You know how sometimes life throws you a curveball, and you’re just left standing there, bat in hand, scratching your head? Yeah, that’s kind of how Thompson seemed when someone had the nerve—let’s call it that—to ask him about his free agency decision, now that the whole Mavericks thing didn’t pan out the way everyone hoped.
So picture this: Thompson, he’s shaking his head, maybe trying not to roll his eyes, and then this laugh escapes. You can almost hear it, like he’s thinking, “Oh boy, here we go.” And then, out comes this answer that’s so him, “Don’t do this to me. Don’t do that to me. Don’t do that.” Seriously, it’s the kind of response that makes you want to pat him on the back and say, “It’s okay, man.”
Anyway, let’s say you have access to a time machine (who doesn’t fantasize about that, right?). You think Thompson would even use it? Nah. He’s all about moving forward, no looking back, no regrets. Kind of commendable, actually. He goes on about how dwelling on the past is like tripping over something that’s already behind you. Like reminiscing about the time you dropped your ice cream cone as a kid. Rough, but you can always get another one. Or maybe… maybe not?
Oh, and did I mention the injuries? I mean, two brutal ones. The kind that makes you question everything except for the stuff that matters—the grit, the determination. And there’s Thompson, still standing in Dallas. He’s already planning for what’s next, chin up, eyes ahead. That’s something I can respect, even if the season didn’t exactly sparkle like a freshly polished trophy. You know?
