Dear Marcelo Huertas,

Dearest Marcelinho Huertas, first of his name:

The Los Angeles Lakers have moved on without you. They have a bright future with names like Lonzo Ball, Brandon Ingram, Julius Randle, Kyle Kuzma and Tyler Ennis.

Okay maybe that last one is a stretch, even in satire.

You chose not to return to the Lakers and extended that decision to the entire NBA. I hope you’re enjoying [googles Marcelo Huertas] Brazil. You can try to fill that hole in your heart with miles of beautiful beaches, incredible culture and those super yummy caipirinha cocktails, but at the end of the day, when you think about what could have been, the feeling will be akin to a Brazilian wax of your soul.

Meanwhile, the Lakers have already won more games this year than they have in the last four seasons — yes, even including your impossible to forget forgettable tenure. Sure, Lonzo’s shot looks like something your attempt late in the shot clock in, say, Miami, but he’s a big baller.

Yeah, your name is incredibly fun to say and lends itself greatly to all kinds of puns, but we have a Kuz. Have you ever yelled KUUUUUUUUUZ from the depths of your gut? That’s what I thought.

So yeah, Marcelo. The Lakers — and I — have moved on. As crazy as it is to believe. This is the reality. You leaving was one of the top 375,000 most painful moments of my life. But we’ve put that behind us. I am totally not upset and the previous 253 words is just me expressing how I definitely and definitively moved on. No hard feelings at all.

Okay maybe a couple, but still.

(In the insanely unlikely event that you’re reading this, Marcelo. I didn’t mean any of it. I miss you. I miss you so much. Please come back. PLEASE COME BACK.)

Author: Anthony F. Irwin

The old guy.

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