’t have a clue what gang that’s a sign of. This might surprise our readers, but I’m not really tuned in with gang signs. However, when that happened, lots of folks who claimed to know what they were talking about said John Wall’s a real one for doing that on national television.
But but but, I’ll say this (*extremely Donald Trump voice*), Gucci gets a pass, he’s an a living legend and his Lemonade was better than Beyonce’s. Same with Quavo, because I’m the One is the song of the summer and it’s not even close. The number of times I’ve listened to it since it got released is close to 459687. But Julio? JULIO? Noooo. You’ve gotta sit down my man. We’re not nearly far enough removed from the Super Bowl for you to be talking, or even in public. Especially not to John Wall.
And then the last murder of the evening. Dennis Schroder and John Wall single-handedly saving the Eastern conference for years to come. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it here again: the Eastern conference has better rivalries set up for the future than the West does. Westbrook and Beverley, or Steph and Beverley’s great, but Patrick Beverley has maybe one more year of being relevant. In the East, though, it feels like everyone’s rivals. Like everyone hates the Celtics, and the Raptors, and the Wizards, and the Pacers. We’re talking post-Lebron era, so not counting the Cavs. Because none of the rivalries matter until Lebron’s gone. John Wall buried Schroder last night, but we’ve got a solid decade of fun between them left.