(h/t TMZ)
​"UT's butt!". University of Texas...is...butt. That's the burn that got Kevin Durant to reverse course on a night during which he could otherwise not be stopped from getting to the spots he wanted to go when he wanted to go to them. Not serpent slander, or a blasphemous baked goods reference, or an implication that the fans of the championship team for which he's proved most valuable for the second straight season will never love him like they love their biological son with the Bambi ankles. Rather, an elementary anatomical insult to the current state of the college that I hesitate to even call his alma mater considering he's probably spent less time on it's campus than he's spent anonymously defending himself on twitter. That's what perturbed the new frontrunner for Finals MVP enough for him to interrupt an evening in which he should have been enjoying the fruits of 43-motherf'n-points worth of labor. If he didn't bring all forms of criticism, both hurtful and harmless, on himself by apparently not thinking through one of the most maniacal moves in sports history before he made it then I just might feel bad for the NBA's most thin-skinned superstar. If I wasn't forced into being so happy to see him face some form of adversity, I'd actually find it unbelievably sad that he cares so much what idiots, much like myself, think about him. After his performance last night, there is absolutely no reason that KD wasn't in full-blown "laaaaa, la, la-la" mode... ​Yet, instead he had to restrained from going face-to-face with some hopeless Cavaliers' fan whose optimism as a sports fan was likely just stabbed to death with Kevin Durant's not-so-vaguely familiar dagger...
I don't think I'll ever understand how the man who looked completely unbothered in hitting contested jumper after contested jumper in the face of a desperate team in their own building filled with their own fans can't ignore the opinions of assholes. But damn, he's on the wrong team if even the most gentle of jokes is better at aggravating him than the freakishly athletic specimens that simply look standard in his shadow.
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